1982 - 1994. Gooseberries.
Unlike most Earth Children I was not conceived by the union of man and woman. My origins in their entirety remain somewhat clouded but, like superman I was found and adopted by kind human parents. According to them I was found under a gooseberry bush at the end of the garden. For a while I pondered whether this was just a fable, concocted by my middle class parents, unable to talk to their offspring about the birds and the bees. I soon however discarded this theory as far too outlandish and unlikely to warrant any serious thought.
1994 - 1998. Appendages.
After a prolonged childhood observing insects, playing with lego and trying to do my best to get along with my infant human brother I found myself in a secondary school class with a hair beast known as George. After some months I noticed, attached to this pleasant fellow and little more than a fleshy appendage, a shy guitarist called Gemma Caley. And that was that for 3 years. By year 10 however I decided it was time to attract a mate and so started playing drums in a band with George's appendage. This succeeded and I started going out with the other female guitarist at which point Thursday afternoon rehearsals in the school music room became a secondary preoccupation. At this time I also began listening to classic metal bands such as Metallica and Megadeth and the bland, inoffensive pop/rock covers we were attempting in this nameless collective forced me to strike out on my own (with Gemma).
1998-1999. Stairways.
This point in my life saw music take on a more than girlfriend attracting significance for me (though drumming has played a part in the eventual conquest-, I mean relationships with all my past girlfriends, and the present one). I was in a band called Black/White and we had written our first song. I borrowed a crappy, far-eastern made Hohner drum kit (which I later purchased with paper round money) to play our first gig in a church hall just 6 months after I had started to play, and only 1 month before my 16th birthday. The mix of Oasis, Nirvana and original songs went sympathetically well. After a bit of reshaping the band reached a kind of meta-stable equilibrium (no bassist) and our next gig was to be some overly pushy-parent style talent competition. We rehearsed our set (Stairway and something by Republica) in church halls and front rooms across Enfield and the home counties for the gig which went rather well technically, only after all that monotonous practice I ended up not giving a flying fuck and left the band soon afterwards. Deep and seething resentment made me vow never to speak to any of them again, except the beautiful female singer who I then went out with, Gemma Caley and the other Guitarist who I was in a later band with for over 2 years. Oh well.
1999-2000. Fajitas.
My father bought me a couple of instructional videos during that limbo period, reinforcing my ethos of self instruction. One featured Dennis Chambers and Gary Grainger from Funkadelic going at it (musically) like the proverbial clappers. My life was changed forever. Their subtle use of ghost notes, playing in the pocket, nuances of meter and pure jazz/funk improvisation lulled my frustrated musical soul. Then, rather unexpectedly I joined a Thrash/Grind-core band and loved every minute of it. We were "The Victims of Defective Fajitas". We never found a vocalist hardcore enough for us but armed with my new Tama Swingstar kit we thrashed hard, with out regard for pets, neighbours and the consequent police investigation. No more rehearsing in the house - truly my lowest ebb. 5 months later it was time for a new band and, more importantly, a new kit.
2000-2002. The Superkit Era.
I persuaded an old jamming partner from a brief experiment in Golders Green the previous summer to sell me his old 6 piece Export kit. After substantial renovation work which even Allan Titchmarsh or that Llewlyn-Bowen Tosser would be proud of, the Superkit we see today came into being. Few have seen Superkit fully set up as most gig venues don't have enough bass drum mics. Marvel if given the chance.
The new band by the way was False Sense. We got off to a promising start; my ex on vocals, a lesbian bassist and an Irish Goth on guitars. Within a few months we had gigged in real locations and recorded a demo but a couple of nervous breakdowns later and it was all going a bit sour. With our vocalist leaving we were consigned to a pub covers band. Looking back I spent over 2 and a half years in that band in its many guises and is where much of my current style was developed. Contemporary music, and by that I mean music of the post millennial age has also given me great insight into musicianship. Not because of the wealth of talented musicians or the dawning of a new era of music (the 70's had prog and punk, the 80's had NWOBHM and thrash, the 90's Britpop and Grunge) but quite the opposite. The last 4 years can only be described as a musical waste ground, lame in the extreme. But those little jems that have stood out have had all the more impact on my style; "Lateralus" by Tool (Danny Carey), "Deloused" by the Mars Volts (John Theodore) stand out above all others for me.
With all this in mind I left False sense to dissolve into the ether and teamed up with Squit (Lewis) and the Appendage, now more confident and independent than ever before to record a demo that never really happened but who cares. The rest, as they say, is in the band biography section. Take up the story there. And well done for getting this far.
Tips For Aspiring Drummers:
- Burn all your Hives CD's, anything by The Strokes or The Smiths. YOU WILL LEARN NOTHING FROM THESE.
- Don't dismiss anything from pre 1980, even if your parents made you listen to it as a child.
- You don't always have to sync your bass drum with the bass guitar, this is a myth.
- If your dad offers you a lift, take it.
- Big kits get girls wet! Proof of fact man.
- Practice kits are pointless. Get rubber pads for your acoustics or better, blag an electronic kit if your parents are rich enough to live in places like Radlett or Cuffley.
