The
Load In -
12/17/04
It seems fitting to
be getting this web site up and running at the end of a year.
Especially since the last quarter of 2004 was really about getting
positioned for 2005. I look forward to playing as many gigs, with
as many people, as my family and schedule will support, and tolerate.
A Brief History:
I was a pot and pan banger as a toddler, and we always had a piano in
the house, as my mom could play. (Her pop, Nicholas Dann, was a
respected studio cat, playing woodwinds with many major artists in the
30's and 40's. Next time you see "The Wizard of Oz, listen for
the clarinet break in "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" - that's my Grandpa
Nick.)
At the age of nine I was given a Ludwig set for Christmas. (The
same set you see in the "Gear" section of this web site.) I took
a few lessons, learned the basics, got into the orchestra in my
elementary school, and practiced every day in my room. When I was
eleven, some neighborhood kids came and asked to borrow my set one day
for their "band" rehearsal. I said sure, if I could tag along and
watch. The next time the "band" got together, I sat in on drums,
and have been playing in bands ever since.
Through my adolescence, through my early teens, I played every day, and
with any number of bands and orchestras. I did gigs large and
small, lots of parties (because musicians belong to every clique - a
cool perq!), a few recordings. I met a few people along the way
who would go on to become recognized, and sometimes even famous,
players. I played rock, pop, metal, jazz, and symphonic
stuff. I also continued to play piano and keyboards, and wrote a
number of tunes for different projects. And I sang as often as I
could, lead or backup.
In high school I kept it up. I also got more into dramatic arts,
both onstage and off, acting in or running lighting, sound and scenery
departments for plays and musicals at Palisades High and in community
theater groups. Both music and theater stayed important after
high school and through college. I started working with more
serious musicians, often songwriters looking to flesh out their
compositions for live gigs and recording.
Throughout my twenties I acted in commercials, movies, improv groups
and in theaters. And constantly played music, to the degree that
I developed my own vocal style, composing style and playing
style. I got a pretty good rep going for myself as a dependable
player with good chops, and would get referrals often. I worked
in several projects for multiple years, learning what it takes to keep
a band moving forward.
During this same period I worked in music publishing, and as a stage
manager for several venues in Los Angeles (including the "world famous"
Troubadour - when Doug Weston was still alive and mostly crazy, and the
late, lamented At My Place - hands down the best room for sound ever
built in the city.) I went around the country driving trucks for
bands, working as a roadie and lighting designer and operator. I
played in lots of different studios, learning how to be a pro in that
setting. I made a bunch of money, and had the time of my life.
In January of 1989, just before my thirtieth birthday, I felt it was
time to develop a better "social footprint", time to see what I could
do to improve the human condition. I put aside the lifestyle I
had developed and went to work for non-profit groups which had these
same goals in mind. Later that year, during a YMCA camping trip,
I met my wife-to-be, Christy. We've been together ever since,
getting married in 1992, and welcoming our son Chasen to the world in
1995.
About four years ago I was asked by my logest-term musician friend if I
was interested in playing with him at his church on Sunday
evenings. Not having played live for many years, this was what
got me back into the world of music. I was amazed at how fast the
old muscles recalled what to do, and how fun it was to sing and
play. This gig lasted until a new regime at the church dropped
the Sunday service from the schedule a little over a year ago. I
fed my creative jones by doing a play with a local theater group, so
that set of skills also got dusted off and put to use.
This past summer I got involved in a Pali High reunion event, helping
to put together an all-star band. Doing that gig is what really
kicked my desire to play more into high gear. I did some
networking, pulled my old kit out of storage and refurbished it,
started reading drummer's magazines - and most importantly placed an ad
in a local musician's magazine and got back out on the circuit. I
went on a bunch of auditions for many different types of gigs, just to
work out the kinks. I was offered a couple of cool things, and
missed out on a couple, too.
But the biggest thing to me was that I was fully back into music.
My wife couldn't be more supportive. My son, now nine years old,
understands that music is to me what Little League is to him -
something you love, and because you love it you meet its demands for
time and effort. I'm not so busy that my home life suffers, and I
coach my son's teams and sit on the board of directors for his
league. I have a day job that pays well and allows the freedom to
make rehearsals and sessions as needed.
So there it is. I figure I've got about ten to fifteen years to
participate in the scene as far as bands and sessions goes, and will
play on until I can't do it anymore after that. I hope to be able
to pass along some hard-earned knowledge to youger cats, if they ask
for it. I'd like to get myself on some new tracks for posterity's
sake. But mostly, I'm just stoked to be able to call myself a
working musician again. This web site, and these notes, are
designed to capture the moments as they occur moving forward, if only
so I never again forget how much I love this part of my life.
Refurbishing the
Ludwigs - 12/20/04
Several things fell
together in 2004 that led to my musical resurrection. (See "The
Load In - 12/17/04" in the archives.) But I sure wasn't gonna get
far without a working kit. My poor old set was in a bad way,
literally in pieces, in storage, not in cases.
The first order of business was taking an inventory. In the
sunset of my first time on the scene, I had cannabalized my set to make
percussion stands, synth-pad stands, timbale holders and other non-kit
items. (For a long time I did vocals and played keys and
percussion at the same time in a number of projects.) So I pulled
each and every little part out of storage in order to see what I had
available. To my surprise, I wasn't starting as far behind the
8-ball as I thought.
The core of my 1968 Ludwig Super Classic kit was intact.
(Supraphonic 14 x 5.5" snare, Sky
Blue Pearl: 22" kick, 9 x 13" rack tom, 16 x 16" floor tom.) I
also
had a non-matching Rogers 16 x 16" floor tom, and a non-matching Ludwig
8 x 12" rack tom that survived. Hardware-wise, I had three cymbal
stands in varying states of needing repair, my original light-duty
snare stand...and no high-hat stand at all. (I have no idea what
happened to that one - and I don't recall losing it.) My
original kick pedal was long gone, but the pedal I had picked up along
the way (in about '82) was still good to go. I also had my Ludwig
double-tom holder: I had taken the rail mount off of my kick drum years
ago.
I had no cymbals
worth mentioning except for my original Zildjian
high-hats (although the top one had a crack of about 1/2 an inch at the
edge) and my original 20" Zildjian ride, which had proved pretty much
indestructable over the years.
I immediately set about to cleaning and polishing all the hardware,
chrome, steel and nickel pieces. I learned, through trial and
error,
that acetone is the best for taking off old tape scum, but you must be
mindful of the vapors. Plain old metal polish did a fine
job. On the
cymbals it was just a matter of elbow grease and cymbal
cleaner. I
repainted the hoops on the kick drum. I hit all the wrap with
some
Windex.
I bought new heads off of Ebay, where I also scored a couple of cymbals
for very little money. Same with a new high-hat stand.
Finally, I
found and purchased a new 10 x 14" Ludwig tom from the 70's, and
rewrapped it in Sky Blue Pearl myself (thanks to Precision Drum for
their invaluable customer service!)
When I was done I took the kit for a few test drives at WLA Studio
Services. It looked great and sounded terrific. I felt
ready to get
into whatever the musical future held for me.
Auditioning As An
Exercise - 12/21/04
Once I had a kit I
could haul around, I needed a reason to haul it. I had checked
out Music Connection magazine often in the past, and once recently just
for drill. Logging onto their web site, I was pleased to see they
offered free classifieds.
I responded to a few ads looking for drummers, and a couple looking for
vocalists. I tried to be as open-minded as possible regarding
styles of music, as I was looking to use the audition process as a tool
to deal with nerves and for networking purposes. I also placed an
ad - the tag line was "Vintage Drums + Vintage Drummer = Vintage Sound!"
I was pleased to get a number of phone calls and e-mails in
response. Among the funniest moments was when Al Polito first
called me up, and asked, "Uh...exactly how 'vintage' are you?"
After our phone conversation, I looked him up on the web and found his
site and his MP3s. If I recall correctly, Jen Getz had an ad that
I responded to, which contained a link to her site and her music.
One gig I went out for and didn't get was for a band called "Tribeca" -
very high-quality jazz-inflected rock. I downloaded their
samples, and the leader sent me their tunes on a CD as well. I
woodshedded their stuff with absolute focus over the course of several
nights. The day of the audition (my first one since getting back
in action) I found myself very nervous, but as ready as I could
be. The audition was at the lead guy's home studio, on a very sad
little kit. I played as well as I could have, and was genuinely
disappointed when I didn't get the gig. The whole way through -
before, during and after - I took care to be a pro. I knew the
material, stayed loose in the process, and said thanks again even after
learning they had passed on me.
On the same day I drove way out into the valley to audition for a
power-rock outfit. (If you imagine The Offspring mashed up with
AC/DC, you'll have the right idea.) A completely different
vibe than the "Tribeca" cats, all grit, beer and attitude. One of
the few times I've been in a room where the drums were miked -
had to be miked - just to be heard. These guys were loud! I
knew even before playing I wasn't going to be a good fit, but again I
acted like a pro. I did the full audition, and they liked what
they heard, even though I did call the contact guy back the next day
and passed.
Here's my little list of tips for the audition process...
- Woodshed: Get the tunes you'll be playing, and practice them as much
as possible. Start by playing them exactly as they were recorded
by the drummer. Then start making them your own. Note the
tempos (I use a little metronome.)
- Communicate: Be upfront about yourself and your skills, and be
relaxed. Be yourself - I tend to bring the funny, but that's just
me. Some cats dig it, some don't. Be sure to double confirm
appointments, locations and expectations.
- Be Gracious and Professional: Know what to expect, what to bring and
how to behave. Be polite, with lots of manners on display.
Be on time, with time to spare for set-up and tear-down. After
the audition, stay in touch but don't push. If you don't get the
gig, be sure to say thanks for the opportunity (as you never know if
they'll end up calling back, or if you'll run into them down the road.)
- Learn From Each Audition: You can cop new licks, experience new
styles and stretch your playing muscles and intellect with each time
out. I tend to tape everything, as I evaluate what did and didn't
work in the audition.
- Stay Open-Minded: Don't assume that what you hear and play in the
process is the whole picture. (I was pleasantly surprised when
Jen Getz brought some new rockers into the rehearsal room, as her album
was a more laid-back affair.)
Balancing
Act -
2/21/06
Make time for
family. Make time for rest. Make time for solo pursuits.
If I remember to do these simple things, each of my life's segments is
better for it. I have to remind myself that it's important to do
the things that benefit myself as much as it's important to do those
things that benefit others. Somtimes choosing what to focus on
and what to sacrifice is guesswork. And often I find myself
improvising in order to keep things smooth.
If I take time to create a new tune on GarageBand, which usually takes
a few hours for each "session", it is best for me to take that time in
the evening, when my family is asleep. But if that creative
workout goes into the early morning (I'll often write and record until
3:00 or 3:30 AM), then I have to rally myself to keep up with family
activities the next day. That's an example of planned balance.
Improvising, I find myself with a spare half an hour or so in the
middle of a weekend day. Instead of a nap, I surprise my son with
an invitation to take me on in a pillow fight, one of his favorite
activities. That simple, silly time together (and other moments
we spend together - at Little League, when I'm able to pick him up from
school and help him with his homework) makes up for being gone for most
of every other Saturday rehearsing with the Geezers.
I'm never able to maintain perfect equilibrium, but trying to be
present for all the different aspects of my life - with family, with
music, with work - means compromise and dedication in ever-changing
amounts. |