Back in the cracked, sepia snapshots of childhood, my head was full of dreams of being a drummer. The very idea of being paid to hit stuff; to make a career of deafening people with a blur of arms, sticks, legs and feet in the pretence of rythmic accompaniment, was the pinnacle of any child’s expectation of life, career and absolute happiness.
..and what lessons did my parents usher me off to every week?
Well.. I did kinda like it a bit.. although I never quite got the hang of sight reading and not looking at my hands while I played.
I took those lessons and have never played more than a few jabbed notes in my adult (if you can call me that) life. I did however manage to strangle a song or two out of a guitar and even gigged round London venues for three years with a band whose music I still like (though boy does it sound dated now).
And now the drums. A friend of mine from a local Croydon band teaches drums on a Sunday to various kids, failed guitarists, bored office workers and the such-like and somehow, it sounded like I fitted into at least one of those categories.
So there I am every Sunday, clutching sweaty sticks, trying desperately to stamp on something whilst whacking something else and, all the while, thinking how bloody easy the guitar and piano were in comparison!!
Props to the drummers!