A quick note

Monday was the highest point of both my life and my career so far.  Since the two are magically held together with Music, the highs and lows of one always correspond to the other.  I want to talk all about it but haven't had the time to sit down and write it all out.  I will, however, give you two points:

First, last week was terrible (as you can see from reading my entries about breaking points and Victoria Asher).  This week was amazing, exclusively due to Music.  Next time I feel so down, I'll have to remember that as my beautiful sister Jen says, "Life is a crazy parade."

Second, I was asked last Saturday after stepping off the stage, if I enjoyed playing the drums.  Anyone who's ever seen me play knows the answer to this, or so I thought.  In any event, people match their instrument.  Most trombonists are intelligent, most french-horn players are unique and most trumpeters have a fantastic sense of humour.  If I had my way, I'd love to play a flute based on it's size compared to a drum set but I'm not a flutist, I'm a drummer.  The drums are my most direct connection to Music.  They are the building blocks for the bridge to Music as well as the shoes that let me dance with and mold Music.

To answer the question: yes, I enjoy playing the drums.  More importantly, they allow me to expand.  They help me excavate the energy of my surroundings and reshape it into whatever I choose.  There is no other instrument or method of communication that would allow me to express myself so fundamentally.  They are dynamic and beautiful and deeply rooted in human history.  But above all else, I love the drums because they chose me.

Shhhhhh! Quiet Please.

Although he doesn't know it and would never admit it, my father hears the truth.  He doesn't hear what he wants to, he hears precisely what is there.  Cold, exact, brilliant, powerful; he would be great in a recording studio.

On Saturday, I recorded drum tracks for six songs at KMA studios on 49th street and Broadway in Manhattan.  The equipment was somewhere in the Nasa-quality range, and the studio itself would have James Bond's approval for the combination of elegance and functionality.  A friend knew the owner which meant that since they had no one scheduled for the afternoon, we were allowed an eight hour session, typically priced at a modest $1,500, for free.

When you have seventeen microphones recording a small drumset, there are no unnoticed mistakes.  No smoothing things over.  No lying.  If you play the entire song ahead of the beat but then drop behind it for two measures, you'll hear it clear as crystal.  For the non-music inclined we're talking about milliseconds of temporal shift.  Sounds intimidating but this is a musician's dream: to spend the entire day hearing your mistakes and learning from them and correcting them.  To realize that your bordem during a song will drastically shift your energy and when you don't make conscious decisions about which notes to play, it's as obvious as an orator who's mixed up their index cards!  I was blown away at how clear and objective it all was.

But my playing was not the only 'naked' thing in the room.  The kid at the helm was a nice guy and a hard worker, but as I said already, milliseconds stick out.  Maybe it was the way he set up one of the microphones.  Or his voice over the intercom.  Maybe it was his answer to the question, "Where are you from? Where'd you go to College?"  For whatever reason, in the room without any distractions, I knew exactly who he was, how old he was, how competant he was at his job.  What if your brain operated like a recording studio?  Would you be able to read people without bias and give them honest answers in return?

And how about all those buttons!  10,000 settings and thirty microphones can't disguise a poorly written song.  I was amazed at how much time we spent moving a small microphone around the bass drum.  Was the same amount of time spent working out the chorus?  Some of the most amazing songs in history were recorded with four microphones and almost no effects.  The effects should be used to sell the song.  Make sure your product matches your salesmanship.

Being in the studio felt right.  I've already said it was quiet.  It forced me to look at my playing and the songs we worked on through an untainted lense.  It made me think of my father and how he knows when someone is bullshitting (and let's them know).  Most importantly, it made me listen.