I start drumming when I am very little, before I have formal lessons or anything like that. I’m in the backseat of the car, beating rhythmically on the car door, annoying my parents. I’m tapping my feet rhythmically in class, annoying my classmates and teacher. I change the shape of my hands to make different sounds on the table. The bottom of my palm with my fist balled up make a heavier sound. The tips of my fingers make a lighter, crisper sound.
My face makes all sorts of expressions, I can’t help it! I cringe, I wince, and my lips curl inwards.
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Then my parents get me actual lessons. No more of this half-baked tapping with hands and pencils; it’s time for some discipline.
These lessons challenge me, irritate me, cause numerous bouts of anger, but I love them. They forge me into an actual drummer. I start to develop some chops.
The drums are inside the house and I terrorize my parents with this obsession of mine. The windows shake and the dogs keep their distance. The neighbors don't like it.
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A few years later we move. I put my drumset under the car garage (“the bunker” as my family calls it) to avoid causing too much disturbance.
Across the forest, you can hear drumming coming from another house. Occasionally I drum and they drum back, and we pass back and forth. I am a better drummer than them.
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Most bands use drums as a backing track. They switch out their drummers constantly. Drummers are seen as expendable. They are just whacking sticks after all. This is uninspired.
There’s (warranted) appreciation for the cascades of the guitar, the bass, and the piano. But little is given to the drums that fade into the background. It’s only in their absence that you realize how many songs are shit without them.
They are like the middle child: essential but never prioritized.
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The reason why a band like Led Zeppelin sounds so good, or why John Bonham is my favorite drummer, is that they understand that the drums aren’t just a backing track. They sound better in play with other instruments.
Many Led Zeppelin songs have the guitar and the drums playing against each other, not with the drums as a background. They are in competition, back and forth, like other melodic instruments you might hear in an orchestra.
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The first time stress is introduced into drumming is when I go to jazz camp over the summer. Actually, I only go for a single day.
At the beginning of the day, I’m thrust into a music theory class (I can only read drumming sheet music). The professor is talking about something, and I don’t know what. Everything is uncomfortable and blurry! I’m like a small child in a college-level math course.
Soon, I’m sent to audition in front of a panel of people. They make me play a Bossa-nova beat and judge my skill level. I’m nervous and I fuck it up a little bit, but not too bad.
The group they put me in seems nice at first. Then we start introducing ourselves and playing. I’m nervous, and the kid on the saxophone demands that I undo my snare drum chain (what a jerk).
We then are told to do solos and go around the room doing a solo for a bit. I don’t fare well. I look around sheepishly as the rest of the kids give me a look of pity. Except for the asshole on saxophone.
Later in the day, I go to my first and only actual drumming class. The instructor is on a big stage and pulls a kid at random to come up onto the drumset.
He asks the poor kid: “who are your top five favorite jazz drummers?” The kid answers.
Then he asks the kid to “pick one”. The kid picks one.
Then he asks the kid “what are your five favorite songs by that drummer?” The kid (miraculously) answers.
At this point I know I’d be totally screwed if I was picked at random to go on stage. I don’t even listen to jazz. My Dad comes to pick me up and sees my face paralyzed with horror. He tries to get me to go back to no avail. I am done.
Drumming is only fun when it’s play. As children become adults, they sometimes forget this. Why do something if you’re not enjoying it?