Brian Doherty

Keep It Simple/1.4/Slow Drum Loop by Brian Doherty/www.briandoherty.net by Briandoherty

What Do You Think?

There is great irony in a songwriter relying heavily on a drummer, thus minimizing their role in the creation of their own tunes. But that’s what I witnessed when working with many singer/songwriters in the 1990’s.  I wonder, to what degree did Gershwin, Beethoven, Hamlish and other notable composers, rely on their drummers/percussionists for the principal ideas of their music?  My guess is not much at all.  Yet, time and time again, I’d work with singer/songwriters who had no clear vision of arrangement, counter melodies, harmonies or orchestration for their own work.  In some instances, the easiest element on which to offer input or suggestions, was the rhythm part.  For a drummer, this could be a nightmare.

Why The Fuss?

Sometime in the 1990’s, I was talking with engineer/producer John Sickett at a recording session in Hoboken, NJ.  As usual, our conversation centered around the state of the music business, note-worthy new bands and the projects in which we were currently involved.  This particular day, we also discussed the current glut of singer/songwriters in the New York area.  There was a tidal wave of emerging artists going solo, pedaling their songs in an attempt to get signed to a major record label.  I knew this first-hand because I’d been hired by dozens of them for gigs and recordings.  “You know, they gotta move away from the beat and get back to the song“, John complained, referring to the current state of songwriting craft.  His statement hit me hard.  As a matter of fact, in my opinion, most singer/songwriters overly obsessed about the beat and groove, while ignoring the real meat and potatoes of their work; the lyrics, arrangement, orchestration, melody, harmony, etc.  However, it wasn’t just the overall groove they dwelled upon, but the physical appearance of the drummer as well.  Why the fuss?

Credit Where It’s Due

In those days, the standard approach to fleshing out a song would begin with the writer and musicians assembled in a rehearsal room.  The singer/songwriter would usually play their song on a guitar.  I’m not sure if you can relate to this, but there was almost a standard singer/songwriter guitar rhythm those days.  I describe it as strummed 16th notes with Charleston-like accents on beats one, “an” of two, and four.  If you need an aural example, check out that song Breakfast at Tiffany’s.  This pattern  was a song-killer.  Rhythmically speaking, it was too active and did not allow for spaces (which are crucial components of a comprehensive rhythm arrangement).  After the initial listen, I would ask questions of the writer, including what mood they wished to convey, or if they could refer to a popular song as a model in this instance.  The answers to these questions would give us a framework in which to proceed.  Often, however, the answers were vague and incomplete, leaving us painstaking guesswork, or the process of musical trial and error.  Other tasks ahead of us were to determine rhythm section parts, arrangements, orchestrations, dynamics, kick drum patterns, etc.  The subtext of this situation was usually, “I’m not really sure what should be played in this spot, but what would you guys play here?”, allowing the artist to choose from  a smorgasbord of possibilities, before rendering any musical decision.  Afterwards, when an initial draft was completed, the singer/song “writer” would usually capture the musicians performance by recording it during the rehearsal, thereby claiming ownership of the tune as its sole creator.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that all the musicians involved in this process were contributing to the creation of the composition in some way.  Hence, it is my belief that contributing musicians should get commensurate writing credit, and financial remuneration, in this situation.

Eenie Meenie

Needless to say, I wasn’t the only drummer helping singer/songwriters in this manner.  As a matter of fact, in the mid-90’s, it seemed that singer/songwriters were becoming increasingly picky about their drummers, as they had an abundance of eager, hungry and affordable tub-thumpers from which to choose; a virtual menu of electronic and traditional drummers, if you will.  It was apparent that the drummer’s physical look and style was a factor too.  There were drummers who wore hats (mostly to cover a bald spot), dressed in costume for a “look”, or spoke in an affected accent, way out of the bounds of their natural dialect.  (There was one hat-wearing drummer from the Mid-West suburbs who put on an accent and dialect as if he was raised in the Southern Baptist Church).  There were theatrical drummers who twirled sticks or played standing up.  There were the worldly drummers who employed more exotic percussion.  These guys would have ethnic drums, frame drums, djembes or vintage percussion in their set up.  Sometimes they wore an African dashiki to express their inner ethnicity.

What A Bargain

In any event, singer/songwriters always got the better end of the stick.  Always dangling the carrot of later, greater success, they’d become agitated when negotiating terms with musicians, weaving in teasers about the promising future of the project, the immanent record deal, or the numerous industry executives coming to the next gig.  As a bargaining blockade, they would sometimes accuse their musicians of being mercenaries.  Ouch! Try that with your plumber, dentist, or store clerk when it’s time to pay your next bill.  Let me know how that works out.

Exposed

Yet, when things went less than perfect, or the flaws of the artist’s work were exposed, guess which musician would get the blame first?  “Did we play the song this slow last time? What happened to that drum fill you used to play in that part? You didn’t play this loud in rehearsal. Is that the drum kit you use on your other gigs? Did you count off the song at the right tempo? My old drummer always set up a conga drum with his kit.  Why don’t you bring a shaker or maracas to the next gig?” I could go on and on here.  My point is that the artist would say anything EXCEPT, “This song needs to be reworked”, or “I need to come up with a better arrangement for this section”, or “The tempo is too fast for the lyric, so I’ve decided to slow it down”, and so on.  In addition, I NEVER heard an artist declare, “This song sucks and is officially cut from our set list. Self-reflection and evaluation of this magnitude was an uncommon attribute in these cases, unfortunately.

Cream of The Crop

To be fair, the singer/songwriters I’m describing for this disussion, were the Bleeker Street, solo breed I observed or encountered in the 1990’s.  If you were an active musician during that period, had a pulse, and lived within 100 miles of the Big Apple, I’ll bet you experienced some of this stuff first hand.  Happily, I can tell you that I worked with a few incredibly gifted artists from this scene as well.  One was Joy Askew.  An amazing singer, writer and musician who had previously worked with Peter Gabriel, Joe Jackson and Laurie Anderson, among many others.  Another was Hub Moore, a heart-felt lyricist and a expert at the craft of songwriting.  Also, there was Ben Folds.  Ben, bassist Tom Spagnardi, and I worked on songs in the basement of my Jersey City brownstone, and then showcased them at The Bitter End and Sine.  It was at a Sine gig that Ben was discovered by the guy who would be his business manager for many years.

The Silver Lining

Most of the songs, by the Bleeker Street artists I experienced, fell short in many ways.  Since I did quite a bit of work in this regard, I found it necessary to make the best of situations–somewhat of a “polisher”, so to speak.  As bad as this may sound, there was a wonderful silver lining.  In fact, there was no better on-the-job-training for a young drummer, in my opinion.  It was making music against all odds, like swimming upstream, jogging with ankle weights or breathing through a straw for long periods of time.  By the time you got to the artists with well-written tunes, played by an ensemble of ace musicians, it was as refreshing as a cool breeze on a hot summer day.

Part 1 of this series can be read here.

The Pitch:

How My Passion for Rock ‘N’ Roll Led Me to RCA Records and a Career in Teaching.

Part 1

Something’s Gotta Give

I was at a pivotal point in my life.  On one hand I could make improvements and climb up the ladder.  On the other, I could fall off the steep ledge into ruin.  There was no in-between.  I was sitting alone in the Manhattan office of RCA Records President, Bob Jamieson.  On the wall hung photos of him holding prize catches on fishing trips, on family vacations, and at a podium accepting an award.  Another wall was devoted to gold records and autographed pictures of well known entertainers.  I wiped the sweat from my upper lip and rehearsed my pitch internally once again.  The devil on my right shoulder whispered, “What are you doing here?” The angel on my left cheered, “You deserve this meeting.  DO NOT fall apart now!” There was activity outside the door.  In walked a 50-something-year-old man resembling a robust William Buckley.  He had a look that suggested weekends were well spent in the Hamptons or on the yacht.

Two months earlier I had the realization that my career was down the toilet.  Although it had been declining, I had refused to acknowledge it and was in denial.  I wasn’t getting any gigs, and my stack of bills was no longer manageable.  Few things are worse for a self-employed musician than to have the sign of desperation stamped on his forehead.  I spent weeks working the phone, checking in with my contacts and associates.  There were a few close calls that didn’t pan out, including an audition to replace Bill Berry in R.E.M.  I pleaded for help from my network, but nothing came my way.  “Hey, weren’t you the drummer for They Must Be Giants?” a few people would ask. “What happened, Dude?” The truth was that I was slowly going broke playing with They Might Be Giants (the subject of another story).  The bell tolled.  It was time to wake up.

I went to the library for answers and read career, self help and business books.  In many books, a recurring piece of advice was that one should brainstorm ways to help and improve a certain business.  If you could help individuals in that business overcome their problems and hurdles, you’d be valuable to that industry.  This made sense to me.  Besides, what else did I have to go on?  “Who could I help, and how could I help them?” I took these questions seriously and embraced the advice I received.  “Something’s gotta give, man!” I thought in desparation.  Soon, I came up with a plan of action and drafted a letter.

Part 2

The President Will See You Now

The only thing I’ve ever been passionate about, or considered myself a real expert in, was music.  I spent years ingesting every Rock ‘N’ Roll lyric, drum beat, arrangement, orchestration and production technique I could get my hands on.  Later I studied music more formally spending seven years at a music conservatory called The Manhattan School of Music; two years of high school, four of undergraduate and one of graduate.  Afterward, I continued my schooling at The NYC School of Hard Knocks, The Institute of Kick Your Ass and The University of Had Enough Yet? In general, I was an excellent student.  I worked hard, laid ground work and patiently waited for the faucet to flow freely.  Mostly, it trickled.

The phone rang.  “Hello.  Is this Brian?  Hi, this is Claudette from The Bertlesman Music Group (BMG).  We received your proposal letter, and we are eager to talk about it with you.” Jesus!  BMG was a multi-national music corporation that included RCA, Jive and Zomba records, as well as a myriad of music publishing companies and related industries.  Indeed, it owned the entire catalogue of Elvis recordings.  She continued, “Unfortunately Klaus, our CEO won’t be in New York next week, so he asked if you could meet with the President of RCA Records, Bob Jamieson instead.  Is that OK?” Was that OK? I just hit the jackpot!  Finally, my ideas would be validated by someone of importance in the music industry.  “Klaus wants you to know that he’s excited about your proposal and hopes that you could bring Bob up to speed, so that we could move forward together.”

Those days I played the role of a slacker-musician, wearing shorts most of the year and driving my old truck around Woodstock.  In my business as a freelance musician, I was missing the mark and wasn’t evolving much.  I was often too eager and my immaturity was pervasive.  Always prepared with a crude joke or a toxic fart, I once sent producer Neil Dorfsman into a fit of rage after releasing my “music” in the control room of The Hit Factory.  Ironically, however, I did some of my best work during this period, playing on dozens of recordings, writing songs and producing other artists.  In many ways, transitioning to a position at a record company made sense to me.  After all, I had real-world experience in the music business. Perhaps, it was time to evolve a bit and take it to the next level.

I documented my best business ideas in a detailed letter that I drafted to all of the major record labels.  RCA was the first to respond.  On the day of my RCA meeting, I arrived early and killed time by walking around the block a few times.  On my final loop, some sisters sitting on a bench shouted my way, “Oh shoot, there’s Pauly Shore!  No, he look like Kenny G!!!” It was time to go.  I headed for the corporate offices of BMG Music at 1540 Broadway, my heart racing as I signed in with security.

Part 3

Return To Rock!

One day I’m going to write a business book.  It will be a best seller for the simple reason that I know absolutely nothing about the subject. In addition, I’ve made every mistake imaginable regarding my own business affairs.  I’ve had hair-brained schemes about owning a record label, a production and publishing company, music schools, or about publishing an industry sourcebook.  The fact was, that as a musician-for-hire, it was enough of a struggle simply staying in business, let alone making attempts to dominate related fields. That’s why I think my book would be a best seller.  I’d discuss my various business blunders, and then have real experts explain to the reader what I should have done instead.

While we’re at it, allow me share some of my other music biz “revelations” that have gotten me nowhere:

If you have a catchy Holiday song, you’ll be set for life. For instance, who’s every heard of the band The Waitresses, except for when their song Christmas Wrapping hammers you every season? Money in the bank, year after year.

If you can’t sing, have someone else record your songs. You’ll make a mint in publishing.  Just look at Paul Williams, Jimmy Webb and Chip Taylor (Wild Thing and Angel of The Morning).

If you can’t write your own songs, record something that’s in the public domain. “I’ve Been Working On The Railroad” and certain children’s melodies are not owned by any writer, which means you do not have to share your profits.

Part 4

But I digress…

Back to the story of my pitch to RCA circa 1998.  Generally, my idea was to help major record companies earn greater profits over the long term.  At the time, for example, it may have been true that money was made on an INXS or Counting Crows recording.  However, I would assume that more money per year was generated by sales of Hotel California by The Eagles, or Back In Black by AC/DC.  It seemed that RCA was only interested in short-term profits, by bands that everyone has since forgotten.  To put it another way, let’s assume that Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of The Moon sells an average of 400,000 units per year.  Let’s also assume that it’s been in circulation for about 37 years.  So, 400,000 units X 37 years = 14,800,000 units.  I’d say that my estimate is conservative and that it’s likely to be much more.  The research I conducted showed that this album was on the Billboard charts for 1,500 weeks and still sells about 9,000 units a week to this day. In addition, I doubt that, outside of the first year, there was much advertising or promotion costs associated with these figures, so it continues to be a direct pipeline to pure profit.  If this is true, why would a record label spend money and resources on a band that would sell only a fraction of these figures?  It seems that they would want to invest in producing music that would become the staple of the future.  This brings me to the second tenant of my pitch…

In the late ’90s I learned that the reunion tour of The Grand Funk Railroad was one of the largest money making tours of all time.  This made sense to me.  In the 90’s, record labels were soley focused on a younger market.  Bands like Nirvana and other grunge acts consumed the business, while MTV entirely stopped showing music videos in favor of bikini contests.  But, while this was happening, where was the new product for the legions of Bob Seger, AC/DC, Rush, Allman Brothers Band or ZZ Top fans?  There were millions of music fans who had no choice for any new bands and instead could only buy remastered editions, for example, of an old Def Leopard album.  Do you get what I mean?  Where did these fans go and what did they spend there money on? In my opinion, many of them turned to Country music; a genre that welcomed them and their wallets with open arms.  Country music has since become the new “staple” and in my opinion has filled the Classic Rock void.  Wisely, Country music dialed in a bit more Rock ‘N’ Roll to oblige.  Smart move!

Part 5

Silly Me

With the above in mind, here’s my theory and the essential points of my pitch:

• Record labels invest in genuinely creative acts (like Pink Floyd and The Doors) who produce quality products, which then generate billions of dollars. This type of music becomes the industry standard for the Rock genre as well as for generations of Rock fans.

• The aforementioned “standards” so easily generates money year-after-year, that the music industry has the ability to focus on developing new artists.  However, it rarely operates outside the proven revenue generators of the past.

• In the 80’s, industry returns skyrocket when formats change from LP to CD.  The lesson to the executives?  “The more I sit back and relax, the more money I make!”

• Next, major labels get fat and lazy, like well-fed pigeons in a park. They forget their core A & R values and focus only on the easy, short-term money.  In part, they accomplish this by spending money on marketing and advertising (Remember Vanilla Ice, Millie Vanilli and CMC Music Factory?)  It was easier for the business to pedal the junk they already had and jam it down the throat of the consumer.  Creatively speaking, they were only interested in music that was cheaply produced.

• In the meantime, the industry ignores bands like Dave Matthews and Phish. These bands generate millions of dollars for live performances–money that bypasses the record company and goes directly into pockets of the artists.

• This “game change” of marketing music “product” and producing cheap music may work for a while, but it will never exceed the sales of music based on the talent and cultivation of musicians and songwriters like Dylan, Elvis, Beatles, U2, Eagles, AC/DC, and other standard artists.

• This new process also stiff-arms the 30 and over audience, who’ve since found comfort in the “new” country music.

Hey, but I’m the guy with no business background.  Silly me.

Part 6

Meat and Potatoes

The pitch I delivered seemed simple enough.  Here were my notes:

• Return to classic A & R practices by scouting and cultivating gifted artists and bands in the classic Rock ‘N Roll genre.  In other words, follow the same process that yielded The Dead, Lynard Skynard, Cream, Buffalo Springfield, YES and the like.
• This cohort would carry on the “new” standards of Rock music.
• Work to develop their music over a long period of time (think of the many albums Bonnie Raitt produced before having success).  In other words, stick with the artist and allow room for some failure.
• My proposed musical model would be Classic Rock of the 70’s and 80’s.  My expectations would be that songs by these newer bands would satisfy the older, say, AC/DC fan, and would be Classic Rock radio friendly. In fact, these stations could play these new songs today among the many other classics on currently on their playlist.

(The only band that I can think of that even came close to achieving what I describe was The Black Crows.  It was brilliant when they collaborated with Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin.  I believe it appealed to the disenfranchised listeners that I discussed earlier, converting them into Black Crows fans forever. All they did was tap into the Classic Rock pipeline.)

• Finally, according to the design of the pitch, I would be the one to clarify the business model and implement it for the record company.

To Prove a Point

It seems like radio formats go through cycles rather quickly.  The Smooth Jazz station turns to Alternative Rock seemingly overnight.  The Lite FM station to 24 Hour Sports, and so on.  The only genre that’s consistent is Classic Rock.  For example, try the following on your next road trip: As you flip through the stations notice the variety in every radio market.  Now, find the classic rock station in each market.  I guarantee that it’ll be prominent on the dial and easy to tune in.  To me, this means that there are plenty of people listening and that there is a great demand.  You’ll rarely hear a new song from a new band.  You may also notice that these classic rock stations play the same stuff, over and over.  In terms of my pitch, this meant that the business had abandoned a large market.  Like a grocery store selling the same line of food year after year, because the people used to like it.  Instead, why not, give them something “new and improved” and still sell the classics?  Perhaps the new line of product will even become the staple of the future!

Part 7

Don’t Let The Door…

In preparation for my impending meeting, I asked RCA to send me information and recent releases. Soon, a package arrived containing recordings of newly-signed bands, lists of current tours, and a breakdown of on-going projects.  I studied and listened.  Those days, RCA was rudderless and seemingly, had no interest in Rock ‘N’ Roll.  I had been in an RCA band years earlier and personally felt that the company was asleep at the wheel.  The cds in the package were disappointing.  Overall, it appeared that the label was too busy following trends instead of creating them.

On the day of my meeting, I received a warm welcome from the RCA staff.  A listening session had just adjourned, and the A & R staff were mulling about.  There were Suits lingering outside the conference room in a heated discussion.  Bob Jamieson came over and introduced himself and asked me to wait a few minutes more.  About an hour later, I was escorted into his office and was left to myself for a bit.  This was when I studied the photos and memorabilia to get a sense of the man to whom I’d submit my business proposal.  Eventually, he returned and we sat down to talk.

I began with my theory of a “New” Rock ‘N’ Roll, satisfying a disenfranchised and older market.  I spared no detail and spoke from the heart as if we were at a Happy Hour on our third round.  As my pitch progressed, Bob became distracted by phone calls, impromptu meetings and paperwork.  He also went out and spoke to his secretary for several minutes.  When he came back, he had a copy of the original letter I had sent them, and was skimming through it.  It was obvious that he hadn’t read it.  It also became apparent that he had no idea who I was and why I so desperately wanted to meet with him.  In addition, I didn’t get the sense that this guy knew much about music.  I’d refer to bands or songs to demonstrate a point and was waiting for the “Yeah!  I know what you mean!” type of response.  Instead, Bob grew restless and fidgety.  At the end of ten minutes or so, he made a polite excuse and called our meeting to an end.  He looked like a man who had been tortured by mindless talk about music–by a musician no less.  The horror!

…Hit You On The Way Out!

As he escorted me out of his office, I could see the red face of his secretary, Claudette, as I walked by her desk.  She diverted her eyes when I thanked her for inviting me.  The look on her face told me that she got a royal reaming from her boss for setting up this meeting.  She was in deep shit.  I felt like Jerry Maguire in the movie, the morning after the delivery of his infamous Mission Statement.  Embarrassed for misdirected passions and humiliated for my naivete.  I was treading water in another world and realizing that I had no idea how it operated.  “You know, you’d be a great A & R guy” he said as I waited for the elevator.  “It’s just that we’re not hiring anyone at the moment.” “Gee,” I thought, “thanks for offering me the hypothetical job.”  I walked in wanting to reinstate Rock ‘N’ Roll to its rightful throne.  I walked out in search of my dignity.

Part 8

The After Story

Bob Jamieson contacted me some time later and asked me to meet with one of his A & R guys.  Maybe he had a chance to reflect on our meeting and my ideas.  I took the meeting.  I forget the guy’s name, but I remember that every few minutes, he’d supress a yawn.  After that, there were no more discussions or meetings with RCA.

In hindsight, I think things could have gone either way for me.  Going out on a limb for my “pitch” was well worth it, and I’ve done it again since.  From an early age, I believed that you had to be the best at what you do.  That’s what really matters.  This is a noble mission, but there’s a lot left out of that statement.  There’s your roomate at Yale or NYU, the personal connections with your neighbors in Great Neck or Scarsdale, the charity your family supports, your handicap on the golf course, the size of your trust fund, your fraternity brothers, your dad’s Wall Street associates, your wife the banker, or the Board that your mother chairs.  I’ve never had any of these “assets.”  Instead, after my RCA meeting, I could feel the loafer heel on my forehead as I was repelled from the party boat.

A Valuable Lesson

The lesson I learned was this: Assess, acknowledge, move on.  Sometimes things work out, sometimes they don’t.  Sometimes you’re handed your station in life on a platter, and other times, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never achieve your dreams and goals.  If that’s the case, don’t make a big deal about it, just move on to the next endeavour.  However, it is important that you continue to assert yourself.  Do the hard work and don’t worry too much about the outcome.  Two years later, in a strange twist, I became an elementary teacher in the NYC Public School system.  In a way, I felt like I had answered a calling.  Teaching and I fit like hand in glove.  In another way, because of my teaching job, my music career was never better.  Finally, I was able to say “no” to sub-standard or underpaying gigs.  In addition, my schedule was suddenly full, which made my time more valuable to me and my clients.  Surprisingly, leaving my old lifestyle was as easy as dropping a hot coal.  Assess, acknowledge, move on.

The Pitch

I’m finishing up my latest post entitled, The Pitch: How My Passion for Rock ‘N’ Roll Led Me to RCA Records and a Career In Teaching. In it, I detail my many hair-brained business concepts, including one that caught the attention of music giant, BMG and the President of RCA Records, Bob Jamieson. It’s an eight-part series and will be posted daily over the course of eight days beginning Sunday, June 13, 2010. An earlier posting, The Pitch: Part I serves as the basis of the series and will be included in an updated and revised form.  UDATE: JUNE 30, 2010.  The Pitch: How My Passion for Rock ‘N’ Roll Led Me to RCA Records and a Career In Teaching can be read here.

Drums and Percussion At Work

My long-time friend, percussionist Emedin Rivera and I recently performed with Bock and Blu in Stamford, CT (see photo below). Emedin and I have been working together with various artists since the mid-80’s. For years we were the rhythm section for legendary violinist, Noel Pointer. Recently, we had a chance to reminisce about our tenure with Noel and how, at sound check, we would often learn that we’d be playing with all the other acts on the night’s bill. In other words, we were “farmed-out” to the other entertainers. Showbiz!  Gotta love it! Emedin and I are proud Paiste and Vic Firth endorsers, hence the products in the pics.

Video Plans

Plans are in the works to shoot a series of short drum videos for my Youtube channel and my website. Among other ideas, I want to create segments that demonstrate ensemble playing and the process of making musical decisions. My goal is to make them short, easy and informative.

So far, I’ve posted two drum loops to my website. They are free and easily downloadable. You can find them under the Audio Tracks category to the right or here.  I posted one track on Youtube recently. You can view it here.

I was in a musical funk and in search of some new material to listen to. An album that would reveal a little more upon every listen. In the past, records by Wilco, The Jayhawks, Boston, Weezer and Pete Yorn had done the trick. Now, I was coming up empty. I blindly reached into the CD case and pulled out the first disc I touched; The Police’s Zenyatta Mondatta. Jeez, this vinyl record had lived on my turntable for months when I was in college. I spent a semester listening to the entire album at least once a day, digesting every lyric and drum fill. Now as I was driving, I stuck it in the player waiting to hear how it would sound after all this time.

It was just what the doctor ordered. A real band playing music before the pro tools era of “fixes.” Simple arrangements allowing  the instruments to breathe and the spaces to take effect. And of course, the unparalleled creative energy of Stewart Copeland’s drumming. This guy wrote the book on a style of drumming that we haven’t heard before or for that matter, since. Songs like “Bombs Away” and “Driven to Tears” now sounded as fresh as ever. His bell and ride cymbal patterns transcend rhythm and at times sound like counter melodies. Granted, Sting has proven to be a star all on his own, but I think that some recording artists are not better going solo.

This got me thinking about artists who also parted with their drummers. Tom Petty and drummer Stan Lynch. The Pretenders and Martin Chambers. AC/DC and Phil Rudd. Aerosmith and Joe Perry (They recorded an entire album with another drummer and shelved it after it was decided “it didn’t sound like Aerosmith”). What about R.E.M. and Bill Berry, or The Replacements and Chris Mars? Some of these bands have wisely reconnected with their drummers. However, it looks to me that these break-ups were an effort by the artist to move on, move up, be better and reach a higher station in the business, as if it was the drummer holding them back.  (Thoughts on why this happens will appear in Part 2 of this series).  UPDATE 5/29/10: I share some of my thoughts and hypotheses regarding this narcissistic artist syndrome in another piece which can be read here.

So, how did it work out? Has Tom Petty exceeded the standards of “American Girl” or “Breakdown” since the firing of Stan Lynch? How did it go for R.E.M.? If today were the beginning of their career, where would they stand? Stewart Copeland’s drumming was integral to the success of The Police. Perhaps a little too much so. Is it possible that Sting ditched The Police partly because the drummer’s style branded the music? Has Sting truly done better and more innovative work since dumping Steward Copeland?  It appears that some recording artists ruin a good thing just so they can say, “This is all mine and I did it all by myself.”

Conversely, I imagined The Rolling Stones without Charlie Watts and Rush without Neil Peart. Dave Matthews without Carter Beauford, but I couldn’t do it. Thank God that Page and Plant did not pursue Led Zeppelin without John Bonham. It seems that these artists embraced their drummer’s musical personality, making it part of their brand, front and center.

Here’s the Musician magazine article. I think the problem is fixed (thanks Jade!). Click the link and the file should load. It may take a few seconds, so please be patient. This article was written by Bill Flanagan, who shadowed the band while we recorded in Gainsville, FL.

The final installment of this series will be posted on Monday, March 1st.

The Silos Musican Mag

The Challenge. We study and practice.  Yet the question remains, “What now?”  How do I make a musical connection to others?  How do I apply my skills to real-world experiences?  It’s frustrating that the craft of drumming, and the landscape of the music business is not an exact science.  But there are things you can do; steps you can take; and changes you can implement to take you out of the practice room and into the music business. Let’s start by planning and then by taking a look at your goals.

Take stock. Examine your musical and professional experiences and goals.  Where are you in your music career?  How many shows do you play a year?  Do you have the network you need to achieve your goals?  Do you have any network at all?  What do you want to be doing next month or next year?  Are you on the outside looking in?  If so, what must change?  This type of personal assessment will be different for everyone depending on your hopes and dreams.  Allow yourself the time for this evaluation.  Perhaps even do some research.  Be very clear about the type of drummer you are, and the types of playing at which you shine. Taking an honest look at your present situation will save time now and perhaps avoid future disappointment.  It will also pave the way for your next step.

Find your pigeonhole. Have a concise, truthful answer prepared to the “What kind of drummer are you?” question.  Once you’ve decided, stick to the answer and tell people that answer when they ask!  For drummers, this seems to go against our very core.  We are taught to be well rounded and versatile.  We should be open to many musical styles.  However, it is also important to realize that fellow musicians, band mates, the music industry, even your local bartender, will classify you as a certain kind of drummer.  For example, think of a drummer that you do not know personally, but one whose work you admire.  What kind of drummer is he?  If you had to put him in one musical category, what would it be?  You see?  We do it to others, and others will do it to us.

If you do not pigeonhole yourself, others may do it for you. For example, suppose you consider yourself a heavy metal drummer.  Your band recently returned from a successful tour.  You have several weeks before your band tours again.  To pay the rent, you accept a six-week gig, playing a show at a local dinner theater.  Because you are now working at a dinner theater, are you a show drummer?  The outside world may see it that way if you let them.  However, if you have already established yourself as a heavy metal drummer, the theater gig will only help you appear accomplished and versatile.  Remember to decide your category honestly, and then stick to it, no matter what kinds of jobs you are doing.  Soon, others will describe you by using your own phrase. If you do not take the time to type cast yourself, to pigeonhole your career, you are leaving your legacy open to the random interpretation of your peers.  Now that you have your place in the music world, it is time to make something happen.