We wanted to get to some pro reviews so we left our music on a few answering machines and asked people to call us back...  and they did!

The first message was from John Popper. He didn't speak but played a furious harp solo that told us all we needed to hear. He loves our music! Next was Phil Spector, who said our songs reminded him of "a young Dick and Karen." He went on and on. And then he started crying and it got kinda weird. But his sentiment made it through! Specifically, that Phil Spector thinks we're better than the Carpenters! Lastly we got a strange call back from an overly competitive Mariah Carey, who said "Nice voice but does she got's THESE? (squish!)" and then sent us a picture of a couple of sand dunes. Translation? She loves Hannah's voice! (Thanks MC!)

The pros have spoken and now it's your turn. Come to the show this week. Let us "kill you softly" with our song.  And when it's over, if you can honestly say it wasn't the best show you've ever seen in your life?... we will leave our gear onstage for charity and break up as a band right there on the spot. Come down and decide our future, but first ask yourself these questions: 

Can you handle the white hot intensity of 1000 suns? Can you stand the grip of choking despair? Can you handle these emotions back to back while drinking a long neck Bud? If you are looking for something that will send you staggering blindly into the night, grab your sunglasses and tissue and join us at 3rd and Lindsley this Thursday night! 

That's this Thursday, April 10th!

7:00 - ROMANTICA (Featuring members of U2 and Coldplay)

8:00 - The Bittersweets (Featuring members of the Bittersweets)

I just passed the six month mark in Nashville. Six months is significant because it is the amount of time I'd originally given myself to "make it or break it" in town. I figured I'd either get work as a drummer and move my family out, or go bust in Music City and be forced to find a regular job. Remaining a drummer wasn't just a romantic desire. It's the only way I've ever made a living. And I was truly lost as to what I'd do for work if not music. Being a letter carrier was the only "straight job" I'd researched but I hadn't looked into it deep enough to know if they actually needed anyone. For all I knew there could be a long waiting list to apply. And what if I got the job and hated it? What if I went Postal?!? Making a living as a musician was a much better option if I could pull it off, so I was determined to try my hardest. 

Getting gigs was tough at first. There was music happening everywhere but it seemed the same few drummers were doing it all. Everyone knows how tight the session community is, but the live scene in Nashville appeared to be sewn up, too. I saw a drummer named Nick Buda play almost every night I went out. One time I went to a three band bill at 12th and Porter and he played with all three acts! And if it wasn't him it was one of three or four other drummers that seemed to get all the work in town. 

When I got to Nashville I tried to slip into the scene organically - without bothering anybody. I thought coming on too strong would make me appear desperate. But after a few weeks of just watching music I decided I'd better force myself out of my comfort zone and ramp up my networking to make something happen. I cold called producers whose music I liked. I sent out promo packs. I said hello to singers/songwriters/performers when I saw a great show. I followed a female singer right off the the stage and into her dressing room to give her a card once. "You sounded great." I said. "I'm a drummer and wanted to introduce myself in case you were ever in need." She thanked me suspiciously. I worked on my approach. 

I played for free, played for dinner, played for tips. I just wanted to get onstage and make music. After four months in Nashville I got my first session. And that session led to another session. My time beating the streets was starting to pay off. I was now getting some money for live stuff and landing occasional session work, and every gig led to more player connections. I wasn't making enough to support a family yet but I was starting to think Nashville could work in time.

My wife and kids came to visit over the Easter break and had a great trip. We saw Picassos at the Frist museum, we ate at cool restaurants, and we enjoyed the many activities for kids that Nashville has to offer. They were in town for 10 days and we didn't get through half the stuff I'd planned for their visit. 

We drove East to the Smokey Mountains. By this time Nashville had already sold itself many times over and the surreal beauty of the Smokies was icing on the cake. When we got back to town we looked at some houses with a realtor to see what the possibilities were should we decide to take the plunge. Ultimately, the whole trip went really well and when I dropped my wife and kids off for their return flight I was filled with feelings of relief and gratitude. If I could just get some more income going I'd have a great case for moving our family out. A month later, however, I did something really stupid.

I had a two sessions and a live show booked and was planning to go home to see my family when they were through. It was the busiest week I'd had so far and I was excited about the momentum. I was charting out some of the songs when I got a call from a music manager. He said he represented an artist who was going on the road and wondered if I might be available. He told me the artist's name and I began secretly looking up her website as we spoke. I asked him when the tour started as her site came up. She was really pretty. He said the tour was leaving the next week. My eyes widened. "Next week?" As I was trying to figure out all the things I'd have to cancel one of her songs came blasting out of my computer. I hit the mute button and he chuckled. "You know what?" I said. "As much as I'd love to do it, I have a really full schedule next week and then I'm heading home for a bit. I think I'm going to have to pass." He thanked me anyway and we hung up. 

Though it felt strange to turn down a tour, I knew I'd done right by the people I was booked to play with the following week. I'd also done the right thing for my family, who were looking forward to seeing me. I wrote it off as a case of bad timing. Since I was still on her website I decided to pull up one of the songs. It was good. I played another one. It was REALLY good. I clicked the "tour" button to see where I would have gone. The page came up and my heart stopped. She was opening the Brooks and Dunn/Alan Jackson tour all the way through October. I still felt I'd done the right thing, but it was hard to process the fact that I'd passed up a slot on one of Nashville's biggest tours of the summer. I called my wife to tell her what had happened. I thought it might give her a little security to know I was starting to get some quality calls. But like she's done so many times before, she quickly slapped me into reality. 

I called the manager back immediately to change my answer but I got his machine. I called again and there was still no answer. It started to sink in. This was the call I'd been waiting for - the call I'd practically given up on - and I'd blown it! I called eight more times in the next two hours and kept getting an the machine. My buddy Bones called and I told him what I'd done. "They're probably in a meeting." he said. "That's a really big tour, you know!" Aaaaaaa. My head hurt. My friend Glenn called and said "Wow. Do you realize you turned down Keith Urban's management company?" Aaaaaaa. My belly hurt. The manager finally called two hours later. He thanked me for my interest but said they'd found someone for the tour. 

I've always been better at drumming than business. Back in my early twenties I was dating a girl who worked in the financial district. I'd go down there for lunch, see all those suited people running to and fro, and wonder what they did all day. I occurred to me I had no idea what they carried in their brief cases. Was it cash? Calculators? Briefs? (What ARE Briefs?) I would stare at them with the same confused fascination people give an Amish family on the highway. I couldn't believe these intelligent business people were still wearing something as useless and impractical as neckties. The vastness of the gulf between their lives and mine was funny to me at the time. But that was before I was a husband and father. Now I had a family that was counting on me to bring home a paycheck. And I still didn't have a tie. And I still didn't know what went in a brief case.

As I sat moping I got a call from a guy in an 80's cover band. He had a gig on Cinco De Mayo and was looking for a drummer. In my condition I was apt to get rubbed wrong, and rub he did. He said "I hear you were in the Wallflowers!" (Wallflowers?) I was about to correct him when he said "Lemme ask you this! Are you better than Alex Van Halen?" I felt my face sag. I decided to be confrontational. "Actually" I said. "I think Alex Van Halen is one of the greatest rock drummers of all time and I don't think I'll EVER be as good as him." He didn't miss a beat. "How about Neil Peart? Are you better than him?" I felt my body sag. I actually looked at the phone, then collected myself and said "Neil Peart? Ya! I can play circles around him." "Great!" he said, and went on to explain that the gig was four sets from 10-2 a.m. and paid $50. I told him I couldn't do it, then hung up and went to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.

I felt bad about turning down the tour and felt bad about turning down the Cinco De Mayo gig, too. I thought about it and realized I couldn't pass on a paying gig no matter what, so I put my ego down and called the guy from the 80's band back. I asked him if there would be any rehearsals and he said "Don't THINK so! We've been together three months and haven't rehearsed YET!" I shuddered - and took the gig.

A funny thing happens when you put yourself "out there". It's as if the energy in the Universe repays you for your effort. I don't know if that theory is even true. I just know that ten minutes after taking the 80's gig I got an email from the musical director for one of my favorite singer/songwriters. He was putting her band together for a summer/fall tour and wondered if I might be interested. This time I didn't blow it.

I'm very happy to announce that we are now in contract on a house in Nashville and my family will be joining me here this summer. After a slow start things began to materialize quickly, and while I didn't really "make it" OR "break it" I'm confident now that I'll be able to provide for my family as a musician after all. My wife loves the new house and is excited about being closer to some good friends and family we have in the South. My kids will grow up in a beautiful city, with fireflies and seasons and "Yes Maam"s, and I can continue making a living doing what I love most. I feel very lucky. 

I will be playing great music with amazing musicians for the next several months and I can't wait to get started. In the meantime, if you are reading this from Nashville and looking for a drummer you can go to my site (http://www.stevethedrummer.com) and listen to the playing samples. See if I might be good for the gig. And if you're reading this from California? Please, know that we have plenty of room for company.

There is good news to come!

# # #

Though I miss my wife and kids, being alone in Nashville allows me to work as much as I can. I usually meet people for lunch or coffee every day, write emails, make phone calls, and see and play as much music as possible. But I'd been doing this diligently since arriving in November and it was starting to wear on me. I don't mind working hard. The problem was, despite my efforts, I still wasn't getting any paid gigs and my energy was starting to fade. I knew my chances of breaking into Nashville would be over if I didn't stay patient and remain focused and positive, but it was getting harder every week. Waiting for work is one thing but if the phone never rings you're not waiting - just wasting time. That's how I was feeling when I got an email from a producer (David Henry, True Tone Studios) saying he needed a drummer for a session. My first session in Nashville, after four months of networking.

The session would be six songs for an artist named Tori Sparks. I met with her and got some demos of the tunes. She was great and I knew we would have a easy day tracking. I worked on the arrangements and met her once more to play through the music, but before we even had a chance to record David called again to ask if I could do a song for another singer/songwriter named Rod Picott. He said they'd already recorded the album and were scheduled to mix it when Rod wrote a new song and wanted to put it the record. The session was happening that week. "Thank you sir, may I have another?" 

I got to the studio at 10 a.m. to set up. Rod was really nice and the song was great. The bassist ended up being a guy I'd seen play live a bunch of times since I got to town. When we met he squinted and said "I know you." It was funny because he didn't know me as a drummer, but as an audience member. The session went real well. Great producer, song, and players. The Dixie Chicks' Pat Buchanan was laying some guitar on it as I left and the track was great in the end; just what I had imagined a Nashville session to be. I even got a Numbers chart and found it made sense. Then the next week I did Tori's session and that went really well, too. 

A couple weeks later I called and met up with a great local guitarist named Tom Mason. Tom lives in the middle of Shelby Bottoms Park with his wife, Pru Clearwater, and their dog Erroll. In typical Nashville fashion both Tom and Pru have original records out. They also play together in a band called The Big Happy. We met at their place in the park and went for a dog walk. Tom is a nice guy and we had a good talk. Later that night he called to ask if I would be interested in house sitting and watching Erroll while The Big Happy went on a three week tour. Their house is so remote I could set up in the living room and play drums all day without bothering anybody. The dog was cool, too, so I took him up on it.

I had done some sessions in town and that felt good but as the days went on I started to get antsy again. I didn't have anything on the books and had no songs to learn or music to work on. These are the times you wonder if you'll ever get another call. I didn't have gigs but I had a house where I could play some drums so I decided to just set up and start hitting. After a couple of hours I took a break and there was a message from a guy I'd met a few nights earlier named Will Champlin, inviting me to a big jam that afternoon at his studio. A chance to meet players and make music was exactly what I wanted and I called him back and went down there.

Will is the son of Bill Champlin, of the Sons of Champlin. (son of the Sons of... it gets confusing) Like his Dad, Will is also a singer/songwriter/producer, and they live in a big, beautiful house in the suburbs of Nashville with a professional studio in their basement. The players at the jam were great and we were having a good time. After playing for a while we took a break and I noticed Billy Ward's book sitting on the table. I picked it up and started reading a chapter called "How to Get Work". In the book he says that when there's nothing lined up, the way to get the phone ringing is to just set up your drums and play. I would have thought that notion was a little "new agey" if it hadn't just happened to me exactly as he'd described it. We played for a couple more hours and when I got to my car to leave I had a message from an amazing artist named Luke Doucet asking if I could do a session with him the following week. "Great!" (Weird!)

I have a four song session tomorrow. I met the artist (Jon Roniger) at a show and two days later his producers (Robert Reynolds and Jim Reilly) called to see if I could do the recording. I'll be splitting the record with a great drummer named Rich Redmond who works all the time. I went to the studio (16 Ton Studios) and got the demos yesterday. Rich was cutting a track when I got there, playing right in the pocket, making perfect choices, and his drums sounded huge. Add to that he looks like a frickin' movie star and couldn't be nicer if he tried. If I had forgotten where I was for a minute, Rich Redmond reminded me I was in Nashville. So I went home and got right to work on the songs; memorizing the arrangements, getting comfortable with the tempos, thinking of beat and fill ideas... If Nashville doesn't work out in the end it wont be because I didn't try my hardest. I'm going to go down there and NAIL that session! Then I'm going to get more jobs and nail those, too. (At least that's the plan.) 

The weather in Nashville has turned to Spring and the flowers and trees are in full bloom. It's like living in a tropical rain forest. Meanwhile, 2300 miles away, my daughter lost her first tooth and I haven't seen her new smile yet, and my son came in 2nd in the Pinewood Derby race and I had to settle for the excitement in his voice. I see a light at the end of the tunnel, though, and if I can get that light brighter we'll have a great life here. For now I just have to remain patient and stay focused and positive. Patient. Focused and positive. Repeat! Patient. Focused and positive. Repeat!... 

They say Nashville is a "five year town". I thought I could shave a couple years off by being experienced and coming in with a few contacts but now I'm not so sure. Being a seasoned drummer doesn't help like it did in the Bay Area. In Nashville you're expected to be seasoned. People don't get too wide eyed when you sound good. Drummers here show up at the audition playing songs well, with good time, and on great equipment. Come in with less and you'll likely be forgotten before you get back to your car. (Unless you show up at another audition, in which case you'll be remembered in perfect clarity.) Try to break into Nashville without being solid and groovy, and you might as well go down to LP field and ask the Tennessee Titans if they need any extra players. 

I've discovered that with so much talent around, relationships are just as important as musicianship. Familiarity is the key because band leaders hire musicians they know. I have lots of experience and a pretty good track record, but relationships are one thing I came to town short on, so I had to get serious about letting people know I was here and available to work. I had to learn to Network. 

An artist with a good gig can meet three or four of drummers every day, and any person who isn't a drummer can give you the name of one. So it's important to be on people's radar when a gig comes up. Some drummers are great at networking. I'm not. It goes against my grain to tout myself to others. But no matter who's best for the gig, the drummer who's making introductions, high fiving the room, and passing out cards like a Vegas dealer will get more work than the drummer who sits in the corner waiting for a conversation to develop. In Nashville if you don't get out and convince people you're the one they need they'll hire someone else. 

I'd been meeting people for lunch and coffee and going to shows every night but I needed to get more creative. So I got a book on industry contacts, put a promo pack together (bio, discography, picture, CD, and some press), and sent out over 70 emails to managers, labels, lawyers, and booking agents who represented bands or music styles I liked. In each email I described myself and asked if I could send them a promo pack. I got 10 responses back. No auditions or job offers, but all said they'd keep my information on file in case something came up, so I mailed the packs out with personal cover letters and tried to think of other options. 

Next I tracked down the phone numbers of some of the busiest drummers in town and called them up cold. I imagine these players get lots of calls from industrious hustlers new to Nashville and I wasn't sure what I'd say if I got one of them on the phone. "Hi. I just got to town. Can I ride your coat tails?" Or "Do your sub drummers' subs ever need subs?" But I haven't had to figure out an approach yet because none of them answered and so far none has called me back. 

After a couple months I got tired of just watching music happen and started taking free gigs so I could play. I got a call to back up a singer at a songwriter's showcase. There was no money but it was a quick set, the drums were provided, and I was dying to play some music. The drums are provided in many clubs in Nashville, by the way, in order to switch bands out faster. Often times you just bring cymbals and a snare drum. The kit that night was a DW four peice. The heads were destroyed and I would have rather played my drums, but not having to load in and out was nice and everything worked out fine. The singer called to book another gig the next week and I snapped it up. Another freebie, but at least I was getting on stage. This time the drum situation was different though. There was a bass drum, rack tom and floor tom but no hardware - not even a throne or kick pedal. So I grabbed a folding chair, gripped the snare drum between my thighs and rode the rack tom rim with my right hand while playing the snare and bass drum (on the floor tom) with my left. I made it through the set but my legs were cramping by the first chorus and it was hard to walk the next day. 

I was starting to play out now but still wasn't making any money. I'd graduated from "playing for free" to "playing for dinner" though and it felt like progress. Then, just as it was beginning to wear on me, I heard about an amazing opportunity. I was having coffee with a well connected friend and he told me Ben Folds' long time drummer had just left the band and they were looking for a replacement. I couldn't believe it. Ben Folds is one of the reasons I came to Nashville in the first place. Not because I imagined he might need someone, but just because if he was in Nashville there could be others like him there, too. Now the position was open, my style is perfect for his songs, and I was right there to audition for it. I even had a friend that could put us in touch! All of a sudden the whole crazy move started to make sense and I began to think I'd unknowingly come to Nashville to be here when this job came up. The next day, though, as I was imagining what the audition would be like, my friend called to tell me they'd already found someone. Apparently some kid who knows all the songs, sings like a bird, and plays his ass off had been hired before I'd even known there was a change going down. In the 24 hours I'd thought the gig was available I'd let my imagination run wild, pondering destiny and timing and fate as if they were on my side. In the end, however, they were trumped by the unflinching patience of the same reality I thought I'd beat. I felt like a Salmon who had awoken from a spawning dream to realize he was still in the ocean. 

In my first three months in Nashville I've made more friends than money. The good news is I've made some really great friends. Musicians who've been here a while already have their social circles and so new people tend to gravitate together and create their own cliques. The other newbies and I look out for each other because when it comes to getting work we're all in the same boat. 

One of the friends I've made is a newbie named Glenn. He was the drummer for Eddie Money for years. I used to watch him in on Mtv when I was growing up. Now he's in Nashville plugging away like I am, hoping to bring his family out when things get better. Glenn and I try to keep our heads up with self deprecating humor. A typical conversation might go something like:

1: "I was wondering if you could squeeze me in for lunch next week. What's your schedule look like?" 

2: "Oh. Let me check. Ya, my schedule next week looks like... ah... looks like a snowdrift! How about yours?" 

1: "Well, let's see. The only thing on my calendar are two concerned eyes. Oh wait. That's my reflection on the empty screen."

2: "Perfect. I can do Monday or Tuesday, or anytime Wednesday through Friday, or we could wait until the week end, which is free as well."

1: "Let's do Monday. I'll call if I get a master session or something."

2: "Ya. And I'll call if I get the Keith Urban gig."

The other day, after having exhausted the stores of humor we use to protect ourselves, we were standing around, arms crossed, staring at the floor. I said "Glenn, I've made $62 since I've been here." He said "Ya, buddy. I've made $75." We didn't talk for a while and then I said "Man I wish I pulled down your kind of bread." And we started laughing again. And then we laughed until tears came out, like it was the funniest thing we'd ever heard.

As I drove across the country in my drum laden Jeep the great moods I kept feeling surprised me. I'd worried that the enormity of leaving my life behind might catch up at some depressing truck stop in the middle of nowhere and seize me with a wave of despair, but it never happened. I drove five hundred miles a day and hardly even got bored. Maybe it was the excitement of going to Nashville. I knew it wouldn't be as easy. I didn't think I was going to just waltz in and start gigging every night, but I was thinking positive thoughts and looking forward to the music ahead. 

It was on my first day in town, however, that the feelings I'd feared hit me full tilt. I've spent a lot of time away from home on tour with various bands, but this situation felt completely different. One reason was because when you're on the road, you're working and hopefully making a little money. Also, the driving and hotel living serve as a daily reminder that what you're doing is ultimately temporary. But those comforting factors were erased now that I was coming back to the same house every night with no gigs lined up. I went from a touring musician to a guy renting a room; from a Dad/Husband to a boarder, and it felt like a long, permanent fall. 

Then there was the season. As beautiful as Nashville can be, the winter months are not the best time to be there. The grass dies, the leaves are gone, and the sun sets about two hours earlier than I was used to. One night I was staring out the window at dusk and it was cold and windy. A grey squirrel ran by looking for cover. "Grey?" I thought. "We have brown squirrels at home." As I thinking about all the changes a train whistle blew in the distance and my guts shifted two inches lower than I thought possible. I felt like I was in some seedy James Ellroy novel. I called home and told my wife the story. She said, "I thought you loved that dark stuff." I said, "Ya, just not when I'm the main character." 

The next day I forced myself to get on the phone, which ended up being the best thing I could have done. The warmth of the Nashville community corrected my down turn, because its just impossible to feel sorry for yourself when you're talking to one nice person after another. Everyone I called said "Welcome to Nashville! When can you come over?" and after my first day of cold calling I already had a schedule to keep.

The people in Nashville move a little slower and show more patience than the folks from home. People smile and say "hello". Where I'm from if a stranger smiles and says hello its usually followed by "Got a dollar?" I was walking out of a grocery store and the security guard said "Have a nice day!" Only he said it with a clarity and focus in his eyes, like he really meant it; like if I had a bad day it might cause him genuine concern. 

The first night I went out I happened into to a club where they were playing experimental Jazz. The drummer had a mallet in one hand, a brush in the other, and seemed to be dead set against playing anything with time. I'd carried the misconception that every stage in town would have incredible players performing heartbreaking songs, but that isn't the case. Fortunately there IS great stuff happening every night if you know where to go.

I'd heard about a club called the Family Wash and it turned out to be a good place to start. There's a songwriter night on Tuesdays that attracts lots of players. I was talking to a guy at the bar and mentioned I'd just moved to town. He said, "Welcome to Nashville!" and introduced me to about ten musicians in a half hour's time. I went to his website the next day and discovered he was a great singer/songwriter himself and also plays guitar as a sideman for an artist I've always liked. 

As I talked to people and met more players I kept hearing about "Billy Block's Western Beat Night". The Beat Night happens once a week at a club called 12th and Porter. Besides hosting the show, Billy Block is an established drummer, does an Americana radio program, and generally seems to serve as the mayor of Music City. I introduced myself and he couldn't have been nicer. "Welcome to Nashville!" he said. "Welcome to Nashville!" is the first thing you hear whenever you meet someone new, and like the security guard at the grocery store, they seem to mean it. 

The Western Beat Night has five or six great bands that play a half hour set each. I was so blown away by the music and talent I didn't notice at first, but then it occurred to me that every time someone new walked in the room it was all hugs and kisses, like everyone had known eachother all their lives. Eventually I started to wonder if I'd crashed a family reunion. I tried not to worry that these people had all been working together for years, and reminded myself that a room full of happy, hugging people is a good place to be.

On Sunday nights there's a show at a club called "3rd and Lindsley" that a lot of players go to. I met some people there and saw some of the most amazing playing I've ever seen. The guy I went with was pointing out the band members just before they started. "That guy plays with Keith Urban and the other dude plays with the Dixie Chicks. The keyboardist is with Delbert McClinton, and the drummer does a lot of sessions in town." Nashville is a city where a singer/songwriter can put together a pick up band, do one rehearsal, and pull off a knockout show, complete with seques, complex breakdowns, and intricate song endings. Of course, the singer's songs and voice were amazing as well and he topped it off by knocking out a guitar solo that would have forced Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck into a teary hug. 

After observing the Nashville scene for a while I was itching to work myself so I answered an "Drummer Wanted" add in the paper and played my first gig. The band was full of very nice people but they were all from California! I thought it was a coincidence but it wasn't really. There are a lot of Californians in Nashville, and a lot of transplants from other states as well. In fact, there aren't too many native Nashvillians in the music scene at all. I met a drummer who was born and raised in town. He pointed this fact out with a chuckle and the guy next to us said "You grew up here? That's so cool!" 

I had to get a read on what kind of income you could make in Nashville and after speaking to a couple of musicians that play in big national acts I was surprised to hear that the touring money isn't what you might think. Even on the top level, sidemen only make $40-50,000 annually. That's good money to play music but it won't set you up very long if the band loses momentum or switches their players after a couple years. I was told time and time again, "You don't make "rock" money here." 

The difference in Nashville though is that, because of the proximity to so many other major markets, a lot of the touring is four or five days out, then back for a couple nights at home. One of the guys I talked to has been with a huge national act for eight years and said the longest tour they'd ever done was three weeks. When you're touring out of west coast you have to go so far to reach other markets that traveling back and forth kills the profits. For that reason, any run shorter than three weeks tends to lose money. Lot's of times you'll go for a month or two (or three) depending on how much tour support or merchandise sales you get. So the trade off is, you don't make as much in Nashville, but the home time is nice and the cost of living allows you to get by on less income anyway. For road work, I'm told January and February are the months when big artists put their bands together for spring and summer tours, so I plan to send some promo packs to a few management companies and record labels. If I can get some auditions I think I have a decent shot at landing something.

As for the session scene, that's a situation you build into slowly and lose quickly. There are already lots of great players working in town and until there's a reason to make a change the producers normally keep them around. A local producer told me the budgets for recording have become much smaller and so producers use proven players they are sure can knock out a whole album in a day. If a player can't make a few session calls in a row, and a new person does a great job subbing, the sub has a good chance of getting the call for the next session. But to get the sub call you have to keep climbing the ladder, to the edge of the level above you, until you get a break. 

Another drawback to the session world is that top players seem to have a "shelf life" even if they don't sub out jobs. I talked to musicians that were in the studio every day and still felt their work could dry up at anytime. I met a realtor who said he was a session bassist for a few years until they "changed the guard". He directed me to his web site and I was shocked to see he'd played on over forty top ten hits in the 90's. If you're one of the few players on the top level you can do real well for yourself while it lasts, but the gig is just too coveted to provide work, income, and security, too. The place to begin a session career is "demo" recordings. They pay around $50-100 per song and if you can get to a point where you are working a few days a week it can support you while you're trying to get "master" (album) sessions, which pay much more. 

I've now been here long enough to see the possibilities but not long enough to know what is most likely to happen. Nashville has been a good but sometimes confusing experience that I hope turns into a great decision in time. I've learned that my "attitude" is a decision I choose to make every day. Getting lost on their crazy freeway system sucks, but at least there's no traffic. I got a parking ticket, but it was only 10 dollars. A guy waved me down while I was driving, but it turned out he was just waving. A big time drummer told me I'd need another job even if I was playing a lot, but Billy Block said "Don't worry, man. You're gonna do just fine!" What can I say? He looked like he meant it. 

I got a call a couple months ago from the band Train. They were finishing their latest tour and had a problem. It seems their drummer's wife was nine months pregnant and the tour wasn't over yet. Someone hadn't done the math properly and now they had a week left with two shows landing just days before her due date. Scott Underwood, the drummer, had decided he wasn't going to miss the birth of his baby, even if it meant jumping off stage during a show and peeling out to the nearest airport. So they chose to get an understudy; someone who could learn the songs, learn the show, and be there in case "nature called". And I was hired for the job.

Scott phoned me at home and we talked about the songs and worked out the dates. He was on the road and said they could record a couple live gigs and mail them to me. Great! There was two and a half weeks to get the stuff together and I had two of their CD's already, so I listened to their music and tried to get familiar with the beats and arrangements while waiting for the live stuff to arrive. I made little charts for the hit songs, figuring they'd be in the live show, and I listened to the records two or three times a day as I did stuff around the house. 

It occurred to me that I didn't know where these two shows were taking place so I went to Train's website and looked at their schedule. The first show was in central California at a big fair, and the second was... oh my! The second was at the Greek Theater in Berkeley! 

The Greek Theater is a beautiful 8000 seat bowl cut into a mountain above the Cal campus. I was raised near it and used to dream about playing there as a kid. When my brother and I were young, and too poor to go to concerts, we used to lay in the soccer field next to the Greek and listen to shows by Santana, REM, the B-52's, etc. Then when I was a little older I got to see some shows from the inside, and it was always a great experience. I'd almost played there once. Counting Crows was booked at the Greek in 1994. I had forty people on the guest list and couldn't wait for the night to come. Unfortunately, I was fired two weeks before the show, and instead of "rocking the Greek" I spent that night "sulking the house". But now I had another chance, and I couldn't wait to get to work on the songs.

The recordings didn't show up for a few days and when another week went by and I started to get nervous. Finally a Fed-Ex envelope showed up. I ripped it open and there were two CD's of shows they'd played the week before. I took one out and put it on. The first CD started half way through a song I'd never heard before. "Oh boy." I thought. "Three second in and I already have questions." But as the show went on I heard some of the songs I'd worked on and a few more that I was familiar with from listening to the radio so I started to relax.

Train is a very engaging live band and there were lots of stops, starts, and crowd participation moments that I would have to be aware of. There was also a long drum solo in the middle of the set. But I got really nervous when I found the second CD had four or five songs that weren't in the first show. I had a lot of work to do and only seven days left to do it.

I had a fairly free week so I was able to immerse myself in the music. I listened at home and in the car, and worked on getting the live arrangements written out whenever I had free time. I compared the set lists and found that between the two shows there were seventeen songs total, so I wrote charts for all of them and played along to the CD's a couple times a day. 

When I started to feel like I was getting it down I tried playing to the CD's without the charts. I was still missing some of the beats and breaks so I made specific notes of anything that surprised me during my run throughs and played to the CD's some more. On the day before I was to fly to L.A. for the first show I wrote a list of every song I'd learned. I made two copies; one to give to the band, and one to keep. On the copy I kept I wrote the tempos, beats, and who started the song next to each title. I felt ready. In fact, after all the work I'd done I was hoping the baby would come early.

I flew to L.A. in the morning. The tour manager met me at the airport and we drove to a really nice hotel. He gave me a key and told me the van was leaving for the venue in an hour, so I went up to the room to relax a little before we left. I didn't know if I had a room mate or not so I opened the door just a little and said "Hello?", but despite the immense size of the room there was only one bed. "Thank you, Train." I was used to doubling up and sometimes having a third person on a roll away but these guys were doing pretty well and there was none of that.

After an hour I went downstairs and saw the guys and we were driven to the venue. We drove for about an hour and had a good talk. The guys were a little road weary but overcame it with great senses of humor. After a while we pulled off the freeway and into a backstage area. It was a outdoor venue with a huge stage and about 5000 seats. A big country act had played there the night before and Kelly Clarkson would be there the next night. I did the sound check with the band so we could get a little rehearsing in in case Scott got the call, and I was pleased to get through all the songs we played without a hitch. Then we had dinner and I went to the fair while they relaxed before the show.

The plan was for me to stay close enough to know if Scott needed to leave. I could sit side stage, back stage, or watch the show from the house. I decided to watch the show from one of the back rows. I played along on my legs at first but then just enjoyed the performance. They were great and the crowd was really loving it. 

Halfway through there was a three song acoustic section Scott didn't play on and he went off stage to check his messages. I went back as well to see if there was any word from his wife. "Everythings cool." He said, hanging up the phone. So I went back to my seat and watched the rest of the show. When it was over they did a "meet and greet" with some of the fans, then we went back to the hotel and crashed early. The next day we were flying to Berkeley - and the Greek Theater...

The show's call time was 5:00 but I got there at 4:00. I wanted to soak it all in. I walked onto the stage and looked at all the seats. It was the first time I'd seen the Greek from that vantage point and it looked spectacular. I checked out the back stage area, too. Very cool. The opening act was a guy I knew from the bay area and we were talking as the rest of the band got there. Then we did a sound check and I was able to play the Greek for the first time. Kind of. We went through four or five songs and everything seemed to be in order. 

After the check was dinner and then, while the guys got ready, I explored all the confines of the venue. I sat in the very front row and looked at the stage. Then the doors opened and the crowd started coming in so I walked around for a while and ended up in the very last row on top of the bowl. They were playing Abbey Road and it was a beautiful night. Train was kind enough to put tickets at the door for my wife and kids so I met them when they got there and helped them find their seats. I checked in with Scott one more time. Still no word from his wife, so I watched the opener with my family.

I went back when later and Scott was on the phone again. Could this be the call? He hung up and smiled. "No change." he said. "Damn." I thought. A few minutes later the lights went down, the crowd went nuts, and Train started the show. I sat in the crowd and played along on my knees. The acoustic break came and I shot backstage one more time. "Last chance to play the Greek", I thought. Scott was checking his wife's progress. There was still half a show left. He hung up. "Guess we're okay." 

My wife had to get the kids to bed before the band was off so I watched the end of the show from the wings by myself. On the last song they blew off confetti cannons and it came down all around me as the crowd went wild. They finished the encore and walked past me, sweaty and tired. They'd played a great show. I sat there on the side of the stage for a while watching the people file out. It had been the best gig I'd never had. 

Scott's wife had the baby a couple days later and everything worked out for the best. I didn't get to play live with Train but I had a good time and it was an exciting couple of days. Of course, if Scott gets his wife pregnant again next year I'm pretty sure I'll get the call. As Bill Murray said in Caddyshack, "I got that going for me - which is nice." 

Steve Bowman

I was at the NAMM show a couple of years ago looking for a place to take a nap. It was Day Three, which is when you realize you're saturated with the NAMM experience and ready to go home. By that point you've talked to everyone you came to talk to, ogled every product display you wanted to see, and met so many famous drummers it doesn't perk you up anymore. Just that morning I'd accidentally knocked into a guy who looked like Omar Hakim. As I apologized I realized it WAS Omar Hakim - and I didn't care! If I'd seen Omar Hakim at a grocery store or a bowling alley it would have been very cool, but after three days at NAMM I was having a hard time getting excited about anything. I was NAMMED out. Then all of a sudden Mick Fleetwood walked into the frame and my whole world blurred into slow motion. 

He walked up and went right past me towards a beautiful drum display. "Sit down and play, Mick." I thought. He spoke to the drum maker for a couple minutes and then, as if I'd willed it myself, sat down at one of the drum sets and was handed a pair of sticks. I looked around the room to see who was catching this. There were only a few other people on hand but they all had the same wide eyed, open mouth gawk I was sporting. We were prepared to see something incredible. Maybe the drum solo from TUSK? 

Mick tapped the toms. He hit the bass drum. And then... some bruiser in the booth next door went into a frenzied double bass spectacular. Mick sat at the drums waiting. He spoke into the ear of the drum maker while the racket continued. After a minute it ended and Mick paused to gather himself. He hit the floor tom a couple times. Then he smiled and lifted his left stick high into the air. The stick was falling when the drums next door exploded back to life again like a panic attack. It was the Aflac Duck of drumming! The offender was concealed behind a tall but thin display wall and had no idea he was ruining our chance to see Mick Fleetwood play, so I decided to run around the other side and see if I could get him to stop. 

I came around the corner and was surprised to see a kid about ten years old sitting behind a huge drum set, wailing all four limbs like he was on fire. His Dad stood next to him with a narcissistic glaze on his face. I didn't know whether to yell at the kid or the Dad and while I considered my options a guy ran up from behind me and barked "Hey you! Cut it! Fleetwood Mac is next door!" Then he turned and ran back around the wall. The last thing I saw was the father's face draw in with confusion as I bolted back around too, so as to not miss a note. But when I got there Mick was... standing! 

I tried to use my new found powers of mind control. "Sit down Mick. It's ok." I concentrated intensely but respectfully. "Maybe you could favor us with, say, the solo from TUSK?" The moment had apparently passed for Mick, though, because after a second he shook hands with the drum maker and walked away, leaving a small group of us in a collective slump as we watched him go. 

When I got home I pulled out Fleetwood Mac's greatest hits CD. Growing up my brother and I had worn out a copy of "Rumours". Besides listening and playing to it we'd racked up hours and hours just staring at the pictures on the album. I started analyzing Mick's drumming to see if I could pin point what makes him so great, and as I did this I was reminded of just how much he'd influenced my playing. The songs went by and I heard the tones I'm always trying to get and the parts I tend to go for. I heard the little quirky things I'd thought were part of my own unique style, only to find he'd played them twenty-five years prior. I discovered how much my own playing owes to his ideas. Turns out I've been ripping off Mick Fleetwood for years!

One of the things that sets Mick's drumming apart from the rest is his use of unorthodox parts that sound normal. He does this on an unorthodox drum set that looks normal. "It's a regular five piece set up, right?" you squint from the audience. Except something's not the same. The ride toms over the bass drum are switched so the small tom is on the "wrong" side of the big tom. (Huh?) Then you hear him play and it all starts to make sense. Everything about his playing is a little skewed, changing the definition of "normal". 

The beat on "Rhiannon" for example. What sounds like a regular four on the floor groove has a tom on beat four instead of a snare hit. No big deal, except that the tom hit changes to beat two with a snare on four later in the song, and then ends up going back and forth between the two beats almost randomly after that. And this is easy to hear because - get this - he doesn't play any HI HATS on the song! (Huh- Huh?!?) I'd heard "Rhiannon" a hundred times and had no idea this happened until I focused on the drumming alone.

"Gypsy" is another song in which the groove changes randomly. The kick pattern is on one and three and the "ands" of one and three, but after a while he changes it to the "ands" of two and four. And then back again! And this time the hats are as consistent as a Linn drum machine, as if stability is important after all. 

On "Dreams" he chooses to put crashes on beat two instead of beat one of the measure. (Huh huh - WHAT!?) Again, you might think he's off until the hi hat notes remind you how solid and undeviating his playing can be. 

Want to hear an airtight shuffle? Listen to the groove in "Don't Stop". But before the beat even starts, check out the perfect triplet crescendo that introduces the drums. In "Don't Stop" he puts crashes on beat two as well, then later chooses to skip crashes altogether in some really big changes like the 2nd verse, solo, and the chorus out. (Daaaaaaaa- Huh?)

There are many great Mick Fleetwood drum tracks but the playing on "Sara" is my favorite. This song is played with brushes. One hand does eighth notes on the snare while the other plays two descending tom notes after the "two and four" snare hits. The thing about this groove is that the three drum hits decrease in volume as they pass. "DAP Doom doom, DAP Doom doom, DAP Doom doom" The effect gives the track a tone of distant sadness, as if the drummer is too wiped out to play three notes in a row and lapses into a stagger after each snare hit. Add the slow, even fade of the beautiful sizzle cymbal and the drum track alone is enough to sink you into a coma of despair.

Growing up with Fleetwood Mac was one of the lucky breaks of being a child of the 70's and I'm happy to say I took full advantage of it. Mick Fleetwood's playing ignored the rules of drumming in pop music and allowed him to create from a boundless palette of ideas. His musicality seeped into my playing style and I'm far better for it. If you're not familiar with Fleetwood Mac you might want to log on to iTunes and listen to some song samples. You may end up buying a few. I know I did. I even bought Mick's book and read it. And one time I almost saw him play TUSK at the NAMM show. If only I could have concentrated harder... 

Steve Bowman

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Drummer (Wet Cherry/Loggins and Messina) available now! (Nashville)

Reply to: comm-890211114@craigslist.org ^[?^]

Date: 2008-10-23, 8:53AM CDT

I'm a rock and roll drummer whose been to the dance looking to get back to what I do best... drums! If you remember Wet Cherry then you remember it was a knockout club band that people still say should have been signed. We had horns, 4 part vox, the whole bag. We had sound. Had lights. I remember Wet Cherry pretty well. Because, well, because I was the drummer... for Wet Cherry. 

Why did we play over 200 dates a year? I guess we were stupid kids chasin' dreams. So sue us! We didn't know any other way to play than to play our best. For the FAAAAAANS! The road became our home just like somebody who goes to a house every night. The road was the house we went to, every night, for 6 years! 

In 1977 our manager got us a little gig. That is, if opening for Loggins and Messina at Bear Lake on their "Best of Friends" tour is little! "Your Mama Don't Dance" was all over the airwaves and some people told us they could party. Well, that was the night history was made because people still say Wet Cherry blew Loggins and Messina off the stage. We didn't write "Mama Can't Dance" but we'd been playing it for a while and our version was tight! They were pissed and we were like, "You know? What do you got?". 

Anyway I had some demons to work out and an old lady to get outa my fricken head! but now I'm back and good for a touring rock gig. I play double kicks and sing with a falsetto. (That's right, "Seven Bridges Road" is back in the book. I take the high part.) And just because of Wet Cherry don't mean I'm not a team player. Ya, I shared a stage with Loggins and Messina! Get over it! I still hump gear and nobody sits until the van is loaded in my book. And you don't step over something you can carry - unless you want a wrench across your back. Great part is I got a good woman who's keep my nose outta the bag and also, because of her I don't chase pus no more. (Which yous'd get me into TROUBUUUULLLL!!) 

I'm looking to play music with people who are not afraid of working hard. I want hard workers with grit. And bills. I need folks that got stuff to pay off! 

I'm in Whites Creek with a dead car so lets meet here. AND PLAY SOME ROCK! with the former drummer for Wet Cherry (Loggins and Messina)!

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My name is Steve Bowman and I am a "wanker". I'm not proud of this and have worked hard to be better, but I was drawn to "the wank" at an early age and have battled it on and off for years. The way it started was innocent enough, yet before I knew it I was ruining songs and destroying shows. Here is my story.

When I was in my late teens I worked for three years as a drummer at a theme park. It was a big indoor show with eight singer/dancers and a stage director and lighting and sound crews. It felt like a big gig at the time. The shows we performed featured contemporary top-40 hits and "up with people" style medleys from the 50's, 60's and 70'. The shows at the park had safe, snappy names like "Hot Hits" and "Billboard Bonanza". The arrangements sounded like they were written in a corporate meeting room under florescent lights while standing at attention, but the idea of a musical "day gig" was exciting to me - as was the idea of hanging out with beautiful dancers, and though we only made $8 dollars an hour, you could still get home in time to rehearse with your original band or even play a paying gig at night. 

It was a great job except for one problem... because the show only changed once a year we had to play the exact same music six times a day, six days a week, for seven months - same songs, tempos, and set. One year we played a show called "Brand New Beat" 876 times. 

The theme park recruited musicians from the local colleges and there were some really good players around, but this kind of gig required a different set of skills than we'd worked on in our school practice rooms. This job required consistency, maturity, and professionalism on stage. We had none of these qualities and often did really stupid things to "keep ourselves sane" during the long season. Once, I had the bassist lead me on stage with my eyes closed and I won a bet by not opening them throughout the entire performance. (Never mind those cues.) Another time two band members switched pants onstage during a darkly lit ballad. 

Eventually we would even be reduced to intentionally messing up the other performers for laughs - actually sabotaging our own show. Sometimes we'd start the a song down a key and go up for the first verse, forcing the unsuspecting soloist to come in a full key flat. Sometimes the band would all eye each other and, on a nod, slip in a bar of 5, then howl as the dancers stumbled back into their parts. 

But as unprofessional as those things were we eventually did something even more horrible. We went on to commit the worst crime against pop music you can commit. What we did... well... we "wanked." We blew unforgivable chops over the songs to feed our own egos. We sacrificed the music for our own glory. We "wanked". 

Imagine the guys in Dream Theater playing "Wind Beneath My Wings'. It began with a little lick here and there. No big deal, right? Just a little something to fight the boredom? But one thing led to another, and soon we were trying to "outwank" eachother. We became some of the wankingist wankers to ever wank! As a drummer I should have been the voice of reason. I should have stopped it in the name of good music everywhere... in the name of grooving! Something! But no. Instead I led the pack. I was Wankenstein. A serial wanker. The Uniwanker! And it would take years to recover. 

What developed at the theme park was a kind of "perfect storm" of wankification. You had young, cocky college players who were very excited about music, yet forced to play the same silly set all day, every day, week-in week-out. Something had to give, and eventually we bagged the parts we'd rehearsed at the beginning of the season and soothed our "inner hams" with blistering odd-time stupidity. Didn't matter what the song was about or who was singing. These songs were merely canvases for us to paint over, and we painted some real Wanka Lisas! I would superimpose things I was practicing at home over the top regardless of it's relevance to the style or feel, and I thought nothing of going over the bar line for a few measures whenever it occurred to me to do so. After all, I was practicing Garibaldi's linear studies and wanted to show it off! 

Because of our greed and youth we didn't consider the needs of the singer/dancers onstage with us, and sometimes there were train wrecks even the smiling seniors and children in the audience couldn't ignore. When you saw an old woman throw her hand over her mouth you could be sure "they heard it". Sometimes the show would end and instead of clapping the crowd would just file out with confused looks on their faces. But the saddest part was that the whole time this was happening we actually thought we were being great musicians! 

Drummers in pop music are always subject to wanking because in order to best fit the music you need to play less notes, and this becomes a problem if the drummer isn't listening to the song. If the drummer is just thinking about how the drums sound (or worse, how he/she looks while playing!) there's a good chance you'll get wanktious activity. 

Here's a classic sighting: I went to see this great singer a while back and the drummer was wanking all night. This guy was like "Count Wankula". It was driving me crazy. Besides overplaying he was twirling his sticks, waving to people while he was playing, standing up after songs, etc. I mean, if you're Tommy Lee or something fine, but this guy was backing up a really great singer/songwriter. The show went on and it was getting worse when all of a sudden "The Count" got real serious in the face, reared up, and busted out this double bass/16th note/triplet fill - only it kinked up on him half way through and the whole groove fell apart. He shook his head as the band recovered, but before long he got that look on his face again. I was hoping I wasn't going to see the worst offence of wankitude possible, but sure enough it happened. He did - "the make up fill". (Wanker thinking here is: If you eventually nail the fill, all previous attempts are erased!) This time he DID nail it, and he celebrated by throwing his head back and and enjoying a long, lazy smile - resulting in the loss of about 5 beats per minute. When it was all over I yelled, "Hey drummer! You missed a great song!" He gave me a "thumb's up", assuming I must have yelled praise.

And here's another one from the front: Once I was doing a recording session with a wanky bassist. His crime was playing "Flight of the Bumble Bee" while we were tracking. I don't know how he played "Flight of the Bumble Bee" on a bass but he did. Problem was we were in between takes of a song. You can imagine finishing a take and wondering how you can make it better on the next pass... "How's the build on the bridge?" Is the feel consistent? Gotta remember to hit that cue the producer wanted. Alright. What's the temp-" FLIGHT OF THE BUMBLE BEE IS NOW IN MY HEADPHONES!!! HE'S PLAYING IT ON A BASS, EVERYONE. EVERYONE LOOK HOW FAST HE PLAYS! "Man! Oh!... Stop that! Okay, what's the feel? Jeez, would you stop that? Okay, think! What's this song abou-" HE'S STILL PLAYING IT! HE'S PLAYING "FLIGHT OF THE BUMBLE BEE" ON HIS BASS! "I can't believe this guy! Man! Shut the- Ohhhh! Okay! Concentrate! I need to remember to open the hats more on the pre-chor-..." HE APPARENTLY LEARNED AND PRACTICED THE WHOLE DAMN THING AND IS GOING TO FINISH!!! I GUESS WE'LL ALL HAVE TO STOP AND LISTEN!!! The producer leaned into us while we were eating lunch and said, (confident whisper) "We'll have a new bassist tomorrow." And that was that.

When more than one wanker get together it's called a "flam". One wanker in a band is enough but when you have a whole "flam of wankers" the results are always bad. This is because when there's no one with taste to speak up the wanking goes unchecked. Even worse, when a flam get together wanking is actually encouraged and rewarded, with knowing smiles and "funk frowns". (In these situations the wankature gets progressively worse until the band either breaks up or becomes a "Tower of Power" tribute band.) 

Because of the psychological nature of the affliction the wanker is often the last to know there's a problem. This is because, ironically, the wanker thinks they're doing a BETTER job than a non-wanker would do. They actually think they are going beyond the call of duty by putting such "incredible drumming" in (or should I say "on") the song. No matter what your crime, there can be no worse offense than putting your own interests ahead of a great song. It's even worse than sabotage because while both crimes ultimately achieve the same result, sabotage is self-destructive and wanking is self-indulgent, and self-destructive music is always better than self-indulgent stuff. (I think.)

Are you a wanker? Do you know? Here are some ways you can tell if you have a problem.

1. Do you ever look for drummers in the crowd while playing?

2. Have you ever tried to slip "bitchin' Latin stuff" into a sad song?

3. Do you ever think about how you look while playing live - while playing live?

4. Does your set up have more than one splash cymbal?

5. Do you get frustrated waiting for the verse to end so you can do the fill into the chorus?

6. Have you ever done a "make up fill"?

If you think you have a problem don't worry because there is help. The first step is admitting you have a problem. Then, just follow this simple rule. It's easier than you think. When you play pop music all you have to do is: 

Play what the singer would play if the singer were playing drums. 

If the singer were in the middle of a vocal phrase they probably wouldn't do a fill. If the vocals were soft and sad the singer probably wouldn't play 32nd notes between the hi-hats and splash cymbals. The singer wouldn't do a china crash/double bass run into a verse about "loneliness". And the singer would never do a "make up fill" because they'd be too busy delivering the song to know there was a NEED for one. See? If you aren't sure what the singer would play on drums listen to the lyrics, tempo, and arrangement. What's the song about? What's the vibe of the music? How does the mood of the song affect the way you play your parts? 

I've been "solid" for years now but I still fall prey to the draw of an occasional wank. It's something I'll have to keep in check for the rest of my life. Even though I've had help I still catch myself thinking bad thoughts sometimes. Like, "I bet I could fit triplets into that." Or, "I wonder what a nine stroke roll would sound like on these hi-hats." At times like this I have to remind myself that the temporary glory and guilty pleasure I receive from wanking are ultimately hollow, and that the best feeling you can have playing music comes from the satisfaction you get when you play a song so unselfishly and true to the song that the room goes into a trance. 

We aren't just drummers, after all. We're musicians! And when you're packing up to go home after the show and you get a high five from a sweaty, satisfied singer? Well, there isn't a flam of wankers anywhere that can replace that - no matter how funky their frowns.

Steve Bowman 

Bad news, folks. Due to the plague of illness that has wiped out Nashville we have been forced to cancel our 3rd and Lindsley performance tonight. Thanks to all of you who wrote to say you were coming. Thanks to the Dixie Chicks for their "back ups" offer (we were kidding about making you audition!) and to Marty Scorsese for suggesting we film it and make a movie. (...promise to watch that reel you dropped off, M.)

David Henry is a talented Nashville producer/engineer whom I first met in 2005 when he mixed the Bittersweets' debut album. A year later I moved to Nashville myself and since that time I've been lucky enough to work with David on records for Tori Sparks, Rod Picott, Joe Rathbone, the Bittersweets again, and others. 

Besides having great ears and great gear, David is also a fine musician. His main instruments are bass and cello, but David also plays piano, guitar, mandolin, trumpet, percussion, and vocals. (David would be modest but I've heard him record great tracks on every one of those instruments.) David's studio, True Tone Recording, is a converted house in the hipster heavy 12 South area and is always booked solid. I recently met David at an Indian restaurant on his lunch break and we had the following conversation:

SB: So you grew up Georgia, right?

DH: That's right. In Macon.

Oh. And you originally started as a guitarist, playing music with your brother Ned?

DH: Yes. When we first started I played guitar and sang, but Ned quickly proved to be the better guitarist so I looked for something else to do and ended up playing bass. 

SB: And you guys had a band?

DH: Ya, we had a band with our buddies in Junior High.

SB: Did you ever play gigs?

DH: Our biggest gig back then was the Junior High School talent show. It was an inner city school and we played Neil Young's "Like A Hurricane". We thought it was cool because it was distorted but basically we played this long, slow song -

SB: For kids who wanted to dance!

DH: Ya. (laughs) It went over like a ton of bricks. Around that time our older brother Jeff had a band with his guys and we eventually combined our bands. 

SB: How much older was Jeff?

DH: Three years.

SB: So that's a big difference. Now you were playing with High School guys.

DH: Ya, but both our bands were terrible. (laughs) What happened was, someone got a gig playing outside by a lake and the gig was like 9 hours long and nobody had enough material, so we put the two bands together. We realized then that we should just make one band, so Jeff, Ned, and I got a drummer and we did that for a while.

SB: What kind of music were you listening to around that time? And was it the radio or records or what? 

DH: Well, Ned and I are the youngest of four boys and our oldest brother George was heavily into the Stones, Neil Young, and Dylan; stuff like that. And I really got hooked into those records and didn't really listen to the radio for a while. I kind of checked out around the time Madonna was hitting it big. 

SB: So you were listening to those classic records?

DH: Ya, and making tapes and stuff. And from there I became a huge Bruce Springsteen fan and then Mellencamp, REM, and that whole scene.

SB: What was your band's music like?

DH: Kind of like a bad version of all of the above. (laughs) At one point we had a sax player and we were going for the Springsteen thing. Springsteen with a twang. We had three part harmonies.

SB: Wow. Three part harmonies are pretty cool for a young band.

DH: Yes, but like a young band we figured it out and then overused it. We had three part harmonies on every song from the first note all the way to the end.

SB: (laughs) Well, it must have taught you how to sing together. 

DH: Oh ya. In hindsight it was great. I learned a lot about harmony and voicing and that kind of stuff.

SB: So, when you think of a drummer from back then are there any names that come to mind?

DH: Well, Charlie Watts was certainly the first drummer that got my attention. I didn't know why at the time but now that I produce records I realize what I love about his drumming. I love how he serves the song. 

SB: Can you elaborate on what it means to "serve the song"?

DH: Ya. He's assertive, but the parts he plays go so well with the lyric and the vocal melody. And all the percussion parts, too. I just love those tracks.

SB: Is there a particular Stone's song that comes to mind when you think of Charlie Watts?

DH: Well, there's 20 of them on "Hot Rocks" alone! (laughs) But one track I've always loved is "Satisfaction". When the band stops and Charlie keeps going... and it's not even a fill, he just continues the beat, you know? But it is so exciting! 

SB: Ya, I love that break.

DH: And then there's the other side of his playing, like on "Can't Always Get What You Want", with the parts and the percussion, and... it could be RINGO on some of the fills in that song.

SB: You're right. And speaking of Ringo?

DH: Well, of course I loved Ringo, too, but with that Stones vs. Beatles thing? I've always leaned towards the Stones because of the groove. I mean, the Beatles had such great writing and playing and everything, but the Stones had that groove. That's what really got me into music early on.

SB: So back then, if you were auditioning a drummer, what would you have been looking for?

DH: Well, where we lived, if you found a guy who had a set of sticks that was your drummer. (laughs) We had a good drummer, actually, and we played with him from Junior High all the way through college frat bands. We were on the same circuit as Hootie And The Blowfish, you know?

SB: Oh wow!

DH: Our drummer was good but I kind of wish we'd been a more adventurous and mixed it up a little with other players. We would have learned a lot more.

SB: When did Brother Henry come about?

DH: That was around 1998-99 after we moved to Nashville.

SB: And you found Park Ellis to be the drummer for the band?

DH: Ya, Park and I did this kid's record together and, you know, Park is a great writer, too. When I first met him he had a songwriting deal with Alma/Irving. They were developing him to be an artist.

SB: Maybe that's why you like his drumming. He plays like an "artist".

DH: Well, like Charlie Watts, you have a guy who really respects the song and you can tell he's listening to the lyric and not covering anything up , you know, not being a show off but just supporting that song.

SB: As a singer that's what you want to hear behind you.

DH: Exactly. Park is a great drummer. I get to work with a lot great drummers here in Nashville. 

SB: Well, speaking of that, how did you become a "Nashville producer"?

DH: I started getting into gear when our frat band bought this crazy big PA and none of us had any idea how to hook it up. So, as my bandmates were driving the motor home I was in the back reading the Peavey and Alesis owner's manuals, and it was there I began to learn about crossovers, busses, and twitch flangers. Later, I followed my soon-to-be wife to Athens, GA, to finish college and after graduation I started interning with producer/ engineer John Keane.

SB: Oh! REM.

DH: Widespread Panic, Cowboy Junkies... a bunch of great bands.

SB: What did you do there?

DH: At John's studio I set up mics, answered the phone, fetched lunch, and read more owner's manuals, but, most importantly, I watched and listened. After a year or so it became clear that if I was going to be serious about making recording a career I was going to have to move to where the action was.

SB: Nashville!

DH: Nashville.

SB: So you just moved here and started looking for work?

DH: Once we moved here I picked up small engineer jobs and started to assemble a bit of gear in the guest bedroom. I also played cello with 4 or 5 local bands just trying to meet as many people in the music scene as possible. So, I began to recording some of these acts in my house, and then around Thanksgiving '97 I rented a crappy couple of rooms downtown between the Greyhound bus station and the homeless mission, and started "cranking out the indy hits". (laughs)

SB: Who are some of the drummers you record with here in town?

DH: Well, there's you. I've also had Craig Wright in a lot... I've had Paul Griffith... John Gardener came in and he was just fantastic. I've had people who are well known and I've had young guys. Tommy Perkinson is a great young player whom I've used. 

SB: Nice list.

DH: In Nashville you get spoiled because the drummers can play and yet, it's such a song writing town, the drummers aren't there to show off. They realize they are there to make the song sound great. They know their role. 

SB: What do you like from a drummer on a session?

DH: The drummers that impress me are the ones that walk that fine line between being assertive and even explosive at the right time, but who can also find the groove that supports the song. The great drummers always find the kick pattern that supports the vocals, they fill in the holes, they launch the bridge... they listen and they play appropriately.

SB: Is there a particular brand of drum you like?

DH: Well, I see a lot of vintage stuff in here. Lots of old Slingerlands, Ludwigs, Rogers... that or it's some hand made modern kit like yours. (San Francisco Drum Company) I hardly ever see new stuff like DW. And the kits tend to be smaller - two, maybe three toms.

SB: In Jim Reilley's interview he said a similar thing about the size of the drum set.

DH: If I see more than three toms I get worried, like, what's going on? Unless they are just trying different colors, but even then the good drummers will bring a lot of stuff and just set up a small kit. They might have other snares and toms, or even another bass drum, especially when you're making a whole record it's kind of fun to try out lots of different drums and cymbals so every track doesn't sound alike, but I rarely see someone set it all up at the same time.

SB: Is there anything drummers do that you hate?

DH: I'll tell you one thing that always set's me off. If the drummer sets the kit up with their cymbals so low that I can't get mics on the drums. That tells me right away that they don't know what they're doing.  Usually if the cymbals are that low it ends up being a difficult drummer to work with. 

SB: That's interesting.

DH: Having said that I like to use SM-57's on the toms and snare and they are long mics so you need a little more room. But still! A lot of people use smaller mics, like those EV 408's. And I think those are work really well, but I've had great luck with SM57's. They have a great presence. A 57 can get lots of low end on the toms.

SB: 57's are so common live. I didn't know they worked so well in the studio, too.

DH: You have to move them around the drum a little. If you get too close they can sound tubby and if they are too far out you lose the low end. You have to find the sweet spot.

SB: What about bass drum miking?

DH: I like an AKG D 112. With those you can stick it inside the drum if you want more of that bite, or back out and get a rounder tone.

SB: What about overheads? 

DH: Well, I've actually been using a Rode NT4 stereo mic. It's cheap but has a nice high end. It doesn't have a super wide stereo spread - it just kind of captures the breadth of the kit. 

SB: How do you position it?

DH: I try to position it so one cap is facing the crash over the rack tom and the other is pointing toward the ride cymbal, and then balance the level so that when you hit the snare it's the same on both channels. That seems to create a really nice balance between the cymbals and snare drum.

SB: Interesting.

DH: Other than that it's 57's on the snare and toms. I do use two small diaphragm Shure SM94's for under the snare and the hat. For the room I try all manner of different mics depending on the flavor of the project.  Sometimes ribbon mics, sometimes tube. Sometimes cheap ones. Then from the snake I go to my 70's era class A Studer 269 for mic pre's and EQ. I usually compress the snare and kick with a Drawmer 241 with the top and bottom snare channels bussed together. I love to commit. From there it's to some Apogee converters and then off to Pro Tools. 

SB: When it comes to cymbals, is there any special brand or size you prefer?

DH: Not really. I know what I like when I hear it, though. I love Sabians, Zildjians, all the traditional stuff. I think the biggest thing is for the cymbals to be the right pitch and weight for the song. And not too cute. 

SB: Cute?

DH: Ya, sometimes you want a china cymbal or a splash but if the song doesn't call for it put them away. Also, as I said earlier, I love when drummers change out their cymbals every so often to get some different colors.

SB: What advice would you give to a drummer who wants to get into sessions?

DH: Well, one thing I would recommend is to work on controlling your volume. It's usually more fun to PLAY loud music than it is to HEAR loud music, and many people tend to play loud all the time. I've worked with bands that get in the studio and find out they've been playing different chords at the same time and never noticed.

SB: And they been playing it that way for months!

DH: Yes. And they never knew because their shows were loud, their practices were loud, you know? I would say, work on sounding great at a lower volume. Everything sounds big and exciting when it's loud, but, as a drummer, if you can sound big and exciting at a lower volume that's saying something.

SB: What about playing to a click?

DH: I just think of the click as another musician. If you can't play to it it just means you're not listening, and if you're not listening you're not serving the song. It's critical to be able to play to a click. Whether or not you use it on every song is a question for the producer or artist, but you should be able to do it.

SB: I actually prefer to track to a click.

DH: Well, it creates a certain feel. It creates a sound, a stability. It makes for a smoother, slicker, pop sound. If you want your song to sound that way it's kind of the only way to go.

SB: And you can interchange tracks so easily.

DH: Ya! From an engineer's standpoint it's way better. If you you want to edit between different passes? Or if you are doing punch ins? Having a click assures the tempos are all the same between passes and makes editing so much easier. 

SB: Of course, protools makes recording easier too, huh?

DH: Definitely. One of the things I like about protools is that you don't have to record the drums first anymore. Now you can get the the arrangement and tempo set the way you want it, THEN add the drums. 

SB: That's a great benefit because it allows the drummer to hear how big the song will end up and can match its intensity easier.

DH: Yes. Instead of trying to imagine what the dynamics will be in the end and hoping you match the intensity.

SB: As technology continues to make new strides the question always comes up: Do you think drummers will ever become obsolete in the studio?

DH: There's no chance that drum machines will replace drummers in MY studio. Technology has its place in modern music but if you're looking for a track that breathes and has soul there's no question that you need a performance created by something with a heart rate and a habit. 

SB: HA!

DH: Really though, the brain gets bored with experiencing the same sound and delivery over and over again. Even if it's a static, repetitive part, a drummer playing the groove has a vitality that can't be created by ones and zeros.

SB: I agree. And you can't get Indian food with a computer program.

DH: And there's THAT!

SB: Thanks for taking the time to talk with me about drumming, David.

DH: My pleasure. Thank you.

Selected from his discography, this is David Henry...

... as a player.

Ben Folds

Butterfly Boucher

Def Leppard

Derek Webb

Garrison Star

Indigo Girls

Jars of Clay

Kasey Chambers

Mindy Smith

Over the Rhine

Steve Earle

Taylor Swift

Tim McGraw

Vic Chesnutt

...as a player and engineer. 

Cowboy Junkies

David Mead

Jill Sobule

The Pierces

Widespread Panic

Will Kimbrough

Yo La Tengo

...as a player, engineer and producer.

Guster

Josh Rouse

Matthew Ryan

Tommy Womack

Vienna Teng

...as an engineer.

R.E.M.

From the interview:

Brother Henry  - http://www.brotherhenry.com

Neil Young "Like A Hurricane"  - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Obfci1CIqq8&feature - neil young

Bruce Springsteen - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruce_Springsteen

Hot Rocks - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hot_Rocks_1964-1971

"Satisfaction" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MejtR81RzCo

"Can't Always Get What You Want" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0jyKabLHVc

John Keane - http://www.johnkeanestudios.com

SM57 - http://www.shure.com/ProAudio/Products/WiredMicrophones/us_pro_SM57-LC_content

EV 408 - http://www.bsu.edu/met/gobbledygook/cr/electrovoice/ev_nd408_info.html

AKG D 112 - http://www.akg.com/site/products/powerslave,id,261,nodeid,2,_language,EN,pid,261.html

Rode NT4 stereo mic - http://usa.rodemic.com/microphone.php?product=NT4

Shure SM94 - http://www.shure.com/ProAudio/Products/WiredMicrophones/us_pro_SM94-LC_content

Drawmer 241 Auto Compressor - http://www.drawmer.com/products/pro-series/dl241.php

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