Every day is waiting for my next chance to stop thinking.

Two hand drummers sat down on the train home yesterday and started slapping their congas, praising Jesus and making their instruments sing.  I couldn't help but hate them for celebrating life and having the means to do so.

The guitarist for my band, Kill the Huxter, had just informed me that a family vacation had popped up and the comeback show we'd slated for August 27th (see flyers below) was off.  I suppose we could find a replacement guitarist and teach him or her the licks, but I try to recognize and deal with underlying problems and not put an adhesive bandage on the symptom.  Since I had been in talking to the venue, I get to inform them of our flakiness and find a replacement band.  After that, I'm going to focus solely on the drums for the band and nothing else.

The last three shows where our singer ended each set early (replete with self-disparaging, self-fulfilling comments throughout),  an upcoming show nobody was asked about until after it had been booked, and now an unforeseen family vacation.  I'm washing my hands.  Flanked by musicians who seem to actively work against our interests while trying to keep my sanity and convince promoters and venues that we're reliable is a bigger battle than I can fight alone, so I'm not going to try.

My goal of joining a musical theater pit orchestra seems farther away than it did a year ago and I'm not sure how to bring it closer.

I got the broke A.C. blues..

I have the espresso desire to write at this late hour, but I'm short on brain power, so I'll keep it sweet.

All manner of plans are in motion of which the end result will hopefully be a schedule of intuitive and soul-satisfying work during the day and evening classes at Julliard during the night.  Now wouldn't that be sweet?

Stay tuned.

Scheme-y Like Wile. E. Coyote.

Things appear to have stalled.  While Kill The Huxter is going well enough - I'm challenged, creatively unbound, and energized to practice more and get a little better every day.  The hardest part, as it may or may not be with most drummers, is knowing when not to play.  By nature and practice I am a busy, one might even say verbose, drummer.  I loved the Irish Pipers of San Francisco because the drum music, concentrated on a single snare, had to be dynamic and controlled.  dozens of notes crammed into bars have to lilt and sing.  Transferring that concept to an entire kit is proving to be more difficult than I imagine.  Maybe the music doesn't lend itself as perfectly to my learned style - but I am a firm believer in the maneuverability of a non traditional musical style into a traditional musical genre.

I hate referring to (what I think is best described as) rock & roll as "traditional", but it does have its glorious traditions that are maintained, held up and worshiped to a fault.  I believe in rock as ever-challenging and ever-questioning and ever-instinctual.  The pioneers of any tradition don't seem to take first steps because they believe it will grant them perceived immortality, they seem to do so just to take the risk.  They do so out of curisity.  And they do so just because it feels right - like they just should.  


I have successfully digressed.  Things appear to have stalled.  Though apparently there is unprecedented want for pit musicians, I haven't seemed to have that "up-and-atom", that trademark moxie on which I rely for a means to a good story lately.  I won't lie, I've been in a bit of a rough patch, as tends to happen in life - can't be get-up-and-go all the time, after all.  I have been trying to stay busy, though.  Designing flyers for the aforementioned band:

..designing business cards for when the time comes:

..and working my way through Tommy Igoe's Groove Essentials have all kept me feeling relatively positive about my whole swing at this thing.  

Another change that may or may not effect music will be the probable addition of KITTIES.  Mizz Chetta has more on that story, but I have a feeling the warmth of two new furry things won't hurt my mood and best case scenario, will help me realize whatever I need to realize to move past these mental roadblocks that have placed themselves squarely between my desire to succeed and my ability to work toward success.

A change in job position probably wouldn't be a detriment to my energy reserves and general level of positivity.  Bartending would be ideal, though now it's been so long since I've shaken a drink, old insecurities are beginning to grow like weeds, sucking the nutrients out of these fertile surroundings.  God, I hate self-insecurity: rarely are they useful, and their resilience is bastardly. 

So I believe I can't move forward musically without a position change, which I can't talk myself into going out for as I can't hear myself think over my own ridiculous self-degrandizing mental tape-loop.

These meta-mental calisthenics are nice and all, but at the end of the day all it takes to change your situation is to change something for the better.  Enter: Bang!  The Drum School.  

Step 1 - drum lessons at Bang! (i.e. schmooze and network with more learned musicians).  

Step 2 - practice at the Musician's Union practice space (i.e. schmooze and network with better connected musicians.  

Step 3 - profit.  

It's all there in plain English - I'm a genius and my newest plan is foolproof.  Or foolhardy.  I always get those two mixed up.