Friday, February 17, 2012
My first set of drums were empty oil drums from my father's garage. I scrubbed them till they were almost spotless. (And that was a job I tell you what.) I filled each one with various amounts of water to create different sounds, borrowed the garbage can lids and took a nail and hammer to attach them to some old boards I found behind the garage. Those I nailed to another couple of boards making stands like you would for a Christmas tree. I found two of the straightest limbs from the tree out back, and scraped off the bark for my drum sticks, and a drummer was born!
Day and night that summer I could be found whacking away at my makeshift drums. At first, I wasn't that good, but was really loud. As I kept trying, I got better. Rita would bring her record player into my bedroom, and I listened as I played along with the bands.
Then one day my father asked if I wanted a real set of drums. As a musician himself, he said he heard something in my playing. He found a used set in the paper and we went to check them out. I never will forget the day we brought them home. They were gold sparkle.
I've had many sets since that day, but none has meant as much to me as that first set.
My drum playing has taken me around the world. I've met some of the biggest stars in music. And had the chance to play and record in the best of places. (I talk about these people and places throughout this site.)
Though I am working on the songwriting side of my career now, I still look for ways to whack on the skins whenever possible.
Keep an eye out for me and be sure to come up and say hi.