Friday Post Gig Ponderings

Sitting at my desk, knackered and bollocksed after last night's gig with the covers band. It was our first gig in a little run of four in about two weeks. Tomorrow night we'll be playing again at the same venue with the same set, just to different people.

What's there to tell?

Well, we did one new song in the set "Somebody told me" by the Killers. You know the one. It's a big epic fuck off song, with more production in it than in a whole Abba album. For me it's not a technically challenging song but is one of the most challenging songs I've ever played in other ways. So many different drum patterns in it and each one is played for a few bars before I have to fly to the next one, all must be remembered all played with conviction.

It worked too. I've yet to write my post on the four stages of learning but I'm happy to report that I've reached the third stage with "Somebody told me", that of "conscious competence".

"Dakota", in my opinion is too early in that set, merely because I do an extended solo thing towards the end of it and that was quite hard to do with only a couple of people up on the dance floor and showing interest. I think the song is a good opener for the second set but will suggest to the chaps tomorrow that we do it without my solo.

I messed up the intro to "She sells sanctuary" by totally forgetting that we had decided that the guitar intro would be played twice round before I come in with that snare hit (Confab, you know what I mean). So I hit the snare as loudly as I could and came in with the force of a few angry elephants only to discover very quickly that I was on my own. As one of my first drum teachers taught me I carried on as if I had meant it. And it nearly worked.

We'd thought the crowd would be a hard one to get up on the dance floor but we were so wrong. They were out for a good night and went for it big time. All were up shaking their middle class bootie and there were good times to be had by all. Once we finished I must confess I sufferred a bit of drummer blues. It's a thing shared by many drummers; when we get a bit frustrated that no one's really bothered about the drummer when things go well.

Singers, guitarists and those blokes that get seen all get pats on the back and shouts of "well done" and "have you got a card?". Drummers get looks of vague recognition, people who have been dancing all night to your groove looking at you and trying to figure out where they know you from. It's our lot, it's what we do and usually I just accept it. Last night, for some reason it got to me a bit. Such is life. It's only crap drummers that get noticed by normal punters. It's only other drummers and musos that notice a good drummer.

You know, the big problem with gigging on a school night is the tiredness. I got in last night, unloaded my kit, jumped into bed at about 1 AM, knowing that I had to be up at 5.50 for work.

I must have spent hours lying awake, reliving the gig, thinking about each song, each good bit, each bad bit, with the adrenalin still storming around my body and fighting the tiredness as if it was it's oldest and most feared enemy. Eventually the tiredness won.

Tonight is all mine. No gig, no girls, no practice. It's going to consist of eating, sleeping and mellowing. Then tomorrow it's gig time again.

Dodgy band, dodgy venue, dodgy musicians.

God, I love it.

Have a good weekend all.

Happy birthday to T.