Released from the ground
Sick spattered walls washed and the guilty
Sent away
Country boys living in jet seats
Uniforms and injuries
Rhythm pushes the drone through new landscapes
Somewhere a troll charges toll
How we earn a whole new world
Subscribe,ransom, set up the pashas tent
Pick a muddy field, a closet, a men’s room
All these jobs posing as something else
Games are anything but
Jobs are anything but
Creating something with unseen goals
Employed to do one thing, making art on the side
Historians in stage blacks, selling memories and memorabilia
Our experience becomes the R&D for others
And the weaning process for our own future
Out the window, in the distance
The dancing lights of the lampago de catatumbo
Far off in time and space
Another planet, another heart
A soft silent sigh of shared song
The toxic fumes of man, of earth, of woman
Fly over state of your own history
Toll paid, troll fed, what to make, what to make
25 years is time for many buildings, children grown
Cars junked, canals cleaned, new streets for art and traffic
Still here, still wondering
Still more than a few steps behind what moves me
The push, the pull, looking in the wrong direction
Often gets the ire and the occasional perfect shot
When not obsessing over happiness or self destruction
Still writing about the lights on the hills
And the sound of wind and surf
The lines cross again and again
The words wash up on the sand
Or fall from the sky blessed and undiscussed
The fleeting lesson probably something simple
I yam what I yam and that’s all that I yam
Can I be content with that and sleep
And dream
And dream.
Waiting for the breakfast room to open
Gate slides wide and the people come out of the woodwork
European buffet brings all types around
Business men and Vacation groups
Sleepless roadies, liars
Families of the modern Muslim age
With women in different degrees of traditional garb
Hijab, leggings, long sleeve shirt
Subtle patterned scarves
Dark top to bottom Jilbab
Sometimes simple jeans
Designer sunglasses on their covered heads
The men less traditional, almost slovenly
Shorts, untucked shirts, baseball caps
Could be road crew without the family in tow
The children, vacation casual
Polo shirts and Bermudas
Then throw in an Italian fashion plate business women
And she looks like a porno star
Parading her snug ensemble and gold frames
Confident with what the lord gave her
The cream jacketed staff hovers, practicing the few English phrases that they’ve been served
Cued by the fat, the blatant appearance
Managers circling, steering, glad to have busboys to correct
Back to the wall, all the little dances are visible
The initial seat fine until a wife finds fault
With ventilation or sunshine
Businessmen who give the better seat to their luggage
Daughters following mothers like toilet paper on a shoe
Old couples filling remaining days, making up for wasted ones now that the clock ticks louder
To hide behind a bush
Ziplock full of Splenda & green sauce
The endless ferry of espresso
Eyes casing the room
Strange pleasure draped over
The tired bruised body
And the destructive default mind.
I woke up this morning thinking about how loss changes with age in many ways. What was once unthinkable for a young person has become acceptable; the levels in between are interesting progressions from one end of the spectrum to the other. This is triggered by the news of Clarence Clemons passing away last evening, after a very serious stroke knocked him down one last time. The sense of loss was different from losing Danny or even my brother Sam. I think it is because of my own aging and actually having been in the process of grieving in the past 6 years or so.
I’m gonna elaborate a little on the first idea. As a child the thought of a friend or a relative being gone forever starts off as not even a possibility. You have forever and they are ten feet tall and bulletproof. As feelings and emotions develop the concept intensifies. Not only for those close to you but the odd connection to celebrity, an emotional closeness created by media or art. People are very different in how they process and carry these losses, bearing them like full-sized monuments tied to their backs or stuffing the grief inside, the venom oozing out of the person in other forms. This is not to say that the loss of a child, a sibling, a parent, a spouse is not a major and consuming thing; it can alter your whole life with or without some proper handling.
I often wondered what else people are grieving when they become immobilized by the loss of a celebrity or an outright stranger, their only connection through the TV or media outlet. I tend to vacillate between thinking I am partially sociopathic or they are drama hungry, feeding on the sadness like the thirsty drinking tears. Could the bond created by a single song or a repeated sequence of still photos from a tabloid news show make an authentic connection or does it represent something else? Marilyn Monroe,Elvis, John Lennon, Princess Di… they were big but became bigger with the death cults, martyrs for something missing in everyone’s everyday life. Better to focus on that than 100,000 unseen victims in a far off war or a second cousin withering away in a hospital room. The fear of being close to it, like you could catch it, easier to manage with the patron saints and their merchandise.
shot by Jo Lopez
As I approach 50 rapidly, the emails come more often and find myself thinking of Facebook as “Deathbook”, the speed and frequency of the obits increasing. I visit my parents and older relatives, hear stories of being sick for months, see the oxygen tanks, the slowing down. For those who suffer, often for a long time, the end is actually leaning more towards welcome than not. When I began working with the ESB in 2002, Clarence had physical ailments which required him to prepare mentally, physically and spiritually before every show. His knees, his hips, his back, they were all a mess. He was in pain so much of the time. The toll on that massive frame radiated off of him. It didn’t get any easier between then and the last-go-round. You could see that pain in his big beautiful eyes but very little would slip ungrateful from his lip in front of us. He was an incredible example of love and spirit persisting when the body had no business carrying on.
So, I guess this little post is about the path between denial and acceptance. Beginning with death not existing and ending with it being the only conclusion, the act of growing up and letting go of these temporal temporary bodies, it always has been what we made of the time between the beginning and the end. In the Middle Ages, Sunday was put aside for church and the idea that things would be better in the afterlife, because life was so hard for so many. Many philosophies focus on being in the moment, the act of finding “heaven on earth”. As a pretty typical human being shifting between the selfish “woe-is-me” headspace and the slivered moments of Eden found in a flower pushing through the concrete, time lately has been on my side.
I don’t want my friends to go but they’re gonna. I don’t want anyone to truly suffer but some will. Some defy the odds and others are struck down by space debris. Nobody gets out of here alive.
The lessons that those who have gone before left us are still here, good and bad. It’s our job to share them, keep the memories alive and hope that someone else gains something from these people who no longer walk the earth. Lessons about passion and sharing, selfishness and self-destruction, creating and destroying. Like road signs or myths, they can guide another generation to choose between doing something while they’re here or rushing headlong into the abyss, dragging the innocent along with them.
After the last breath, it’s up to those remaining to let go. What we let go of, well, is up to us. I hope that those who suffered in life are released once they cross the threshold. Perhaps the thought of that can give us peace even if we’re not in the Middle Ages. Perhaps we can find the grace to live a better life by holding the memory of our fallen Blood Brothers close to our hearts.
In my last post, I drew a line between Indian classical music through Miles to Misha Mansoor. Yeah, I’m still trying to decide if that was a good idea considering the response. Well, I knew it was a narrow rabbit hole I was going down. I’m gonna go tighter in some crazy idea that it will become even more universal. I threatened to talk about drummers and by God, that’s what I’m gonna do.
Drums are a very primitive, cellular-level thing. Because of the initial rhythm-based nature, they were used for communication in early times, for synchronization still (think marching) and truly social interaction (dancing). Hand drumming has evolved to complex drum kits that use all limbs, hardware, sticks, mallets, electronics and computers. The truly remarkable technology is not in hardware but in the evolution of human software. The ability for a human to use 4 limbs, both in sync or independently, with an interactive layer in realtime is pushing beyond imagined possibility 20 years ago. The technical aspect of creating the physical coordination and power has to be connected to the mental processing of the math involved as well as the intangible “musical” element in the interaction with other performers. The use of memory (the drum parts), interaction (listening, reacting) and execution (movement and coordination) can be more than just “keepin’ a beat”.
Drummers have been the brunt of jokes probably for as long as logs have been hollowed out or skins stretched; yet some of the world’s greatest musicians also turn out to be good drummers. Michael Brecker, Chick Corea, Stevie Wonder, Jan Hammer… they all could play and usually insisted on having great drummers in their bands. To me it added to the way they composed and arranged their songs, the rhythms natural and weaved deep. Check out how a guitarist/pianist like Ralph Towner or Mike Keneally brings a unique voice to their other instrument. The jokes often tell of how the band is comprised of “4 musicians..and a drummer”; this is not always true.
Heavy music created some interesting challenges for the percussive; the tempos and aggression that came with the music require certain shifts in order to play. The physicality of drumming can be obvious; just watch Animal on the Muppets. It’s often like a long distance race combined with a mixed martial arts match that lasts a few hours. Drummers have to build extreme endurance into their ability for heavy music. When a band is coming up, they can get used to playing a 30 or 40 minute opening set, their energy expended in one furious burst. When they shift to headlining I’ve seen whole bands totally flatten out after the 50 minute mark and poop out before the hour.
Faster is often done by playing lighter; will the music lose its force and energy? The speed also will cause drummers to simplify parts just out of economy or ability. What else will suffer from the nature of the music? Many subtleties are lost; sometimes the simpler pats make it easier for the rest of the band to play and for the audience to listen. There is always someone stronger, faster and hungrier coming up behind you. What will this next generation of drummers be able to do?
Throughout my working career I have been on the lookout for the up and comers, not only because of my enjoyment of their playing but to see where drumming is going. I started out as a drummer and something happened to me in my early 20’s that stopped me from pursuing that dream I began at 13. I always referred to it as a dosing of a flame, a part of me that no longer burned. I didn’t have the natural gifts or the discipline needed to get to the next level. I heard something in my head that my hands and feet couldn’t do. I decided to watch closely as others tried and to help them get there if I could.
Working with Vinnie early in my career was like space exploration; there seemed to be no bounds to his ability or imagination. There are people who you work with that you learn their go-to licks, their fall backs; I never ever in 2 years got to that point. Bruce Carter’s groove was a force of nature that in another setting away from Kenny G may have been more appreciated. Steve Gadd revolutionized the modern drum kit and I was able to see him on and off over 20 years finesse, groove and play his way through every song put in front of him. So many of the next generation seemed like younger versions with a little more horsepower and little else; who would step up?
Seeing someone like Mike Mangini with Steve Vai was a clue. Toss Panos and Joe Travers came from the Zappa school, fiery and chops to burn. Abe Laboriel Jr. brought power and an open lope to both fusion and pop. Dennis Leeflang from the Netherlands makes great records with Bumblefoot. Björn Fryklund from the Swedish band Freak Kitchen, blends metal and fusion well.
Heavy drummers like Tomas Haake (Meshuggah) and Gene Hoglan (Devin Townsend, Dark Angel, Death, Dethklok, Strapping Young Lad,Testament,Fear Factory)showed up on my radar in the mid-90’s and I was like “Is this possible?” Where heavy extended into programming and samples, I was really never quite sure what was real, until I saw it with my own eyes. Even Terry Bozzio, in the last phase of Missing Persons, programmed “Rhyme and Reason” rather than going through the expense of recording the drums live. I had no question he could play his parts; it seemed like simple economics to me, not cheating.
The past few years touring with a few new support acts every few weeks I have seen some really good drummers who I wasn’t clued in on, either because I didn’t like the general style or sound of their band or just was never exposed to them before. Chris Adler from Lamb of God and Mario Duplantier with Gojira come to mind immediately. Igor Cavalera, from Sepultura originally and now with the Calavera Conspiracy,was finding ways to blend metal and Brazilian drumming into heavy music.
A few weeks ago I was exposed to Navene Koperweis, currently with Animals As Leaders and Matt Halpern with Periphery. This was a leap, like Gene and Tomas, just beyond what I expected. I came to find out that Misha Mansoor (remember him?) started out as a drummer and programmed the drums for both the initial Periphery tracks and the Animals As Leaders album, both of which he produced. Programming drums can be tricky, despite what people might think.
The programmer has to think drumistically, which, as a semi-made up word means to be done in a drum-like way. You can have all the crazy ideas you want but it tends to sound better if it is arranged the way a drummer might (or could) play it. I mentioned guitarist/pianists earlier; have you ever heard a synthetic guitar part that just doesn’t jibe? It’s usually because a keyboard player has voiced it in a keyboard way. If you voice it as a guitar player would, it sounds more natural. A great example of that is Dave Grusin playing the classical guitar parts on a synth for songs from “The Milagro Beanfield War“. Grusin’s voicings are in chord shapes a guitarist would play. When Pepe Romero played the parts in the movie soundtrack, it’s as the composer wrote them, despite being a pianist.
The same goes for drums, even if they are not chordal. There are voices limb to limb and register to register. Perhaps the bass drum parts are locked with the bass guitar part. The cymbals accent the hits the rhythm guitar part. The hi hat drives the groove and the snare dances between pulse and the accents. It this is totally ignored the parts can sound like machines that the band happen to be playing along with, not a part of the composition or the band. Nit picky muso stuff? Maybe, but even the average listener can hear something’s off.
The music from both of these albums are rather complex and for a drummer, physically challenging. To learn music like this it would help to read music (if it was ever written out; a drummer who can transcribe the parts either traditionally or in his own way would be better off) or to have the ability to learn by ear. The fact that Misha on a level thinks and programs like a drummer make the feat a lot more natural.
Periphery has vocals and lyrics imposed over the dense wave of each song. They have a talented singer who both can both bellow and croon over a song. Misha released a version of their debut release as an instrumental as well, removing the vocal tracks and remixing it (I’m just guessing here, but it sure seems that way). I prefer this version as my attraction to the music is the craft and production of guitars, drums and atmospherics. I go back and forth between the albums but listen to the vocal free one much more. Animals As Leaders is an instrumental band, a trio with 2 guitars and drums. Thanks to YouTube, you can see a few examples of how these young musicians are accomplishing this music live.
I have spent a long time working in the live music business and rarely get excited by “baby” bands or the unknown support act. Honestly, taking the time to focus on them within a work day can distract me from my duties, which can be bad. This stuff has just cut through that professional filter and sent me into Fan-Land. Sure, I get a chance to sneak away and stand behind Gene Hoglan or Dave Lombardo until my remaining hair is on fire but those treats are few and far between.
These two young drummers have jumped out immediately not only for their abilities but because of the music they are performing. It’s not typical shredophilia or Scream-o rock; it contains elements of its lineage and pushes the line forward a ways. Navene is also a guitar player as his project Fleshwrought shows. Matt from Periphery repeats that “groove” is really important to him. Both men play on small kits with big results; Navene’s kit is a 4 piece while Matt plays a 3 piece (kick, snare, floor).The focus on double kick is not only a genre thing but the act of locking with the complex rhythms with traditional voicings. There is not much room for anything else!
All that said, here’s a pair of guys who are going to be the influencers of the next “next” generation along with the others I mentioned. They make their place in the music exciting, cool and different from previous players. They deserve a listen. Besides, it’s more than likely that an old fart like me is telling kids old news and there are others already who are coming up behind that I’m too lame to have heard of yet.
UPDATE: I could have spent another month writing this, as I knew I was gonna leave some people out who deserved to be mentioned. Yes Mom, you’re one of them, though Russ Kunkel didn’t shred much in those days. First would be Charlie Benante, who I just met with the Big 4 shows we’ve done and Mike Portnoy , who I finally met in Indio. They need to be mentioned in this article with their direct influence on Thrash and Progressive. Richie Hayward, Charley Drayton, Simon Phillips, Bill Bruford and even ex-drummer Phil Collins should be included. Check back in another week and I bet you see some more names!!!
