Ludwig Centennials commemorating Ludwig's 100th anniversary.
That's an onomatopoeia, Ka-wham is. My friend Tessa taught me that word a long time ago. It's a word that describes a sound. When I hear one I think about those old Batman and Robin episodes when I was a young kid. Every time the dynamic duo got into a fight and there was contact made the entire TV screen would momentarily go to a bright color with various onomatopoeias flashing, you know like Ka-Pow or Wham or... you get the idea. Then I think about a picture my little brother Jeff and I had made with Batman when we were little. It was amazing, we were standing next to Batman *spoken in that little boy loud church whisper*. It was cool.
So, while I'm thinking about cool stuff from a long time ago I normally end up at some point thinking about music. There was a day when I thought I wanted to, in some capacity, play professionally. Not that I was good enough mind you, I just wanted to do it. In my early 20's I fell victim to a ploy to play the drums at a band rehearsal. I didn't know the band but a friend of mine did and he wanted to "casually" stop by for a few minutes. Next thing I know he's telling these guys I play so of course I'm now being prodded to the drum kit. I wasn't comfortable with this at all but their insistence was equally uncomfortable. To make matters worse, they were a country band. Now I appreciate the talent that some country musicians have, but it's not for me. That stuff is just nasty. I played a few songs, then a few more, then a few more. The next thing I know I'd been playing almost two hours. On our way out I noticed some of the band members huddled up talking low. My friend and I were making our way to the car when we were stopped by the "band leader" or "head cowboy", actually I think he was a truck driver (and get this, his name was Elmer Pullin and his nickname was Chicken - Chicken Pullin). He asked me if I'd be interested in playing with them some. I thought to myself "why not". I figured I could come and play every once in a while and have a little fun. So, I said "sure". He said "great, see ya next week". As he was shutting the mobile home door I heard him yelling to the other guys "Hey boys! He's in"! As soon as the car doors shut I looked at my friend and said "oh damn, I think I accidentally just joined a redneck country band". He just grinned. It was that moment that I realized there wasn't even a drummer there before I walked in. I was trying out for a country band and didn't even know it nor wanted to. I felt sick, and betrayed by my "friend". After 27 or 28 beers we had a good laugh about it. Then I sobered up.
After a few practice sessions we started playing places in the region, like swanky night clubs and stuff, oh and then there was the Armadillo Festival. I remember one place we played called Amanda's Palace, it was a Palace alright. I just knew at some point I was going to end up in the emergency room with a laceration to the head from a beer bottle. It was incentive to play good, believe me. We even played at this deer camp a few times that belonged to some farmer. It was more like a lodge, very nice. There was always a bunch of people there and man, it was always a party. One time while we were in the middle of playing there I looked up and saw the mayor of the town I lived in. He was really having a good time. I figured after that night my job as a fireman and city employee got really secure. Not that I would ever pull that card but it was in my hip pocket none the less. Heh.
Even though I didn't like country music I was having a good time. We even went to a recording studio and put some stuff on tape. Remember those, tapes? That was a really cool experience. I was getting more and more proficient at playing, so much so that I started getting phone calls from people in other towns that I had never heard of before with offers to play in their band or to fill in for their drummer that for what ever reason couldn't make a show they were playing somewhere. I never took any of them up on their offers, even though some of them payed pretty good. I simply didn't have the confidence to play music I didn't have much time to practice for or playing with people I didn't know. When you play with a group of people you learn how to play with each other and learn the little signs and signals when there's a problem or a change. Basically I had a fear of screwing up and not being able to cover up or recover.
After a while I became a little bored so I left "The Rollin' Country Boys" band (rollin' my eyes) and started playing with a couple of friends of mine that had a very similar taste in music as I did. They were both very talented and the Bass player, Rusty, was like a music god to me. He was very knowledgeable and talented. He even did some session recording in Memphis with Jamie Jamison the lead singer for the rock band Survivor, you know as in, "Eye of the Tiger"... dehh... dehh, dehh, dehh. Yeah, I really looked up to Rusty. I was always hanging out at his place talking about music and stuff. He was a really positive influence on me as a person too. Hell of a guy. Still is. He had this wall in his place that had some drum sticks hanging on it from events he'd played before with other drummers. I really wanted to get to hang one of my sticks on the wall of fame. Sure enough the day came that I got to hang one. I signed it "first time". It hung there for a very long time. Coolness.
The guitar player soon moved away and Rusty met a super nice girl and I got on with my job as a fireman and model airplanes and before I knew it, it was over. I still kept up with music and studied it and listened to as much as I could get my hands on. Over the years I've toyed with the thought of playing again. About ten years ago I even broke out my old trumpet and started playing it again. I went so far as to drive an hour north for some professional instruction and an hour south to play with a community concert band. I was even offered a scholarship to play at the University of Arkansas at Monticello if you can believe that, I hardly could. Even though I was considering going back to school at the time, I declined. I played everyday and even learned how to play the Didgeridoo and an Armenian double reed instrument called a Duduk. I surrounded myself with music.
I soon moved away and music playing again took a back seat. I now lived in an apartment and everything I knew how to play was too loud except for the Duduk. Even it slid in to the shadows as my art career took off. Still though, every time I heard music I would pick apart the drums and bass lines and sometimes imagine myself nailing those notes in perfect time. When I paint I most often listen to music and when I step back to look at my work as I go I'm guilty of using the paint brush as a drum stick, and if it's a really good part of the song I'll pick up another one so I'll have two, unless of course I'm listening to a Def Leopard song, in that case one will always suffice.
From time to time I'll look around on Craig's List and eBay at drums thinking if I run across just the right set, then just maybe, I might have a go. I'm in a house now and have plenty of room. A few days ago I came across an add for a set of Ludwig Centennials that are Maple covered. These drums without any hardware are over $1000.00, so when I saw that the guy was selling them for $600.00 and they hadn't been played to speak of, I figured I'd email him. In less than an hour and $450.00 later I was the proud new owner of a kit. They look sweet in my living room too. I still have to collect all of the other bits such as cymbals and hardware but I'm off to one heck of a start. I've started the pain staking process of getting them tuned and hope to be done with that soon. Until then I'll just keep staring at them and imagining myself running through flams, polyrhythms, and syncopations. And before you know it, with sticks in hand, Wham! - as in the onomatopoeia, not to be confused with the '80s pop band whose singer got caught masturbating in a public rest room... just sayin'.
Jason
Subscribe to Jason Gammel
