Frank India

Ok, so life's tough and then you die, right? Hold on a minute there Sparky, not so fast! Lot's happens to you on your way from the comfort and security of the cradle, to that final paid gig at Bernie's Bar and Grill. You know the place...it's that dive with the three wide screen TV's and the two pool tables at the other end of the dance floor.

Pray tell, you ask? Well, first there's pimples and premature ejaculation, (which is actually good because it should mean you're finally having sex with someone other then yourself)...Your first car and parking tickets...Your first love and that weird rash thing, followed quickly by a doctor's visit and your second love. Then there's getting a haircut, a job, and your own apartment.

Perfect, right? Sure it is...but come now, you knew that wouldn't last. Somewhere in that divine and natural order of things, some kind of unexplainable neurological wackiness happens which disrupts the otherwise perfectly normal line chart of your life. A destabilizing arrhythmia within that rarely used other part of your brain that actually knows better occurs and ´wham!', you decide you want to play the drums...or maybe the accordion. If it's the accordion, check yourself into the nearest emergency room and request mind altering drugs immediately! If its horizontal keyboards, well, you're probably gay but not to worry. Although there are no drugs for this just yet outside of the usual recreational ones, (let's give the Evangelical's a minute or two more here), you're now part of a fashionable alternative lifestyle and sure to be successful, whether you can play or not.

So where does all this lead us? Well, usually to endless hours of listening to our favorite bands and players. To practicing, and practicing some more so we can play like we hear it in our dreams. And on our way to that dream we'll go through 2, 3, or maybe 13 more girl friends...18, or 19 different bands, and a dozen or so part or full time jobs.** We'll move in and out of many seedy apartments in questionable parts of the cities of our choice, and do endless hours of wondering how to plant our feet on the next higher wrung of the music biz ladder. And at some point in all of this somewhat non-rational right of passage, we'll reach a point where we start to call ourselves professional musicians.

This column is going to be about many things, but mostly it's going to be about life, drums and drumming. I'd like it to entertain, inspire, and maybe even enlighten. This can be our place to look back at where we've been, talk about where we're at now, and contemplate what might come next.

My hope is that it will be an opportunity to talk shop, share some ideas, tell stories, think, laugh, and maybe even look at some familiar things in some new ways. Mostly though, this is going to be our little excuse to continue to celebrate this journey we're all still on.

** If your actual numbers do not either match or greatly exceed those listed here, then I'd say we've found our accordion player. But hey guy, don't fret...there's still time. (..Myron Florin...my apologies).



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