Mon Capitaine, thank you for inviting us and me to blog

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TOY DRUMSET and FIRST SONG

I began drumming when I was a little child, not much older than six, if memory serves.

Began on a toy drumset which included a snare-like-drum, with a little cymbal attached to an L-shaped metal dowel, which affixed on drum's rim. The drumsticks were a deep red (brushes also included). I remember learning I'll Be There by the Jackson Five...I was elated to figure out the intro - especially the crecendo "whoosh" using brushes on the cymbal. I was bummed I could not duplicate the "ch" sound on verses (it was a high-hat keeping time, but I didn't know what that was).

I recall the feeling I got when the song went into the bridge I guess, it's not really a chorus. The part where drums came in proper and Jermaine sang "I'll be there to comfort you..." It was a feeling of almost ecstacy, it was beyond joy I think. Once I learned that part, and could go back into the quiet sparse verses, I felt exactly like I was driving something. Tho of course I'd no notion of what it felt like to drive. But I did love to zip around on my bike, which was the closest comparison my little mind could make.

I loved the motion of the music, the storyline not really lyrically, but the progression of song. I always loved the song the most. I knew what I was doing was not melodic, but it was to me in some way. But beyond that, the drumming to me always felt like leading the band. That was quite a surprise, because before actually playing, I had no clear knowledge that the drummer is the driver, at least in non-classical modern musics I was exposed to.

LESSONS

My parents decided to let me have lessons. They were very expensive. My first teacher was a hippie with kinky long hair and a beard. I know he taught me stuff, but the 2nd and 3rd teachers were the ones I really remembered. I was about 8.

The 2nd and 3rd were old dixieland guys, well known locally, regionally and possibly nationally. They played w/ Harry Blons and others. Red Mattock was a bundle of fun. All the teachers made me count notation out loud. I counted out loud forever it seemed. "El-e-phant, EL-E-PHANT", Red would chant in order to teach me triplets. I began on big honking 2B sticks, traditional grip. At the lesson's end, they would play a piece for me. Red was a clown and in time, tap the stick to his mouth and out would come his false teeth.

We played in a tiny practice room in the music store, each having a practice pad attached to a stand. I think it was under hippie Mark that I learned the drum roll. I recall that morning in the kitchen for the millionth time, trying to bounce those fat sticks in a controlled manner. Man I was so happy to learn the drum roll. Then I worked on the five stroke and other rolls, to do them in time.

SENSE OF SEPARATION; BOB BYRNES

The 3rd teacher, Bob, could get stuff out of me that the others couldn't. A real love bloomed between us. He was the only one in my life who could understand that I was an artist, that was just who I am. As I progressed musically, a sense of separation round the family and all my closest friends became apparent to me. This was an issue til I became an adult, tho almost everyone was accepting and supportive. But very few I was daily close to were artists. Bob knew what to do with me. My parents I think were kind of shocked at the progress reports he gave, he never had anything but the highest praise for me.

Lessons ended up being for two or three years toto. At one point we were heavy into drum duets, difficult pieces I thought, with bright tempos. He was strict about accents and all. It was difficult at first for me to even try to read the bottom line (stems down), difficult to play the part, listen to his and keep it together. Plus, to be playing with the best drummer I had ever heard, my hero.

I know I felt intimidated - what's that about when you're only 9 or 10? In some ways I was more scared when I could finally keep up with him on these pieces and the music let fly.

The duets taught me to listen and comprehend the parts as a whole. I got to a point where I could hear what I was reading without playing a note. I badgered my parents for a year to let me use 'Grandma' money given to me, to buy a real drumset. I reckon it was Bob who turned the tide. By then his assesment of me could not be downplayed. Soon after I got a real 3 piece drumset.

And then promptly broke my arm in a bike accident. The cast was on from fingertips to shoulder for weeks, then a smaller cast on the forwarm. It was murder to be without playing. But I tried anyway.

Here's to my angel, Bob.