As I mentioned before in “Fire ‘N’ Ice”, most everything I enjoy can be traced back, at least on a surface level, to my older cousins. One of them was a drummer. I’m not sure how much of an impact on me that had, I never heard him play, but drummers have certain habits, and those habits might have rubbed off on me, because I became a drummer too, and it’s been one of the most rewarding things I ever picked up. I’ve gotten to participate up on stage hundreds of times, performing with other talented musicians. The best things about drumming, for me, is that it’s the most versatile of all instruments. With only a basic understanding of percussion, you can play any number of genres. I’ve played blues, jazz, metal, rock, funk, southern gospel, progressive, you name it. Ask anyone close to me; I’m very passionate about percussion and music in general. I listen to a massively wide range of sound and the drums are always the first thing I listen for on a new recording.
I never realized how much I would miss this instrument that I love so much. When I moved into an apartment, the first thing that had to go was the drumset. Even with muting pads, they’re too disruptive for city life. The vibrations go up and disturb the neighbors, even when you’re on the ground floor. So unfortunately, I only get to play my kit when I go home to visit my parents. At this point, it’s been almost an entire year since I sat behind a kit to beat out a rhythm. I’m not worried that I may have lost my touch. But some days, when a particularly juicy groove comes over my headphones or some metal drummer is beating out a crazy polyrhythm, I just ache to sit a the throne and play along. It gets rather depressing, not being able to enjoy a hobby simply because it’s too loud. But one day, I’ll live in a place where I can beat the skins to my hearts’ content.