My new addiction

Dear Chairman and Ellen:

Thanks. Thanks for adding yet another addiction to my life. Is there a 12-step program for drummers?

For those of you unfamiliar, a while ago, I happened to mention to my dearest Chairman that I always wanted to play the drums. His response? His usual – so do it. Damn him. Then I met the fabulous Anna B., who also was learning to play drums. She had just sold hers but loved learning it. Then my neighbor, Steph, also said she was learning to drum as well.

The next time I saw Chairman, he said, “When we go see Piper Downs next, tell Ellen (fucking incredible Drummer Chick) that you want to play drums. See what she says.”

Ellen lost her mind. Chairman had told me that Ellen taught herself drums in six months so that she could play for her favorite band – the Piper Downs. And now she does. And she rocks. Rocks seriously hard. She is my hero.

So, the next time I saw Ellen, I told her I was thinking of learning how to drum. She said the same thing as Chairman – so do it. She offered me drumsticks and I turned her down, almost embarrassed to accept such a gift.

But then that stuck with me. If I had Ellen sticks, maybe I could do this. Silly, I know, but there it is. Chairman kept encouraging me, as did all of my close friends.

So, as you all know, when we saw Ellen and the Piper Downs at Citywalk, I asked Ellen for drumsticks. She excitedly complied, giving me a pair that had one bloody one from her enthusiastic playing that night.

I came home and drove my cat, Twyla, crazy by banging exuberantly on the oversized pillows around my house.

I have now spent the past couple of weeks banging on said pillows and anything else in the vicinity. I even took the drumsticks to San Diego this weekend, god knows why, but I did.

Today, I dove in. I stopped at Chad Sexton’s Drum City on Lankershim (drummer from 311, which would mean something if I knew more about music). I couldn’t help myself. I’m broke, don’t know how I’m going to pay my rent, yet here I was. I talked to a lovely clerk named Marty, who sold me a beginner book on drumming. Then a man named Richard (my life is fraught with irony) spent a great deal of time explaining different practice pads to me and what to look for in them, etc. Not a clerk at the store but a long time drummer. He then told me about a drum circle tonight at Remo Drums. If you don’t know Remo, they are premiere hand-drum makers. In fact, another irony, I designed and produced their first website waaaaay back in the early days of the web. He invited me to check out the drum circle. It’s free. How could I resist?

I parked at Remo at 6:10, a bit early but wasn’t sure how long it was going to take me to get there. Another lovely man, David, was getting out of his car and I asked about the drum circle. His enthusiasm got me very excited as he talked about how he loved coming here and it had been a while but he was glad to be back. Then he said, “I’ve been drumming about 15 years, been in a bunch of bands.” I almost bolted back to my car. He asked me how long I’d been drumming. I laughed and asked if it was possible to use a negative number. He assured me that there would be various levels at the circle and that it was not about how much experience you have, just how much fun you can have.

David was nice enough to show me around and told me to just pick a drum. I picked up a small hand-drum that you prop between your knees – a Doumbek. I took a seat as David grabbed a couple of big kettle drums and mallets. “I want to be heard,” he said. I was happy with my little drum.

The room quickly filled up, probably 50 or more, men, women, children, every race, every age. The beat began as soon as the first drum was set up and never stopped, even as I left. I was so intimidated by the first batch of people there because they obviously knew what they were doing. It’s a hand-drumming circle so there are few drums like I’m familiar with. But then Chris, the leader for the night, walked around and dropped various rhythm instruments around – tambourines, shakers, and, yes, the infamous cowbell. Soon, everyone had a rhythm going and I tentatively joined in, just doing something simple like finding the beat.

Soon enough, though, I found myself lost in the rhythm. Chris got us all going and kept changing up the rhythm and keeping everyone on track. He conducted the drum circle, moving the sound around and making it flow. I eventually forgot that I had to be perfect and just got caught up in the powerful sound of all of these drums and instruments combining to rattle my very soul. I closed my eyes and gave in to the primitive sense of sound that enveloped me.

The circle was over way too soon. The more professional of the group continued about a half hour after the circle was officially over and I hung around just to hear them. They were amazing. Eventually, though, the traditional flashing of the lights forced them to put their drums away and pack up. David came over and checked in on me to see if I had enjoyed myself. Richard also came up and checked in on me. They had huge compliments for each other and praised the fact that I didn’t give up and just jumped in. Then Chris, the leader, came over and introduced himself. He laughed and said he enjoyed the fact that I gave in and enjoyed myself. That’s what it’s about, he said. They all hoped I would come back next week.

I will. I also found a sheet that listed other drum circles, like the weekly one in Griffith Park Sundays from noon to sundown (gee, that’s right over there), one on Venice Beach Saturdays and Sundays from 2 till sundown, as well as various others. Oh, and there’s one on Saturday morning downtown at the Music Center. Free. Hmmmm, wonder where I’m going to be spending my time.

The greatest thing about this is that it’s something I have wanted to do ever since I was a kid. But drums are loud and clunky and hard to keep in an apartment. Even though I learned a bit about playing guitar (another addiction-to-be that Chairman is encouraging) and I played piano barely, drums have always fascinated me. I love the way they feel in my chest and my body. The echo of taiko drums especially amaze me. It’s primitive and it’s organic and it’s as base as you can get.

I drank it in tonight and cannot wait to go again. I think either Saturday or Sunday at Griffith Park may be in order this weekend or the Music Center. And I must, must, must drum on Venice Beach at sunset at some point. I was free tonight, I was loose and, I dare say, approaching unfettered. Okay, maybe not unfettered, but towards the end, I forgot that I had to be perfect, that I didn’t know what I was doing. I caught the rhythm, I caught the beat – albeit simplistically – and I came home and spent another hour banging away on my Remo practice pad from Chad’s Drum City.

I’m hooked. I’m addicted. I can’t get enough of it. I thought Ellen was nuts when she said she learned how to drum in six months. Until tonight, I didn’t think that was possible for me. I have since changed my mind. So, thank you, Ellen and Chairman, for giving me something else to tackle and accomplish and devote my life to.

After all, I can be a writer/director/producer/drummer, can’t I?