It wasn't easy learning to play drums when I was a kid. There were no instructional DVD's, videos, or internet, and the books didn't come with CD's in the back. For my first ten years as a drummer the only books I had were for snare drum. Hearing new drummers was also hard because I didn't have much money to buy records. I could afford two or three new albums a year, and occasionally I got a "Sound Supplement" from a music magazine. 

When I was around six I got an AM Radio. The only "radio" I'd ever heard were my parents talk shows and the country station my Grandma liked, but now that I had control of the dial I found a whole world of options, and it wasn't long before long I was hooked on the pop music of the 1970's. I soared with the choruses and ached with the ballads. I discovered the opposite sex by realizing I had a crush on "Mandy". (She came and she gave without taking. And he pushed her away.) Then I got a crush on "Brandy" (what a GOOD wife she would be). From there it ascended to the female artists of the time - women like Olivia Newton John, Karen Carpenter, Diana Ross, Kiki Dee... and on and on and on... 

There were great songs in that era and a lot of great drumming, too. I loved hearing the way different drummers played. I'd think about their beats and fill choices, and mentally note how their drums sounded. Since it was "Top-40" the stations played each song four or five times a day, which gave a drummer ample time to enjoy and analyze every note. Once in a while you'd hear something you liked and couldn't pull off, and then you'd have to figure it out. That was always great fun for me - until the day I heard something I couldn't figure out.

I can't remember the first time I listened to "Chuck E's In Love". I must have heard it at some point because I was singing along when I noticed "the fill". "Chuck E's In Love"is a great inner city love song by Rickie Lee Jones, about a girl who knows this boy "Chuck E." who she thinks is in love with her. The song is played at a tempo you'd have to call slowsexy - so slow and sexy that when it goes to double time on the chorus it's STILL slowsexy! The groove on the verse sulks along and the chorus lifts it up without losing the "pout". Then on the bridge Ricki Lee goes solo with a sobering straight feel. Acoustic. And as her vocals taper off and the bridge ends... "the fill". 

I'd never heard a fill like this and couldn't begin to figure it out. I didn't even know what the drummer had hit to make the sounds. But I knew it was gooooooood, and every time I heard the song provided another chance to make some headway on "the fill". So I'd lay on my bed with my feet on the wall for hours, hoping "Chuck E's In Love" was next. 

Like I said they played songs a lot back then, but I still only had four or five chances a day and there were things like eating and sleeping and soccer practice cutting into my possibilities. A couple of times I tuned in the middle of the song only to find I'd already missed the fill. In those cruel moments I'd howl like a soldier in a war movie. "Noooooooooo!" 

My anticipation would rise when the DJ came back from a commercial break or another song was ending. Now? Now! Now? Then they'd play "Afternoon Delight" or "Muskrat Love" and I'd have to wait again. "I'll listen until the next commercial." Okay, one more song set. All right, next song. Three in a row? Coming up? Okay, just those. The "Pina Colada" Song? I've heard that TWICE now. "Did I miss it?" But eventually my perseverance would pay off and it was on!

I'd snap to attention with the opening guitar line and try to find a position where I could hear well and sit comfortably. Then I'd attempt to clear my head of any thought so that when the fill drifted past I could better "sear" it into my memory. It's such a great tune I lost myself a couple times and ended up daydreaming through "the fill". What a waste! But most times I was ready. Sharp... focused... a little nervous. "This time I'll tap quarter notes through it."

And as the fill got closer I'd get edgy if people were around. "I need total silence in this car please!" Then Ricki Lee'd sing the last few notes and my eyes would bug, nose to the speaker as if to take in a smell. "If I can repeat it in my head I can learn it! but this fill is different! shut up here it comes! - " 

As the bridge ends the listener is lulled from a soft vocal to dead silence, at which point the feel switches from straight to swung. The fill has to span the feels and introduce a half time verse, and this is what happens: 

It starts with a couple defining notes to get your attention, then locks you into into a hazy series of snare/high-hat interplay, which is hard to define because it sounds just as random as it does steady. The playing is so delicate and exact you actually start to hear the minute pockets of silence between the notes, which causes you to lean closer and listen harder, so hard you go into a daze of musical oblivion. The sticking causes your eyes to shift wildly in their sockets as you try to pin down what's being played, and just as you realize you've lost your senses? A solid snare on "4", an open hat on the "and" - the final notes elongated deftly in the pocket - and you are back in reality. But before you can even shake off the cobwebs from it all, the drummer is into that "pouty" verse again, and he's playing it with such confidence and consistency you start to wonder if the fill was even possible, and if you really heard what you just heard. 

That's how I discovered Steve Gadd.

It was a long time before I knew who'd played on "Chuck E's In Love" but once I had the name I found it coming up again and again. I would eventually create a my own bastardized version of "Fifty Ways" and a learn as many other Gadd grooves as I could find. The only one I didn't work on was "Late in the Evening", because I thought there was more than one drummer on it so why try. It wasn't until I saw the video that I found out it was him alone, with four sticks! (Mozambique? What the-) I put a cowbell on my bass drum and wrapped it with tape until it matched his tone. I asked for Hydraulic heads for my birthday and tuned them loooooow. And I had an answer if anyone asked who my favorite drummer was. 

When I got out of high school I saved money and bought a Yamaha 6-piece. Two toms on the bass drum, two hanging toms on the floor. I'd stared at the posters enough to know what he played down to the size and model, and ripping off his set up seemed completely natural since I was already ripping off his sound and style. 

I've gone through a lot of phases in my drumming. I got into a latin phase for a while, and there was the David Garibaldi phrase, the a drum n' bass phase, Scottish drumming phase, linear phase... and on and on and on... Every time you go through a new phase it slightly alters your preferences and tendencies, and helps shape the ongoing evolution that is "your style". My "Gadd phase" was long and came at a time when I was looking for direction. It became the sound and style I adopted as a kid and the way I learned to play. So I tend to gravitate towards it. I've been influenced. 

Steve Gadd came through town on the "Mission From Gadd" tour and I decided to go. Despite my long infatuation with his drumming I'd never seen him live. The theater was packed but we found some seats in the back. I sat down and looked out, and there was that old familiar Yamaha 6-piece. I looked around the room. You could feel the anticipation. Steve Gadd is a legend. I thought about how many other drummers had gone through "Gadd phases". Maybe they were in the middle of one now. Maybe they were about to start. 

After a nice introduction the curtains parted and he walked out. Steve Gadd. Looking strong! He smiled at the crowd and was taken aback by the applause. But the applause made sense. Then he sat down at the drum set -

"And he blew that room a-way!"

He really did. He was just as sharp as ever on his many trademark grooves and feels. He played shuffles and brushes and did linear stuff and hi-hat technique. He played "the hits" and explained every sticking and pattern in a clear and patient way. At one point he asked the crowd to clap out a clave pattern and he solo'd over the top. I don't know if I was more impressed by his flailing staccato rythyms over the bar line, or the fact that the crowd kept the clave going the whole time. (I kept messing it up.) He was gracious and generous, and his playing was just as stunning as you'd imagine. Louis Bellson was in the crowd and Steve gave him a truly heartfelt tribute. It was a great moment. It was a great clinic.

After it was over we walked back past the tour bus to say goodbye to the Zildjian people. As we got there the bus door opened and Louis Bellson came off with Gadd and some others. They said their goodbyes and then Gadd was alone next to the bus. I didn't really know what to say to him. What do you say to someone you've spent so much time listening to, reading about, looking at? It's like what do you say to the person who pulled you from the burning car and saved your life? "Aaaaah, thanks!" There's really no way to convey the enormity of your feelings. You can't say enough for it to feel adequate, so you either go low key and later regret not "getting it off your chest", or you blow the person away with a "gush" of energy. 

As people came up for autographs they'd got wide-eyed when they met him and said things like "I can't believe I'm meeting Steve Gadd!" and "I'll never wash this hand again!" And everything Gadd said back was received with bright, hopeful, smiling faces - like they were watching a baby's first steps. But you can't blame people for getting weird. After all, they were face to face with "the face" that looked over his K Ride from the poster on their wall. They were meeting a legend, and having a conversation they would remember forever. I took it in for a while, then I went to talk to some other people. 

It was a great night and I was leaving when someone called me over and I walked through the crowd to the voice. I got there saw my friend John. He said "I want you to meet this guy." I looked and he was right there in front of me. Steve Gadd. What do you say to a person that's given you so much inspiration? What do you say to the guy who played the songs you were raised on? What do say to the guy from "Steve Gadd: Up Close"? What I said was, "Hi. My name is Steve, too." And then we had a great talk. He was calm and cool, and very comfortable to talk to. The kind of guy who looks you in the eye when he speaks and listens when you're talking. After a bit I thanked him for the clinic. We shook hands again and I walked away. 

I felt pretty good when I got to the car. Calm. Sated. Happy. Then I realized I'd just met Steve Gadd and I jumped up and kicked myself in the back of the head!

I was online and came across a Gadd site that had a bunch of his transcriptions. They had "the fill" from "Chuck E's In Love" so I checked it out. Still timeless. Right next to it was a button that played the original recording. (It's so easy to work on stuff now!) Then I checked out "50 Ways". And they had the solo from "Aja", and the groove from "Late In the Evening", and the groove from "Leprechaun", and the solo in Central Park... and on and on and on... 

Steve Bowman