One of the great mysteries of life . . .
Why do people recoil in horror when they find out a drummer lives on their street? Or worse, next door to them?
I’m mystified. I mean, doesn’t everyone appreciate a good drum solo now and then?
I played off and on for many years. I’ve jammed with various friends, and even played in a garage band back in the day.
I would practise with headphones on, playing to the music of lots of great bands — from the Stones to Hendrix to Zep and more. A typical personal practice session alone would last an hour to 90 minutes, once or twice a week, while a weekend jam session with my pals might last for three or four hours (though, we pulled an all-weekender once).
Drumming is a great physical workout. I’m getting back into it again both for the enjoyment and, perhaps more important, for the cardio exercise. It beats jumping rope. I was inspired to pick them up again after reading about a lady who drummed well into hers 90s. I’m a lot younger, so I can do this.
You can well imagine that my partner is not leaping for joy over the news, no matter how much I assure her that I won’t play them when she is around.
And I expect some of my neighbours will be less than pleased. Of course, I’ll do my best to soundproof my drum room, and I’ll be respectful of them on weekends during the summertime. But some of my neighbours make a lot of noise on the weekends with their chainsaws, lawn mowers and all manner of tools. Could an hour or two of drumming be any worse — if I decide to play them on, say, a Saturday afternoon?
It will probably take me a few months to get up to speed again, and then I’ll be looking for jamming partners. I’m thinking September, when everyone has been fully vaccinated and we can socialize again without masks and such.
I’m shopping around now for a set, and I expect to be back up and drumming by the last week of May — if not before. I already have my eyes on a 5-piece Tama set. You know I’ll keep you posted.