...because it is a result of drums and around drums that Cliff and Teri came to visit. Of course, many may be the drummers and few the friends, so drumming isn't really the reason at heart, but it sure is the vehicle.
They arrived early evening on Tuesday. Almost immediately, we hauled Cliff's Designers upstairs, got heads changed and tuned, and his kit set up, so that we'd have as much as possible of the next day to play around. The weekend (I want to call it a weekend even though it was not, technically) wasn't all drums; the four of us also enjoyed good conversation and good food, and we had a reasonable amount of liquid palliative to smooth it all out and wash it down. Charlie is a great guest, too, and though there was some friction between him and the house cat, Charlie caused none of it. He is a good old hound, even though this morning he gave me a lesson in not-being-the-boss-of-him, while I followed in my bathrobe and slippers, downstream along the creek and around the next building to the south, where he decided the game had gone on long enough and affected interested in a clump of long grasses in order to let me catch him.
I am caused to report that, at the age of 61, I've never played drums with another drummer. Some of you may have done a lot of it, and if you did no doubt it was fun. But the idea has never attracted me. We trap drummers travel alone. We don't congregate the way guitar players do. We don't form drum circles (drum circles are for people who aren't drummers, sensitive new-age types, who are hoping it will help them to get primitive and find their inner males. They generally do it after an emotional breakup with a new-age female who thoroughly gelded them, so you can stand around with a bunch of other pony-tailed rejects and thump more or less rhythmically. My inner male is way on the outside, so there wouldn't be a lot of purpose, and he might be driven to acts of violence, so why give him the opportunity?). I have been in circumstances where another drummer is also a friend, but in such cases one guy always stood around and watched while the other played. It never lasted long. Musically, drums are great accompaniment instruments but drums accompanying drums is a odd concept - at least it is an odd concept in my mind, though some may think it is my mind that is odd, and I can provide no argument.
It took Cliff and me a little while to warm up, but soon enough we began trading ideas and licks. I'd love to be able to do that once a week, because you can learn a lot watching another drummer while playing yourself. We played in sets through most of yesterday morning, then ate lunch, went out for a short walk, and came back and played some more. Each time it got better.
Good things end. Fortunately bad things do to, so I'm not urging a cosmic viewpoint here, but we packed the drums back downstairs last evening, loaded their vehicle and this morning, about 7AM, Cliff and Teri headed out, going west though Dubuque toward home. Next stop Wichita. Well, probably they'll take a break sooner, because Charlie will want a pit stop.
Last thing I saw was a Texas license plate on the back of Cliff's rig, but I am left with the sense of a profoundly good time, and with the vague residual aroma of the cigars Cliff and I smoked last night, capping off a great visit.
ps. I know,
pics or it didn't happen. I was too involved to take any, but I know there were some taken, and I expect to see them sometime soon. It'll be fun to see it from someone else's point of view.
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