Do It The Hard Way

This post is about how it was in the 80s, and follows on from the earlier post entitled 'Close, But No Rock Star'. You might want to look at that one either before or after reading this.

This instalment is about as close as I get to self pity, which is not very close at all, and its core subject matter is hard, work, tenacity and self belief.
I'm not overburdened by modesty either, but it's one thing to have all sorts of facility on the instrument, entirely another to present yourself  in a way that meets the demands of our ever-changing industry.

There's an old adage that runs along the lines of keeping something for long enough and eventually you'll find a use for it.

Many years ago I uploaded an old video of the Midlands Youth Jazz Orchestra from the early 80s. It was an appearance on the BBC's long forgotten 'Schools Prom' series which showcased young musical talent across a broad range of styles.
On the broadcast I dropped a stick in the middle of an 8 bar solo, kept going with one hand and my feet, scrabbled around on the floor to recover the remaining stick, and carried on.

The other day I thought it might be amusing to lift out the few seconds in question and share it on Instagram. The response has been quite overwhelming, especially as I thought that a lot of you had probably already seen it. In case you haven't here it is.....

Shared via Facebook it has become my second most popular social media post ever, and some of the comments have been  both very kind and amusing.

"19...Were you never sh*t?" was a particular favourite, even if the question posed is very much a matter of opinion. What seemed to surprise a lot of people is that I was playing big band drums in a style very akin to a lot of what I play now way back in the early 80s. On the back of this I've been asked a number of times where I was for all those years. Years in which my impact on the UK music scene and the drum industry was, to all intents and purposes, zero.

I stayed with MYJO for about another year after this broadcast. I had been there a long time and there was a great young drummer coming through who I felt needed the opportunity to cultivate his already considerable talents. Also, always having been a little 'old for my years' by 21 I was playing with people twice my age and probably thought (quite erroneously of course) that I had done all I could with the band. I had a berth with the All Stars big band in Birmingham, led by fellow drummer Garry Allcock (of vintage drum industry fame) and there was quite a bit of work to be had in the West Midlands at that time.

All well and good, but what would be the next step be to advance into the big bad world of the music profession. In other words, how would I take this particular skill set and use it to progress in the direction of my ambitions? The short answer; I wouldn't. The mid 80s British Jazz Boom was still some way off and didn't come to Birmingham. My approach to the instrument was totally out of step with fashion. I flatter myself with the description 'maverick' but the fact is I liked old school, straight ahead jazz and had short hair. This was not something teenagers really did back then apart from a very few of us.
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An important thing to remember about big bands, be they youth jazz orchestras or adult, professional bands is that unlike brass and saxophones, there's only ever one drummer on the gig. There are very few exceptions to this although occasionally it has been attempted. Never once in history has it succeeded and it should never be done again. The fact that there is only one drummer makes the competition to be first call wildly different from the other sections, where simple logic makes the likelihood of getting a call to dep much more probable. I've spent a great deal of time around youth big bands, both back then as a participant and more recently as a guest artist or educator. I've seen pushy Dads literally elbowing other drummers aside so their offspring got first shot at the drum chair, and have even heard rumours of plain brown envelopes been handed over to secure a position which ability alone may possibly not have guaranteed.

Anyway, about a year prior to this TV recording I had stepped out on stage as a big band leader in my own right for the very first time. It would have been nice to think that the media of the day would have taken an interest, and perhaps had I had a better plan businesswise (as the music was without exception of a high quality) it's possible that early project could have advanced beyond a few gigs and a small amount of newspaper coverage.  Trouble was I just wanted to play jazz. In spite of having grown up listening to a broad range of music, it was exclusively the recordings of the jazz greats that had got me serious about playing.
At that point I had no interest in playing pop music. It was loathed by the musicians of my Dad's generation and the Top 20 repertoire that one was called upon to play courtesy of the latest 'Pop Plan' arrangements I considered dross. Also the virtue of playing simply had yet to dawn on me, which didn't help a great deal either.
Don't get me wrong, I had great records by Herbie Hancock, The Beatles, Deep Purple, and the Average White Band to pick out a random few, but I couldn't make the connection between what I was hearing on disc with what was required in the dance halls of the West Midlands. In my defence try googling 'best selling UK singles, 1981', and my antipathy may become easier to appreciate. But just like the woefully out of fashion marine pearl drum set, I needed to broaden my range as a player, and get myself a couple of somewhat younger drummers to idolise. Thank heaven, therefore, for Steve Gadd and Vinnie Colaiuta, who would become my final formative influences.

So my precocious talent notwithstanding, then the apprenticeship really began. I had to be a holiday camp drummer, a cruise ship drummer, a panto drummer, and a theatre variety show drummer in order to advance. I also had to summon up the confidence to step out of my local scene and see if I had what was needed to operate at a higher level, in the company of strangers, of which for many years I was actually quite unsure. I had my sights set on London, but it was a circuitous journey taking in destinations such as Prestatyn, Southport, Mansfield, the Caribbean, Weston-Super-Mare, the Mediterranean, until finally coming into land in my newly purchased two bedroom flat across the road from Elstree and Borehamwood railway station in November 1992. Throughout that entire period the swinging, driving big band groove, to say nothing of drum solos whose duration would have won the respect of the late Ken Dodd, all had to be put on ice. I even took to using a more contemporary drum set configuration in big band settings. Back then using vintage drums was strictly the preserve of 'old guys' (most of whom younger than I am now). There are a variety of reasons for why in some ways the 80s was a bit of a cultural wasteland for a player like me. One of which is that at this time a big percentage of the great jazz originators were still alive and playing. Their original audience was still alive and supporting them in droves, and far fewer young people were attending jazz events than compared to now. The music was perceived by the NME reading majority as being uncool and for old people, and although not unheard of, it was quite unusual to see younger musicians in the ranks of professional big bands and mainstream jazz groups of the day. This is exemplified by the fact that Kenny Clare and Ronnie Verrall, indisputably two of the very best drummers of their time, were doing a 'job share' on the drum chair of the Syd Lawrence band. The Rat Pack made all this repertoire cool again, but that was still a way off in the future. When Andy Prior broke through with a very good, very young big band presenting music from the classic era it was rightly seized upon by older listeners and broadcasters with considerable zeal. With the benefit of hindsight this was an imporatant moment in breaking down cultural barriers between generations, and for its time can be appreciated as authentic postmodernism.

So what's the point of this latest stroll down memory lane other than to shine a light on what I was doing roughly 35 years ago? Well, it's this.
Every week for the last quarter of a century since I began teaching drums at higher education level I have been asked for career guidance of one sort or another, but it usually boils down to how one should go about 'making it'.
For the teenage me to focus entirely on an unpopular, niche market style of music made about as much sense as  a player who is in an 'originals band' whose sole intention is to 'get signed', and has no contingency plan (i.e. being a flexible, all-round, reading drummer who is employable across the board). I constantly tell young players to have the broadest possible skill set and to be 'whatever-kind-of-player-the-industry-wants-you-to-be', and above all, be tenacious and be patient.
Don't set self-limiting goals and don't put cut off points on your affirmations.
The wheel didn't really start to spin my way until I was about 45, and the ten years since have been extraordinary, more than compensating for the disappointments and lack of progress in those early days.
I keep my fingers crossed that there is still some distance to travel and more yet to achieve. You should do that too.