A View From The Throne

The show is over and I’m thirsty and dripping with sweat. I towel off and make my way to the bar carefully, as to stay clear of anyone that I could rub up against and drench with my wetness. I slither to the end of the bar and post up next to a woman (or a man, but for the sake of this piece, let’s just say it’s a woman).

“Wow! That band was really good!’ she says to me.
I smile and reply. “Thank you. We had a lot of fun tonight.”
Seeming quite surprised, she asks, “Oh, you were in the band? I didn’t see you up there.”
“Yeah, I was playing drums the entire time,” I reply, but not in a condescending way that would make her feel stupid or embarrassed, because quite frankly, I’m used to this.
“Oh, you’re the drummer!” she cheers, upon realizing my role in the band. Her sudden excitement brings her slightly too close. “Eww, gross, you’re all sweaty!” she barks, as if I needed another reason to feel awesome.

Yep, this is what it’s like sometimes. We sit in the back and work our tails off, using almost every muscle in our body to create the energy behind the energy. We are the gas that powers the engine. We are the barge that pushes the coal down the river and the parachute that pulls you back from death when it’s time. We make people’s hearts beat and feet move, and we bring a steady, solid pulse to what would simply just be vanilla life support.

In my experience, playing the drums is way more than just playing music and keeping the beat. It’s a full on physical exercise. Obviously, we use our arms to play. Our whole arms. Everything from our rotator cuffs and biceps down to every minuscule muscle in our wrists and fingers gets its fair share of use. The tiniest muscles in our fingers are where we get our finesse and touch, while our shoulders, wrists and elbows generate power. We use both of our legs. Our knees take a beating. Our calves will contract and retract thousands of times over by the time the show is done. Our toes need to have the dexterity to either stomp or feather, or stomp THEN feather immediately in succession. Many people can’t even move their toes. I tend sing harmonies in most of my situations. Sitting down and singing while bashing away is a good cardiovascular exercise and definitely works the abs. My posture is very poor and someday I’ll pay for it.

All of this movement and energy originates in our physical and spiritual core, like a sunlight. The rays of light flow off in different directions down each limb and out of our fingertips and toes, translating into pure sound waves, hitting your inner ears that tell your brain that it’s time to dance and feel sexy. It’s a lot like using ‘The Force’!

When most people diet or exercise to lose weight, a good two week tour of the South will lighten me up by 7-10 pounds. It’s all water weight. I sweat like a pig. Sometimes we sit on drum risers, at much closer proximity to the hot stage lights. Sometimes we have to wear suits during our full-on exercise. Some people sweat pretty heavily and end up changing their shirts. I often need to change my pants and underwear after a show. Sometimes my socks, too. Other times I don’t even stop sweating until hours later. I bring more clothes on tour because I have to, not because I’m a diva. Let me rewind a bit. I’m not complaining about sweating. I view it as my body cleansing itself of all the toxins that the road can generate, and the solid exercise helps me stay physically fit. I often get a kick out of musicians that complain about it being hot on stage, and that they’re sweating bullets. After all, those guitar players sure are working hard, moving their fingers around like that! It also doesn’t help that I’m bald, and my one large eye brow will only hold back so much of the flood waters. It’s not fun to have salt liquid inundate your eye sockets, and there’s nothing you can do because the song you’re playing is too fast. There is no time to wipe your face. If you drop out, everyone notices.

Which brings me back to something that came up in the conversation earlier. I don’t get noticed very much. I consider it a good thing. When someone tells me that they didn’t notice that I was in the band, I take it as a compliment. The drums aren’t a very forgiving instrument. When you mess up, it sticks out like a sore thumb. If you slow down, so does the dancing. If you lighten up at the wrong time, so does the energy. If you drop a beat because you dropped a stick or you’re too busy wiping sweat out of your eye, it’s like a surprise hiccup that happens when you drink soda, or worse, when you think you’re about to drink soda, but it’s actually carbonated water! A guitar player can bend a string or cover up mistakes with effects. Bassists have it a little tougher, but many people can’t discern a wrong note in the low registers of the bass. Of course, my fellow guitarists and bassists would probably argue this point.

Another kind of drummer that gets noticed is one that plays a lot of notes. They’re only getting noticed because they’re playing too much and sticking out. It’s not only the drummer’s job to provide the beat and to aid in the creation of rhythm, a drummer’s duty also lies simply, but rather heavily in serving the song, as it also lies for every other musician. If it’s like I’m not there, it tells me that I’m not sticking out, the beat is sold and I’m doing my job. If a house has a solid foundation, people will notice the beauty and sturdiness of the house, even though they may not see that smooth slab of concrete holding everything up. If the foundation is cracked or crooked, the house will be less sturdy, and could eventually crash and burn!

While most players get to stand and move about freely, drummers have to sit in the same place the whole time, and it’s in the back. From there, usually we can see everyone in the band. We’re usually the first ones to see the smoke coming from the back of the amplifier, or the beer or ashtray that’s about to vibrate off the speaker cabinet. Sometimes we sit higher up and can get a good view of everything. We have the unique view of getting to see the band perform from behind. I’ve grown to really love watching shows from the side of the stage or from behind because of this. It’s a whole different world back there than it is from the front!

When watching a band from the front of the stage where it is usually meant to be watched, the drummer is often covered up by another person or instrument. This of course depends on the size of the stage and band. Often in live band photos, we’re covered up by something in front of us, perhaps a guitar neck or our very own cymbals. Since multiple bodies and piles of gear separate the drummer from the audience, our interaction with the crowd is minimal. We don’t get to talk and point or dance or run around or indulge in badass rockstar poses. We don’t even get the chance to jam with players of our same instrument. Guitarists get to jam together all of the time, while most bands have only one drummer, and they just stick them in the back of the stage with the rest of the gear. The only time everyone is O.K. with having the drummer up front, is when it’s his/her turn to drive the van.

Drummers often carry a lot of equipment. I play a 4-piece setup, which is pretty minimal and seems to be the standard for most drum kits that clubs or studios provide. A 4-piece setup consists of only four drums: A kick drum, snare drum, a rack tom that is usually mounted on top of the kick drum and a floor tom that traditionally sits on the floor, to the right of the leg that is playing the kick drum. With this small setup, I have four cases. One for each drum. The case that transports all of my cymbal stands and extra hardware is by far the heaviest, and is 4 feet long. I also have a case for all of my cymbals, which is usually 4-5 cymbals between the hi-hats, a ride cymbal and a crash cymbal. Sometimes two crash cymbals. I have a case for my kick drum pedal and a case for shakers, tambourines and other toys.

Even with this rather minimalist setup, the amount of cases and bags can still be excessive. I often get asked how much I hate transporting, setting up and tearing down my drums. The truth is that I don’t really think about it too much. For me, it’s very much like the experience of flying: When I set up my drums, it’s as if I’m taxiing down the runway, getting ready for takeoff. I test everything out and adjust the tuning of my drums, just as a pilot runs a final test on his rudder, flaps and other systems and gadgets. I take flight at the crash of the first downbeat and cruise steady at high altitudes until that last song ends. When that final sound subsides, I begin my descent as I unfasten my cymbals, fold up my stands and stow my beautiful noisemakers back in their protective homes. When the cases and equipment are back in the trailer, I’ve landed. You simply can’t fly without a takeoff and landing. Another trip for the books!

So once again, I slide up to the bar and order that magnificent post-show drink that’s going to taste so good. Another woman approaches to me and exclaims, “Your band was great! I love drummers! Can I get a picture with you!?”

“Of course!” I reply, as we snuggle up for our pose. “Careful. I’m all sweaty and nasty,” I warn her.
“It’s all right. I like it. I think it’s sexy!” She assures me, whispering it into my ear. There’s no click in the camera these days. They’re usually smartphones. As her husband “snaps” a few silent pictures of us and puts the phone back in his pocket, I’m reminded again of how important my role is in the band.
“Thank you! You were great tonight. Goodnight!” she says, while walking away with her husband, smiling. She obviously had a good time.

I’m cool with that. I’m all right with being in the background. I’ve long since come to grips with a lifetime of carrying heavy equipment. I’ve processed many times over, the fact that I’ll probably never get a chance to be in the front. I’m used to getting noticed less than the other musicians. I like the fact that nobody wants to hear what the drummer has to say during band interviews. I love my daily workouts. I dig getting to hit stuff! I feel fortunate to be only 1 of the 50,000 drummers in Nashville and not 1 of the 3,000,000 guitarists in town. I love the fact that I’m usually the only drummer in a band, where sometimes there are three guitarists! I’m appreciative beyond words of the fact that my groove and soul contributes so much to the art that is being created onstage. It’s a great space to be, and an important role to play. I am the caboose that brings up the rear of the train and protects my crew. I’m also the engine that drives it.

In fact, I’m cool with all of this.

I’m cool with being a drummer.