My boy turned a year old this week. On the one hand, it feels surreal that it’s been a whole year since he popped into this plane. On the other hand, life as a first-time dad has never been so dense as this last year. It honestly feels like two. And yet… the joy! The pure love you feel is remarkable. I’ve heard about this my whole life… how, regardless of whether or not you are a “kid” person (I am not), when you have your own, it’s different, they say. You will feel an insane amount of love for this little being. This, it turns out, is true.
As a result, I have experienced a radical expansion in my life that, frankly, I’m still sorting through. It’s as though I’ve stepped into a double-life: a parallel existence as both the guy I’ve always been, but also the guy I now am as a father, experiencing the world through the fresh, curious eyes of my son. And with this expansion, you make decisions in an entirely different way. You might even uproot your life and move somewhere previously unimaginable if it’s in the best interest of your youngster. And certainly, you will say, do, and tolerate things you never thought possible.
Early on, I was changing my kid’s diaper and he pissed on my leg. I was unfazed and carried on. About two hours later, the piss had long dried, but it finally hit me: I was still wearing the same pants! Had this been someone else’s little mongrel, I would’ve freaked and had to change my pants immediately. But my little mongrel? No problem. My boy’s body fluids (and other excretions) do not bother me… including those associated with the infamous “poopy diapers,” which most everyone else would find disgusting. Must be another slice of that Darwin thing: that inherent frame of unrelenting, unconditional love with which we view our children, thus ensuring their survival! It’s wild. And to think I almost missed out on all of this.
Kari and I decided early on to keep our son’s name and likeness private (until further notice), but here’s one of our first family pics from when he was roughly one week old.
The New Parents
As for parenting our kid, I would say, so far, so good: Kari and I have done pretty well, I think. By all accounts, he’s a well-adjusted young lad with an agreeable demeanor. He smiles a lot. He rarely cries. He seems unaffected by crowds, loud environments, and new adventures. He can hang in various social situations without issue. He’s healthy. He’s a good sleeper. He’s fairly autonomous and overtly curious about things in his environment. I don’t know if these attributes are inherently part of his nature, or to what extent he will retain them, but so far, we are grateful!
And I think all of our various protocols for him—such as minimal exposure to electronics (screens, TVs, etc.); maximum exposure to books, “mind-sharpening” toys, and great music; predictable morning/evening routines, healthy food, and consistent nap-times; and regular outings and overnights with his incredible grandparents—are helping. He’s probably spent less than five collective minutes in front of a TV screen in his first year, but he already has dozens of books in his section of the family library. We will aspire to sustain this trend, as best we can.
He also listens to lots of different music—jazz, classical, rock, soul, funk—especially in the mornings. (Coltrane, Liszt, and James Brown are among the most played.) We like to think this is magically assisting with optimal brain development on some level. But we also play the obligatory “kid” music in the afternoons (which I find almost intolerable, but who cares what I think?) and lullabies with his evening bottle, just before bedtime.
Plus, it should be said that Kari is an extraordinarily present and nurturing momma: a true natural, as they say. And you should hear her spontaneously roll out the crazy-cool character voices during reading or playtime. Holy shit! This kid is gonna grow up thinking that all moms can whip up these world-class “cartoon” voices, on the spot and in the moment. (Believe me, it is a rare and remarkable skill to do this at her level.) Naturally, our boy seems to really engage with these voices.
And given the loving family he was born into—and the eclectic and exceptional circle of friends that his parents have been blessed to have—this is a lucky kid, to be sure. But with that good fortune comes a lot of responsibility, we feel. So we will continue, above all else, to keep our young man grounded in empathy and gratitude, as best we can.
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It’s About Time…
Virtually every parent Kari and I have talked to has told us, “Enjoy every moment. It all goes by so fast. Next thing you know, he’ll be getting his driver’s license!” Privately, we laugh about this… at least so far. These have been some of the longest days (and nights) of our lives—period! And I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just that time, and our relationship to it, is very different now. The “time/space continuum” of being a hands-on parent is a mirage in that, the days often plod along at a caterpillar’s pace: yet, inexplicably, there seldom seems to be enough time to get all the everyday grind stuff done, like work, daily routines, etc.
I knew going into this adventure I would prioritize being a dad, so I have no real issue about anything that has fallen through the cracks this past year. As for the foundational things I do most every day? Yes: I must continue to keep them rolling, as I have. But I’ve yet to find any predictable rhythm with it all.
Sometimes, after a full day of being a father, evening rolls in and I will engage the norm: lift some weights, go for a run, hit the drums, take a shower, do some writing… then limp off to bed at 3:00 or 4:00 AM… only to awaken an hour or two later at 5:00 when “the big man” wakes up. (I usually try to take the first shift.) It can be pretty fucking brutal. And then I have to try and grab a little nap-time at some point. This, by the way, is not the norm, as we often have some help around here during the day. But some kind of all-nighter is usually necessary once or twice a week, just to try and get caught back up again. I have a feeling this will be an ongoing theme.
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And with that, I will bring this to a close for fear of lulling you all to sleep. Now, finally, I understand why parents always carry on about their boring offspring and the unremarkable trials and tribulations associated with their rearing. Now… I get it. Hell, I have even taken an interest in other folk’s children in public and regularly engage with them about kids and parenting. Before this, Please, I would silently plead as someone was pulling out their phone to show me a picture of their ugly-ass kid. Please… one or two pics max. A cat or dog pic? No problem. Keep ’em coming. But a kid pic or vid? Please. But now, I’m afraid I’ve plunged those very depths myself, and I wonder when my friends’ patience will expire (if it hasn’t already) and I will have to keep the pics “in-house only” for immediate family.
Of course, the exception here is that our kid is legit gorgeous—for real! Motherfucker should be on a Pamper’s box. But that’s another story…
What if I designated a letter of the alphabet to 26 different drums, and then created a new language of drumming by “dryping” (drumming + typing) words or phrases?
You have likely seen a photo or vid of me in the middle of a huge set of drums, many of which feature a letter of the alphabet displayed on the head. Well, it was recently pointed out to me that, with the exception of a few Newsletter or social posts, and a few buried mentionings on my blog and website, there is really no easily accessible place of detailed explanation or sampling of the whole “Alphabet Drumming” concept, which I’ve been kicking around now for well over a decade. So, I would like to offer that here, just to finally give it its due coverage.
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The Birth of Alphabet Drumming
The year was 2008. I was “temporarily” living in a two-room office/practice space at an industrial complex in North Hollywood, CA. On one side of the space was a gigantic 26-piece drum kit; on the other was my desk, multiple shelves of books, a couch where I slept, and a few other food/clothing essentials (small refrigerator, blender, suitcase, etc.). These were barren, yet highly-creative, times.
One night, I was working on a new book, contemplating elevated creative processes and pondering how we humans expand, evolve, and get better. It was pushing 4:00 AM, and my mind was veering off into some strange, sleep-deprived territories, as I sat at the laptop, pecking away. I was considering the key differences between the “right” and “left” sides of the brain, and how so many of our greatest thinkers and artists showed tremendous development and engagement of both sides (because this is what we practice room-dwellers who don’t drink or do drugs think about!).
I recalled that left-brain function has to do with tangible, structured things like logic, letters, words, numbers, analysis, lists, form, and language. Right-brain function is more abstract and creative-oriented, dealing with color, music, rhythm, imagination, daydreaming, space, and dimension. And that, to reach our true intellectual and creative potential, we need to develop and condition both aspects of the brain, even if our primary expression is based largely toward the left (as a scientist) or toward the right (as an artist). I figured that, despite the extreme left-brain elements of drumming, it was ultimately a right-brain endeavor, because it involves music, rhythm, conveying a feeling, and so forth. So… my question of the night was, How could I integrate more left-brain into my practice or process?
And then, in an epiphanic flash, it hit me: I am a drummer. I am a writer. I have precisely 26 drums and… coincidentally, there are 26 letters in the alphabet. What if assigned a different letter to each one of my drums, then “spelled out” various words or phrases, in rhythm, creating a unique language of patterns that could, quite literally, expand my drumming vocabulary?
Whoa. Interesting. But why?
Because to construct musical riffs and patterns in accordance with a writing modality would require a radically unconventional approach to drumming. How might this expand my technique, as well as my creative pool of ideas? What might these various words or phrases sound like? And how accomplished would I have to become in these new techniques to fluidly pull this off?
Obviously, this would be a fairly mechanical idea at first. But it would no doubt lead to the creation of a number of different note patterns, groupings, and combinations I would have never stumbled across before. And once I established a flow with these new “vocabulary words,” so to speak, then I could bring more right-brain musicality and artistry into the ultimate execution of them.
My dreamy mind was suddenly jolted into the moment, as if a cold bucket of water had been poured over my head.
And so the journey began…
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A Starting Point
Integrating the word D-R-U-M-M-I-N-G into a groove was one of the first ideas I ever tried (although I didn’t film it until years later):
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Lab Work: Project Alphabet Drumming
The first two things I realized when I actually took a shot at assigning letters to my drums were:
1. I needed to relegate the letters only to drums I hit by hand (as opposed to my various kick drums), so my feet would be free to do things independently from the alphabet stuff, and;
2. All drums with letters needed to be reconfigured and mounted together as close as I could get ’em, so I could more efficiently “spell out” the words. Some of those extreme left-to-extreme right (or vice-versa) leaps to reach letters made it nearly impossible to get any real fluidity happening when dryping certain words.
Of course, I still wanted all those other various sound sources to the extreme left and right of me. But this meant I would have to fill out sections of the kit with, essentially, an extra row or two of drums so the entire alphabet could be contained within a 180-degree sphere.
This led to my initial version of the setup, which looked like this. (Notice I didn’t initially label which letters were assigned to which drums. More on that in a moment):
And here’s a vid I shot using this setup. Oddly, this is one of the only vids I could find with this configuration of the Alphabet Kit (which I typically refer to as the Alpha Kit). I did a series of 3 or 4 takes of playing just the “timbale” side of the kit on this original configuration before the 360-degree version. I posted one or two of these on YouTube with not much thought… but would never wind up posting another playing vid from the Alpha Kit for nearly a decade! Not sure why.
But this setup was just the beginning of where it would wind up.
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A New Twist on Sabbath
This groove is from my instrumental version of Black Sabbath’s “Supernaut,” and it is indicative of how I usually stumble into new ideas on the Alpha Kit. In this case, I was jamming around with a Latin-linear funk-rock groove with the cowbell, thinking about the song… and the band… and I thought, Wow… Sabbath… Supernaut…. cool… Hey, wait a minute: S-A-B-B-A-T-H. I played it. It sounded interesting. Then I incorporated it into the pattern. Same with S-U-P-E-R-N-A-U-T. It had a cool swing about it, so I squeezed it in, as well. It took a little wedging at first, but then, the two words added an interesting call-and-response kind of feel to this revised pattern. It sounded really musical to me, so I kept it.
Here is the original notation:
Note: Letter color designates sticking—Red = right hand; Blue = left hand. Meanwhile, the circled noteheads are viewed as additional sound sources, as opposed to additional letters: in this case, a “timbale” and a floor tom.
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Going 360
The final big step in the basic evolution of the Alpha Kit was adding a whole other front section so the kit would be 360 degrees. Why
1) At the time, I figured if I ever played the kit live, I wouldn’t want my back to the audience the whole show, and;
2) I figured having a more conventional set-up (the front-facing portion) would give me a chance to play more conventionally when appropriate, so the kit would represent the proverbial best of both worlds.
Here is one of the earlier shots of this transformation:
And here’s one of the only vids I have shortly after adding the front half… although I’m mainly just jamming around on the Alpha side of the kit, exploring ideas.
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About the Letters and Set-Up
As for how I chose to arrange the letters on the drums…
Why not just approximate a computer keyboard with the set-up?
This concept was never about the mere novelty of trying to create a drum set-up that replicated a giant computer keyboard, and then, essentially, engaging in some kind of typing-with-drum-sticks routine. Besides, trying to replicate the traditional “QWERTY” keyboard layout with a drum kit would be a logistical nightmare, in terms of maintaining any kind of efficient drumming ergonomics. Instead, this concept was always about playing a kit that was set up to my liking, and then assigning letters according to that set-up, so I could aspire to play unusual things as I spelled out words in rhythm. This way, I could add these alphabet drumming techniques to my current, expanding arsenal—and that was the point: To evolve and expand… to play wildly different things than I otherwise would’ve (or could’ve) via traditional/conventional means.
And so, I ultimately chose to lay out the letters in a simple 1/2-and-1/2 kind of format: The first half of the alphabet is basically arranged in order from B to M (snare drum is A) on the left hemisphere of the kit, and N to Z on the right hemisphere of the kit. Also, notice that the five vowels (A, E, I, O, U) are conveniently arranged closest to me, in a circular pattern from the snare to my first floor tom. This was also by design, as I view vowels as “linking” letters to consonants.
To Label the Drums… or Not
At first, I was just going to memorize which letter went with each drum. But not only was this impossibly arduous, it also took away any prayer of contextualizing what I was playing for the viewer. So, as of February 2014, I started adding alphabet decals on the underside of each head. Additionally, the split-second eye-hand connection of being able to read each letter proved to be critical in playing certain alphabet drumming phrases with any degree of speed.
Here are two initial, back-to-back Instagram posts documenting this new development as it went down (with an exceedingly modest number of likes!):
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Speaking of Rumi…
Here’s a basic thematic pattern where I drype some words of the legendary Sufi poet, Rumi. This simple two-bar phrase is part of a larger solo piece I’ve been working on, but I think it’s fascinating how Rumi’s words transpose into drumming that sounds so… well… poetic!
My original notation:
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Here’s where we eventually wound up with regard to something of a “final” setup:
About the Drums
This beautiful monstrosity—as it exists in this photo—has been my primary practice room/solo project drum set for more years now than I can recall. A big chunk of the kit is my original Radial Bridge drum set that Steven Volpp and the Peavey gang built for me back in ’99. Then, once I began to develop the Alphabet Drumming™ concept (as described here), I began to bring in a mish-mash of other drums, and the kit expanded into its present 360-degree design so I can face forward or backward, as it’s essentially two giant kits melded together.
Because I’m more of an accumulator than a collector, I had amassed a wide variety of drums and cymbals in storage near my practice room. And as my vision for this kit expanded through the years, each new piece was brought in as somewhat of a functional placeholder for what would surely, one day, be some mammoth new custom-built drum kit, sparkly and pristine, with its perfect maple shells and glistening brass and chrome. After all, this was just the 1.0 Frankenstein version of the Alpha Kit, right?
But then, somewhere along the way, after countless hours of playing this kit and listening to its glorious tones reverberate around the woodshed, something unexpected happened: the “Frankenstein” nature of the kit became its own unique thing—its own twisted choir of percussion voices—and it simply sounded like no other set of drums I’ve ever heard. In other words, the unorthodox configurations and unconventional drum and cymbal groupings created their own original, collective sound. And I knew that, at least for the foreseeable future, this would be my primary solo kit… just as it is: all 40 drums, 30 cymbals, and 10 foot pedals of it.
Here’s a walk-around tour of the Alpha Kit in its most current configuration:
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The Fine Line Between Pure Music Performance and Performance Art
When the idea of Alphabet Drumming™ first hit me, I thought it was so unique, I began to envision this grandiose, mega-production concept. I saw a huge screen above me and this massive rig, in some theater setting, with each drum triggering its letter onto the screen as I hit it so the audience could read what I was playing, as I was playing it. In my 2015 book, Zentauria, I even wrote about this idea in the context of a drum solo excerpt (minus all of the big screen technology).
But here’s the thing: I quickly figured out that playing these long passages of text, for the most part, best translated when the listener/viewer could read what I was spelling-out. And at that point, I believe we are venturing into more of a performance art vibe, as opposed to something purely musical.
Will I ever pursue the above grandiose idea? Probably. But so far, I have preferred to focus on chunks of text (i.e. “cool new ideas”) in tandem with my other more conventional approaches… which is why most of the examples I’ve actually documented are on the shorter side… so far! (Although I must say, I’ve worked out certain longer pieces of prose and literature through the years that clearly hold up on their own as riveting solo statements.)
PS. I suppose I should mention the other side of the Performance Art piece, as discussed and demonstrated in my above-mentioned book, Zentauria. Ultimately, the aspiration was actually to expand and evolve my approach to drumming by enlisting and optimizing both sides of the brain. So if triggering words and sentences via Alphabet Drumming was my attempt at a left-brain expansion, what would a more creative, abstract right-brain expansion involve? Triggering elaborate lighting effects (including laser-based holographic imagery) so that the “sonic landscapes” I created on the seventy-plus sound sources of the kit had a spellbinding visual component—almost like an undulating Kandinsky or Pollack painting of light, morphing its way through an infinite series of variations. But this, my friends, is another part of the journey that we will get to another time.
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A Few More Samples For Your Viewing Pleasure!
Here are a few more clips covering different aspects of the Alpha Kit in action:
“I Have a Dream”
Here’s an example of an iconic phrase, “played” via Alphabet Drumming.
On Dr. King’s birthday one year, I was doodling around in the practice room and started spelling out—in rhythm—the tail end of his infamous “I Have a Dream” speech. Eventually, I made a quick vid of it. Here it is:
Here are my original notes, scribbled on the back of some random index card:
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“I Wanna Rock”
This is another practice room video of initially working out this Alphabet Drumming™ groove for the chorus of Twisted’s “I Wanna Rock.” (I was looking to include a funky instrumental interlude of this tune on an upcoming recording.) Once again, this vid was never intended for public consumption… just a pre-production vid for my own reference (hence the typical self-scolding at the tail end!).
You’ll also notice that, at times, I will hit other lettered drums here or there—typically at the end of a phrase—to fill in a groove. But I’m viewing them more as a supporting sound source, as opposed to a letter integral to the spelling of something. After all, the Alphabet Drumming™ concept is just a means to a greater end: different-sounding shit!
PS. And yes, the kick drums were always meant to be used for fill-in notes (or ostinatos in a solo situation), since they don’t represent any letters. This was also by design…
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Obviously, I’m not always looking to “spell-out” words from the Alpha side of the kit. There is an inspiring collection of sound sources over there that can be played with a more conventional approach… even though things don’t tend to sound very conventional (given the unusual combinations of drums at hand). Here are a few examples:
“Sounds for Days…”
Here’s yet another practice room vid that was never intended for public consumption. I’m working on some longer-form phrasing ideas, creating different rhythmic/melodic combinations around the alphabet side of the kit. Again, in these instances, I’m not thinking about spelling… only about the unique collection of sound sources in front of me!
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“Sweeps”
I refer to this particular thing as “sweeps”… which are, in my mind, a drummer’s version of those dense clusters of notes you hear on guitar or saxophone that sound cool when played really fast. To me, they have more of a wall-of-sound “color” kind of vibe, which is nice to have in the toolbox for special solo riff or drum fill occasions. Here’s where it helps to have a shit-load of sound sources!
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“Bending Time”
Here’s a little practice room snippet from a few years back, where I’m working on some odd-note phrasings. The time remains “in 4,” but I’m experimenting mainly with some 5-note groupings to create some tension (with only a minor “self-scolding” at the end!)
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“Multi-Voice Groovin'”
And from the front side of the kit, here’s a little multi-voice improvisation where we keep a very basic kick/snare groove chugging along, while we integrate multi hats and cowbells.
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If you have made it all the way here to the end… I’m impressed! Thank you, and good night!
BR
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Dom Famularo was a beloved and exceptional drummer, teacher, human, businessman, and friend, who lived an exemplary life doing things his way—and inspiring thousands in the process. It’s been weeks since Dom has passed and, frankly, I’ve dreaded writing about it… mainly because his life and essence are so difficult to justly embody in a brief tribute like this. And yet, I gotta give it a shot…
In reflecting on my friend, the thing that stands out the most to me about Dom is the constant, never-wavering amount of enthusiasm that poured forth from this guy, day after day, decade after decade—reliably, consistently, and genuinely. He was always so on, that I would often wonder when he ever had a chance to recover and recharge. And I don’t mean “on“ in any kind of unauthentic way. This was clearly his natural state: High vibrational. Relentlessly optimistic. And pure to the core in his love for drums, drumming, and mostly… drummers.
In my next memoir, Will Drum For Food, I zero in on the 90s and that crazy decade-plus when my focus shifted to solo artist and touring clinician. Naturally, I had already written an initial segment about Dom long before his passing. I’d like to share that here, picking up from around ’89 or ’90:
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Renowned clinician, Dom Famularo, had recently been hired by Sabian in a new Director of Education role. As such, he was coming to LA to meet up with some of Sabian’s West Coast clinicians… including yours truly. Everyone knew Dom. He was a staple in the drumming community: an experienced clinician who had a thriving teaching practice in New York, with an encyclopedic knowledge of timeless drumming techniques and the classic drummers who perpetuated them, from Buddy Rich to famed teacher, Jim Chapin.
As a clinician, Dom had his own unique and effective trip happening, with an almost vaudevillian craftiness to his presentations that radiated equal parts motivation, real-deal drumming knowledge, life wisdom, and humor. And perhaps best of all, the guy could really play. His feet, at that time, were something of an anomaly: super fast and accurate, in an era that predated all of the scorching double-bass blast-beat stylings that have become so prevalent today. And now, he was wisely expanding his offerings to the corporate level, hiring out his expertise in the educational realm to key drum, cymbal, and accessories companies.
When my appointment with Dom was locked down, I’ll be honest: I was concerned. I was just getting into a good groove with my new “on the ground” way of doing clinics, and I was thinking Dom might have other ideas about how I should proceed moving forward. But as it turned out, there was no need for concern. Dom was already familiar with what I was up to and was all for it. He simply offered a few of his personal insights into what has worked for him as a clinician, and we had a great ol’ time comparing notes, brainstorming new ideas and, as always… laughing it up. (You always laughed a lot around Dom.)
Dom would become a good friend and trusted advisor in the years ahead, walking that perfect line between corporate ally and fellow clinician. Specifically, over the next decade, he was an indispensable confidant for running things by and discussing various challenges I might have with the colorful cast of characters in my ever-expanding orbit of drum companies, drum shops, and music stores. He would also run reconnaissance and do clinics in burgeoning new markets around the world—from China to New Zealand to the Canary Islands(!)—and get things up and running for the rest of us. Through the years, he would truly earn his trade title of “Drumming’s Global Ambassador.”
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Dom Famularo may not have been a household name, as he was never linked to any specific artist or band. That wasn’t his thing. And yet, virtually every drummer knew who he was, not only because he could play his ass off, but because he carved a singularly unusual niche in the industry and owned it.
In his own words:
“I have studied with the Masters, and what they passed on to me was an enthusiasm for self-expression. The fun in my life has been in challenging myself to be the best I can be. But rather than limit myself to just playing in a band, I wanted to share my talent to pass on the musical and philosophical values I’ve developed, so others can find and enjoy themselves the way I have.”
With this inspired ethos, Dom stepped into the portal between the drumming world’s ever-evolving present, and its sacrosanct past, holding those mystical keys to all of the master’s secrets: From Stone to Reed, from Chapin to Gladstone, from Moeller to Morello, from Papa Joe to Philly Joe, from Krupa, Rich, and Bellson, to Max, Elvin, and Tony—with stories galore on one and all, and insights, tips, and tricks on what made every master who they were. And this lineage would extend onward… from Cobham, Garibaldi and Gadd, to Phillips, Smith and Weckl… along with countless other contemporary masters, most of whom Dom shared the stage with at one point or another.
This knowledge, coupled with his engaging communication skills, massive personality, generous acknowledgment of others, and fiery soloing chops, made him the industry’s go-to guy for so many important roles. He emceed countless international drum festivals, spearheaded and/or supported endless educational programs, and was a returning favorite for clinics and master classes at stores and schools around the planet. These activities would grow in tandem with his various company affiliations, publishing ventures, and expanding lecture markets.
His was an active, adventurous life… and a soul-stirring example for creative folks of all stripes on how to maximize and optimize your talents. He literally created his own category of “brand,” then thrived within it for years… without competition! It was an awesome thing to observe, and something I feel we would all do well to consider in our own journeys, by simply asking ourselves: If I were to become the best possible version of myself, what new category of distinction might I solely be able to thrive in? It’s a heavy notion.
But “Fam”—as many of his compadres addressed him—was first and foremost a teacher. This never changed, even as he logged hundreds of thousands of miles in air travel through the years. He always managed to carve out time for teaching at his studio in Long Island, where his assistant booked students from around the world, weeks in advance, blocking out eight-plus hour teaching days on an already blackened calendar. He never lost the fire for straight-up one-on-one teaching… and a kajillion students through the years were grateful for this.
Hell, even his teaching studio was legendary: a stand-alone, climate-controlled, and soundproofed structure he built behind his house, featuring four exacting workstations, each video-ready so the student could leave with a compilation of each lesson’s highlights. He called it his Wizdom Drum Shed, and I believe he even franchised out the design and concept to other teachers.
From the Wizdom Drum Shed…
No surprise there. Dom was always ahead of the curve with biz and technology, and among the first to teach remotely via video lessons. When COVID hit and so many musicians were scrambling to get their Zoom game together for lessons or sessions, I’m sure Dom was laughing: this had been business as usual for him for over a decade by that point!
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Mostly, I will remember Dom’s friendship. I will remember our annual meetings in Anaheim throughout the glory years of N.A.M.M., getting caught up on everything, as we set hopeful sights on the year ahead. And I will remember his constant encouragement and genuine well-wishes. In fact, on both occasions that I happened to win Drum Magazine’s Clinician of the Year award, I literally found out the same way: from a glowing, congratulatory voice mail from Dom. Both times! But that was Dom… always the first to jump quickly at the opportunity to acknowledge and support another.
Also… Dom was a regular reader of my weekly Newsletter. How do I know? Because, although a newsletter is not an interactive format, and I never really expect to hear from anyone after I press the send button on a new issue, Dom would regularly reply with a quick line… “These are great!” “This is fantastic…” “Incredible edition… keep going!” Etc. That was Dom.
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Earlier in 2023, I had a nice email exchange with Dom about my recent foray into fatherhood. He has three older sons, so he was able to pass along some sage wisdom and warm words of encouragement about being a dad and the importance of family. Again, no surprise there. I always kinda knew that, above all else, his world began and ended with his wife, Charmaine, and “the boys.” Thing is, though, I had no idea how tough his struggle had remained with his cancer battle. I knew it was rough for awhile, as we had a few exchanges along the way. But, true to his essence, he was always so optimistic about everything, I got the impression that he was recovering. And then… boom: I was stunned to hear that he had transitioned. I simply wasn’t prepared.
But as Fam would always say, “Onward and Upward.” That was his mantra. And that is exactly what we will have to tell ourselves, in his memory, moving forward. And I think I speak for all of us in the global drumming community when I say:
“Dom, you have left us quite a legacy. We will attempt to keep it growing, and honor it with our own continual evolution, as we remain kind-hearted and supportive of one another.
We love you, brother…”
BR
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***This article first appeared in the Bobby Rock Newsletter (Nov 2023). To subscribe with your email address, go to:
While out on a road run with Lita Ford several years back, I was sitting alone in a hotel lobby somewhere in the Midwest, waiting to head out to soundcheck. It was mid-December, and the lobby had been transformed into a veritable winter wonderland, as a sizable Christmas tree and an explosion of “Yuletide” decorations gleamed, blinked, and sparkled all around me. A large flat-screen TV was mounted above a fireplace, and I was slowly drawn into the movie that was playing on it. It appeared to be some kind of Christmas-themed film set in some kind of Anytown, USA city, with its quaint town center decorated not unlike the very lobby I sat in. No problemo. I’m a Christmas guy at heart, so I figured I could hang for a minute.
As the movie carried on, I was pulled into the storyline, which, as I recall, involved a good-hearted woman, torn between her tight-ass investment banker of a boyfriend and some quirky, creative good-ol’-boy who she clearly preferred, But… well… there were complications. (Aren’t there always?) Soon, the rom-com cliches began to compound and compile to such a degree, I honestly began to wonder if I was watching some kind of parody of a holiday movie, or if this was legit. In any case, it sure was entertaining, and as I realized this was seriously a thing, it captivated me in a way that I still have trouble fully articulating.
Still… I had to know how it ended. I mean, it was clear how it was going to end, but I wanted to see exactly how they would craft the inevitable: when all hope is lost, she eighty-sixes the business guy and, against all odds, winds up with the quirky guy. More than that, though, I was interested in the mindset of the writers and directors, and the (presumably?) women who watched this stuff. Hey, no judgment here… just a little “Venus & Mars” curiosity. I mean, what the actual fuck is to be derived from this genre of film? I wondered.
Just then, my bandmates began to converge on the scene and it was time to get in the awaiting van outside. But I took note of the familiar greeting card logo in the corner of the screen and off we went. I was determined to revisit this phenomenon ASAP.
And so it was that my Hallmark Christmas Movie obsession began.
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When people hear that I am a little preoccupied with Hallmark Christmas flicks, they often presume I’m kidding. But truly, I find the whole genre fascinating. In the years since my “baptism by fireplace” in that hotel lobby, I have logged some serious hours scoping these films… every Christmas season, and even during “Christmas in July” where, you got it: these motherfuckers play Christmas movies around the clock in the heat of the summer!
Initially, my rule-to-self was that I had to at least be logging in some hours on the practice pad as I watched so as to not completely waste that precious time. And I have continued this tradition to some degree—although, from time to time, it is not beyond me to get the popcorn poppin’ and treat a Hallmark Christmas movie as a special viewing occasion all its own.
But Again… Why?
I’ve always found it interesting to examine any pop culture phenomenon from a socio-psychological viewpoint and observe what itch is being scratched for the viewer—or, essentially, what longings are being satiated via all of the signature conventions that are going down in said genre. With Hallmark Christmas films, the conventions feel extremely foreign to me, and the lifestyles, traditions, protocols, interests, and motivating forces of virtually every character in these films are so much my polar opposite, it is strangely enthralling to immerse myself in “the Hallmark Way:” to have a vicarious experience of a world that has been bleached clean of any real adversity, edginess, grit, suffering, darkness, or high-stakes losses. This is a landscape where it all works out for a change, goddamnit! The good folks always win in the end and, hell, even the “villains” (of which there are very few) get off pretty easy.
Beyond that, it’s the subtext of the storylines that has me most interested. When Superman defeats the bad guys, it’s simply a heightened variation on the everyday trials and tribulations we all face in our daily “Hero’s Journey” (albeit much more interesting to watch). Hallmark is essentially offering the same here: a more warm and fuzzy depiction of love relationships, blanketed in the nostalgia, sentiment, and cozy comfort of one of our most beloved holidays. And it does all this in the context of certainty, predictability, and consistency. You know what you’re gonna get when you crack open a Hallmark film, and this is not such a bad thing given the unpredictability of life in the modern age.
Field Notes from the Wintery Trenches
As a result of my diligent study of these films, for better or worse, I now fancy myself as somewhat of a default expert on the genre. (Perhaps not my greatest achievement in life, but it’s something!) In addition to the original scenario described above—good woman opts out of a relationship with stereotypical biz guy to go with the more salt-of-the-earth type—here are a couple more of the most common big-picture themes I’ve seen recycled through multiple variations of these films:
The successful, business-minded woman who “has it all”—except for a partner because she’s so busy with her career—finds her dream man in the unlikely form of a simple, earnest guy whose slight anti-materialism leanings prove healthy for her.
The sassy, hard-working woman becomes entangled with a work-obsessed go-getter—with a good heart lurking beneath the layers—and makes him see what’s really important in life (family, love relationships, etc). This theme will often get the “royal treatment,” as it can literally involve a prince from some fictitious European country. Often, she will initially be unaware of his stature, thus inadvertently treating the pesky royal like a peasant (which then further endears her to him).
Here are a couple common themes for leading men:
The mega-ambitious guy gives all his attention to his work, at the expense of family or a loved one. And then, he meets a sweet, unassuming woman who influences more substantive priorities.
As a mirror scenario of a female theme, the pleasant, unassuming guy falls for a woman saddled with emotional wounds and various complications. In the end, he shows her what’s most important in life.
Yes, I know I’m speaking in the most primitive of boy/girl, Venus/Mars platitudes here, as I highlight cliches about gender preference. But this is what makes it all so joyfully pedestrian! In a world where gender stereotypes and sexual identities are all co-mingling in an ever-evolving expansion of normality, our friends at Hallmark are sticking close to the script of what many in our beloved mainstream still wish to watch play out.
But even Hallmark has expanded on this over the past two seasons. Read on!
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The Top 15 Things You Might Expect to See in a Hallmark Christmas Movie:
When we talk about conventions, we are, of course, referring to those predictable attributes that are shuffled around from film to film in varying ways. Here are a few you will often see multiple times:
1. Deceased Parent(s): One of the two main love interest characters will have at least one deceased parent. This is presumably to magnify their inherent longing for family, thus raising the stakes on the new relationship working out.
2. The Unexpected Moment of Chemistry: There is always a barely-concealed moment of attraction that happens when the two love interests initially find themselves in close proximity for some reason, like decorating a tree, for instance. This is followed by an awkward moment of embarrassment and overwhelm, as if they are so surprised by this “lightning strike” of attraction that they must recoil back into a safer, more platonic territory of denial—at least for the immediate. This sets the stage for the inevitable first-kiss scenario. Which leads us to…
3. The Interrupted First Kiss: With alarming predictability, when our two protagonists finally ease in for that magical first kiss, they will almost always get interrupted, further delaying the tension-release moment of satiation for the viewer.
4. “Speechless” Street Vendors: The aspiring couple will often encounter a street vendor as they walk around some kind of outdoor setting, usually to get some roasted chestnuts (or similar). And while they will thank the vendor, and the vendor might acknowledge their gesture, he won’t actually speak! This is undoubtedly because speaking roles require a notably higher rate-of-pay for the actor, and Hallmark clearly has a budget to adhere to. (I also recall seeing this phenomenon with a bartender in one film, and a trucker in another, but you get the idea. These roles are “speechless!”)
5. The Interrupted Moment of Truth: If one character is hiding something significant from another—or if they have something important to reveal to the other—that confessional moment is also often interrupted, thus setting the stage for a deeper web of “deceit” or misunderstanding that brings more conflict to the storyline.
6. The Grand Entrance: The female protagonist enters a room, usually via a majestic staircase, wearing a stunning dress, at a “high-stakes” social gathering, and everyone gazes at her—spellbound.
7. Engaging Tradition: One of several Christmas traditions is always tidily interwoven into the film: Snowball fights, Christmas cookie decorating, going to select a tree, or ice-skating, are among the most common. These activities, of course, reinforce the holiday theme, but they also provide a situational impetus to move the plot along.
8. Blatantly-Strategic Diversity in Casting: While it appears that Hallmark has always catered to somewhat of a “white-washed” audience, for as long as I’ve been watching, they routinely include a bit of ethnic diversity in specific casting. The Black boss, the Asian assistant or best friend, the Hispanic or Middle Eastern co-worker and, more recently, the openly gay couple. In fact, here lately, we are finally starting to see more diversity in the lead role casting. (You can do it, Hallmark!)
9. Product placement: This is when an arrangement is struck between a film production company and a product manufacturer to feature said product “organically” within the flow of shooting a scene, as a subtle, “subconscious” form of advertising. The great thing? In Hallmark-Land, it is fortunately not so subtle at all. (Folgers has been one of the biggest offenders of this brand of advertising and it is so great!)
A screenshot from an actual movie!
10. Childhood Reflection: There will almost always be a scene where one of the love interests shares a memory of their past… a “When I was a little girl, my grandmother always used to…” kind of thing. This is certainly not exclusive to Hallmark, but it appears to be a reliable ingredient in their formula, in an effort to bring depth and relatability to the characters.
11. Bizarre Travel Schedules: There will often be impending travel plans either on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day thus creating tension and urgency around the love interests being able to hang for the big day. Spoiler Alert: It always works out!
12. The “WTF?” Outburst: Toward the end of the movie—in a scene that often precipitates the “all is lost” moment—one of the love interests will unexpectedly go off the rails at the other in an irrational outburst of impatience and vitriol. (Perhaps to move the plot along more quickly and definitively?) This is not as common as many of these others, but man… it’s pure psychotic gold when it happens, prompting a heartfelt “what the fuck?” from even the most conservative viewer.
13. The Jane Austen Factor: As a blatant shout-out to writer Jane Austen, the Hallmark Christmas writers are not bashful about integrating several of Austen’s signature monikers as character’s first or last names, with “Darcy” and “Bennett” turning up in several films… whose titles are often a play on Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility. Again, this happens less often than some of these other conventions, but it’s worth noticing.
14. The Misunderstanding: There is often a moment where, after everything has been going so well, a simple misunderstanding takes place, and key presumptions are assumed, without any further discussion. This complicates the plot. Example: one of the love interests will see the other in a cozy situation with someone else, often an ex, and presume their loyalties and interests are elsewhere. This, of course, causes a bittersweet derailment to the relationship, with the innocent party now confused at how cold the other one (who misunderstood) has gone. But don’t fear: the misunderstanding will be resolved in the final moments. Which leads us to…
15. The Ultra-Fast Wrap-up: Hallmark generally does not fuck around when it comes to delivering the super-concise bow-tie ending and moving on to the quick credit roll. Final resolutions and the movie-ending kiss almost always take place at :58 or :59… and then we are on to the next movie straight away, without any commercials! In fact, if you’ve ever recorded a Hallmark flick, be careful: At the beginning of your recording, you will almost always catch the tail-end of the previous movie, thus revealing how that one ends. (Uncool, Hallmark!)
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If you haven’t seen a Hallmark Christmas film… go scope a few. They will play right up until January 1, and then you will be shit out of luck—until the heat of summer for the “Christmas in July” run!
How can something so wrong, ultimately be so right?
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***This article first appeared in the Bobby Rock Newsletter (Dec 2022). To subscribe with your email address, go to:
Jocko Willink is the prototypical badass from hell. He’s a former Navy Seals commander, author, Jiu-Jitsu black belt and dojo owner, entrepreneur, and podcast host. He’s also a compelling motivator/philosopher/speaker-of-wisdom type of guy who has gained massive popularity over the last handful of years.
One of my favorite books of his (with co-author and biz partner, Leif Babin) is Extreme Ownership. This book is an eye-opener, for sure… but really, it’s the mantra of those two words that I wanted to pass along today.
It’s an intriguing notion: taking leadership lessons from the battlefields—where the stakes could not be any higher (life and death)—and applying them to everyday life situations and relationships. This is a big part of what Jocko writes about in all of his books, and he and his co-author even have a corporate consulting business where this is the general theme of their work
Extreme Ownership, as a concept, is all about taking 100% responsibility for virtually everything in your life. Certainly, it’s an ambitious ideal, and not one that will immediately resonate with most folks. “You mean I have to take the blame for this? But it wasn’t my fault! It was _______ (fill in the blank.)
Indeed, I get the point. But here’s the paradox:
Human nature might have us believe that we are empowered if we can pass the buck elsewhere, since the blame would then (supposedly) be directed elsewhere. But this is actually not empowering, because if the fault was “out of your hands,” then that means it’s something that happened to you that, by your own admission, you couldn’t do anything about it. This is a form of victimhood, and it is not exactly empowering!
However, if all of the responsibility rests on your shoulders, then, while it might be tough to accept all the responsibility, you are now empowered: you can fix it, you can take preventative measures so it won’t happen again, or you can find the silver lining in the situation so it has a happy ending. But you can’t really do any of these things in earnest if there are no assurances that it won’t keep happening because it remains out of your control.
It Starts With You
“Oh man… sorry I’m late. My alarm didn’t go off!”
So it’s the alarm’s fault?
Jocko gives an excellent example of a no-excuses approach to taking personal responsibility for your life, starting with getting your ass out of bed in the morning. It involves having three different kinds of alarm clocks! Here’s what Jocko says:
“Discipline starts every day when the first alarm clock goes off in the morning. I say ‘first alarm clock’ because I have three, as I was taught by one of the most feared and respected instructors in SEAL training: one electric, one battery-powered, one windup. That way, there is no excuse for not getting out of bed, especially with all that rests on that decisive moment. The moment the alarm goes off is the first test; it sets the tone for the rest of the day. The test is not a complex one: when the alarm goes off, do you get up out of bed, or do you lie there in comfort and fall back to sleep? If you have the discipline to get out of bed, you win—you pass the test. If you are mentally weak for that moment and you let that weakness keep you in bed, you fail. Though it seems small, that weakness translates to more significant decisions. But if you exercise discipline, that too translates to more substantial elements of your life.”
Hardcore shit… from the moment you wake up!
Mr. Hardcore, himself!
Passing the Buck in Biz
I’ve heard Jocko talk about consulting with, for example, a vice president of some big company, who goes on to lament about an employee—let’s call him Steve—who’s been dropping the ball.
“What kind of training do you have in place to prevent this from happening?” Jocko might ask.
“Oh, he’s not under me,” the VP replies, “That would be on Paul, since he’s Steve’s boss.”
“Oh, I see,” Jocko might say. “Well, who’s Paul’s boss?”
“Uhhh, I am. But….”
And, of course, there are no “buts” in the world of Extreme Ownership. The VP learns that it’s actually on him to properly prepare Paul for better leadership, so Steve has a better chance of not fucking something up. Specifically, the VP might propose to Paul that they create a system to check and double-check Steve’s work: Or a back-up plan to circumvent such a mistake; Or perhaps a few new protocols that might reduce the prospects of Steve making such an error to begin with.
Customer Relations, Too? (New Biz Blues)
I have a good friend who started a really hip and innovative new business. It’s so innovative, in fact, that many of his ideal customers don’t fully understand how much it could help them, nor have they warmed up to some of the basic learning curve elements of how this “new model” works. Consequently, many either pass on signing up or become somewhat of a languishing participant. In either case, this drives him crazy. I get it.
However, I also remind my friend that his customer’s lack of knowledge (of their industry) or motivation (to embrace his new platform’s protocols) are on him, not them. The Extreme Ownership mindset would say, “Okay… they’re not getting it. What can I do to better educate, serve, and inspire my potential (and existing) customers so they can best experience all of the excellent benefits of the platform.”
Because, here again, waiting for your customers to come around and see the genius in what you’ve created is not a very empowering position to be in… especially if you can’t keep the doors open long enough for them to come around! After all, what’s self-evident, logical, or even superior in our opinion may not be to others. And if the “others” are your customers, that’s an issue that’s your responsibility to solve.
Beyond Biz: Owning it All in Relationships
I once heard a quote that always stuck with me: You are 100% responsible for every relationship you’re in. Of course, this sounds lopsided at first glance, right? Shouldn’t relationships be 50/50? Well, according to the Extreme Ownership model, I believe that would be a hard no. It’s 100% on you, and here’s why… at least as I see it:
Relationships are an often dynamic affair, requiring a certain amount of give-and-take, acceptance, concessions, and allowances from time to time. Sometimes, our friends, loved ones, neighbors, or co-workers might act out of character and freak about something, causing them to say or do something regrettable to us. This is when it becomes more of a 90% us/10% them proposition as we patiently diffuse the situation and/or delay reaction until the clouds can clear. If we can do this, we’ll usually get an apology or explanation later and all goes back to normal. (If not, all still goes back to normal!) And, of course, there are times when, fortunately, our friends, loved ones, neighbors, or co-workers return the favor when we lose our minds and suddenly, we are at 10% and they are at 90%.
But in the case of Extreme Ownership, we are always shooting for 100%, no matter how our friends behave, or how they choose to respond to our indiscretions. End of discussion. Why? Because we are mindful that we are all capable of acting out of character at times and, furthermore, we know we will often find out the real reason behind such behaviors later.
Now, if at some point, the relationship becomes a constant liability to your sanity and you feel like maybe you’ve moved on, then that’s a different story. It might be time to, in fact, move on. But as long as you’re still in it, I say, take it all on.
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These are just a few examples illustrating how Extreme Ownership works. Like anything else, it’s a practice: In any trying moment, the questions are: How can I take responsibility for this? How can I own this? How can I diffuse this? What could I have done to prevent this from happening? What can I do moving forward to ensure this doesn’t happen again? Etc. I have found this practice to be extremely liberating, so to speak!
For more Jocko wisdom, Google Jocko Willink and scope some vids and podcasts.
From time to time, I will binge out on a favorite record and listen to it often and intently over a one or two-week period. I will crank it on several different systems at home and then spend some “deep isolation” time with it on a flight somewhere (with my custom-molded in-ear monitors) and really get lost in the tracks. These LPs are usually classic records that I’ve heard a thousand times. But part of my fascination with them is that they are almost always built around the capture of really great “live performances,” even if it was a studio record.
Here lately, the chosen two have been Van Halen’s self-titled debut and Kind of Blue from Miles Davis, two very different records with several major things in common, including great songs, stupendous performances, and exceptional band chemistry. I’m guessing most of you have heard the epic Van Halen debut by now (it’s almost 45 years old!) and, very soon here, I intend to illuminate a behind-the-scenes detail or two about how that fiery VH magic was captured in the studio.
Today, I thought I might offer up a few fun facts about the recording of Kind of Blue, largely considered the most influential jazz record of all time, and certainly the best-selling at five million copies. Why? Because I think it’s useful to revisit the mundane particulars of these sessions through the filter of just how huge the record would become. This is yet another thing Kind of Blue has in common with the VH debut: It appeared to be just another day at the office where, the right group of folks, merged with the right collection of songs, at precisely the right time, in the right studio, and with the right producer.
Most sobering about it? What you are hearing are five guys in a room playing complete takes of the songs! Of course, this is pretty much standard protocol for any traditional jazz record, even many recorded today. But in this current era where digital recording technologies are the norm—and individual performances can either be cobbled together or “tweaked” to varying degrees—capturing complete, unaltered performances has become something of a rarity. And this is precisely why I believe I still lean into the older records. I wanna hear motherfuckers play, imperfections and all. I wanna feel like I’m seated behind the glass, in a darkened control room, watching that serendipitous and mystical confluence of creative and logistical x-factors unfold before my eyes and ears!
Amen.
A Few Field Notes
Logistics: Kind of Blue was recorded in only nine hours, over two different days, on three-track tape, at Columbia Records’ 30th Street Studio in NYC, in the spring of ’59. Although there were some false starts and, perhaps, an alternate take here or there, each of the five classic tracks that wound up on the record was a complete start-to-finish band pass, performed live together in the studio.
The Band: Miles on trumpet; John Coltrane on tenor sax; Cannonball Adderley on alto sax; Bill Evans on piano for four tracks, Wynton Kelly on one; Paul Chambers on bass, and Jimmy Cobb on drums.
From the Kind of Blue sessions
The Budget: Miles was supposedly paid a standard three-thousand dollar contractual advance as the signed artist, while his band—including Coltrane and Adderley—worked for standard union wages: $48.50 per three-hour session, of which there were three (over two different tracking dates). That’s $145.50 per guy (although it was rumored later that Coltrane and Adderley received an additional $100 as a “bonus”). Point is, for the price of a small advance, modest session fees for six guys, a little studio time, four reels of tape, and a piano tuner, Capitol Records has profited nicely on this project through the decades!
The Influencer: Pianist Bill Evans was at the end of his short tenure with the band as they were recording this record, but his influence on Miles to take a deeper dive into “modal” composition and improvisation was a key component in making this record so special. Evans supposedly also felt like he should have gotten a writing credit for two tracks on the album (where all royalties went to Davis exclusively). But no worries. It’s been said that Miles cut Bill a single check for $25 at some point to appease him. (I doubt he was appeased!) Sadly, they would never work together again, although it’s hard to say if the biz arrangement was a definitive factor in this.
“Oops”: The album sequence was selected by album producer, Irwin Townsend… who got confused by the session notes and incorrectly listed tracks four and five as “Flamenco Sketches” and “All Blues” (when “All Blues” was actually first). 50,000 albums (all now collector’s items) were out there before this was corrected. Also, Cannonball Adderley’s last name was misspelled (listed as Adderly) but, for reasons unknown, this was not fixed until 1997!
Bottom Line: If it’s been a minute since you’ve heard this record, give it a hard listen ASAP. It is magnificent on every level. If you’ve never heard it, check it out pronto. And if you’re not really a jazz fan but are open to owning just one “go-to” jazz record, I say, this would be The One!
An Unfortunate Twist of Fate
On August 25, 1959, eight days after the release of Kind of Blue, Miles was nearing the end of a two-week run at Birdland in NYC. After his set that night, he was accompanying a white woman out to a cab, when he had some kind of an exchange with a couple cops. Next thing you know, the fucking nightstick came out, and Miles took some blows to the head before being carted off to jail, battered and bloody. He was charged with disorderly conduct and assault, and his “cabaret card” was taken away. (The cabaret card was a required form of ID for anyone working in NY-based entertainment establishments that served alcohol back then.) Without that card, Miles couldn’t work. And so, instead of stepping into a rocket-ride fast track toward musical immortality with his bad-ass Kind of Blue line-up, the band split up!
News of this went around the world
It would take a minute for his “charges” to be reduced and his card given back. But by then, it has been noted that creative mojo and momentum were lost for Miles over the next several years. He would still play and record, but there wasn’t any new writing to speak of, and he didn’t expand on the moody modal approaches he had explored so beautifully on Kind of Blue.
What if? What if that bullshit never happened?
A Happy Coda
In 1964, Miles put together what became known as his Second Great Quintet in a classic line-up featuring Herbie Hancock on piano, Wayne Shorter on sax, Ron Carter on bass, and Tony Williams on drums. Their first record together, ESP, came out in ’65, and man, this shit was crazy over-the-top and way ahead of its time. In fact, not only was this line-up my favorite of Miles, but it might be my favorite ensemble of all time—period. But that’s another story. The good news here? Miles got back on track in a big-time way and would shake up the jazz world through ’68 with this unit… before reinventing himself several more times prior to his passing in ’91.
What a legacy.
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This post was originally published in the Bobby Rock Newsletter. To sign up for your weekly hit of writing and news, or to scope out our extensive archives, click HERE.
Within these three coveted objectives, there is a lot we can learn about ourselves and why we do what we do. So let’s talk about “The Big Three” in broad strokes at first, and then I’ll offer a reflection that just might provide some burning clarity about how we are living our lives.
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One of the more resonant contemplations I’ve heard about Fame, Fortune, and Freedom comes from entrepreneur, author, and founder of CD Baby, Derek Sivers. The context? He was addressing a roomful of aspiring musicians at some large conference, imploring them to consider which of these three objectives was most important to them in their music biz pursuits. His message, as I heard it, was (paraphrasing), You can likely achieve any single one of these objectives you want, but you must actively choose one, since you can’t have all three.
That’s quite a contemplation, but there is also great pragmatism is this idea of knowing which one is most important to you. Why? Because, in general, the achievement of each of these objectives requires vastly different actions. And as an ambitious musician with only 24 hours per day to pursue the dream, it’s helpful to be laser-focused about what you get up and do every day.
When I heard Sivers riffing on this, I immediately saw the universal Truth of the matter as it might apply to anyone, even if you’re not in the entertainment business. (More on that in a moment.) But how could it be that the Big Three are so different in their individual attainments? Doesn’t, for example, fame and fortune go hand-in-hand? That would be an emphatic no, although this is one of the more common misconceptions about fame, particularly where the music business is concerned. I can’t tell you how many successful bands or solo artists I’ve seen through the years who had at least one huge record under their belt (fame), but who were still scraping by, waiting for the windfall to hit (fortune).
Even in the movie biz, the fame/fortune disconnect exists, big time. When Hilary Swank did Boys Don’t Cry as a low-budget indie film, she was only paid $3000. So when she went in to get some simple cold meds from the doctor, she was told her health insurance wouldn’t cover the $250 med bill. When she called her SAG-AFTRA health insurance peeps to see what the hell was going on, they told her she hadn’t earned the annual minimum that year to qualify for coverage. The maddening irony? As she stood at the podium accepting her Best Actress Academy Award that year, she didn’t even have any health insurance! This is fame, minus fortune, in action.
And if that fame-seeking young musician or actor should hit a windfall of fortune early, the odds of them hanging on to it are slim. After all, fame does not ensure the skills to properly manage a fortune: in fact, quite the opposite. If fame is your main thing, you will likely confuse your fame for fortune, buy a bunch of stupid shit (in part, to perpetuate the expression of fame), and throw cash around like it was Monopoly money. I’ve witnessed this kind of thing quite a bit through the years and, well… yes, I’ve even experienced it first-hand! And this is often a familiar happening with other entertainers, athletes, and public figures who confuse this issue.
Want to see real fortune in entertainment? Look behind the scenes for those record company and TV/movie studio folks you’ve never heard of. They don’t prioritize personal fame beyond, perhaps, recognition in the industry—which is helpful in their pursuit of more fortune. Instead, they are happy to wake up in a big-ass house, with the crashing waves of Malibu as a backdrop to breakfast, while they strategize and manage their assets: famous entertainers who often don’t earn what they earn.
This is not to say, of course, that fortune-savvy entertainers don’t exist. They do. But this is usually because they have consciously prioritized fortune over fame, and it is evident in their thought processes: how they handle their business, which projects they choose to pursue, and how they might prioritize their days in balancing business matters with artistic ones. It often looks very different than those entertainers who prioritize fame or freedom which, of course, was Sivers’ original point.
I think it’s clear that Fortune is at the top of the list for this guy!
Speaking of freedom… here again, we have more misconceptions. “If I have enough money (fortune), I can essentially buy my freedom, right?” In theory, perhaps. But again, it’s tricky. Building and maintaining your fortune will often require great restraint, delayed gratification, and a host of other left-brain attributes in daily lifestyle choices, many of which feel restrictive or laborious to the freedom-minded. Instead, many freedom-seekers will simplify their financial lives and minimize their “fame-game” activities so they can more easily move about their creative universe with minimal encumbrances. And for as much as they might, at times, covet money—mainly so they don’t have to stress about having enough—and desire more exposure (fame) so they might build a more robust audience to consume their art, they will ultimately default to a lifestyle philosophy that’s uniquely designed to suit their idiosyncratic creative pursuits and protocols.
Me as a poster child for the Freedom option? You bet!
This blog has been a thing in the world since 2007. I have gone through many periods of steady upkeep and writing for it, and many droughts where my focus had drifted elsewhere. As of late, much of my writing time and energy has shifted over to my BR Newsletter, where I have managed to rack up a shit-ton of “content” (don’t you just love that word?) through the course of over 105 editions over the past 2-plus years. I feel like some of my best work lies within those archives… but I also realize that a newsletter is an exclusive forum, so not everyone will get around to signing up, sharing issues, or stumbling across the 300-plus individual posts that comprise all those editions.
With this in mind, I would like to begin updating this blog moving forward with many of the individual posts from the Newsletter archives, as well as exclusive new posts for you guys… my blog gang! So let’s let this be a line in the sand. I look forward to consolidating much of my writing right here, as I also migrate a ton of recent video content from my site to my YouTube channel, where it can be accessible here in key new posts, as well.
Meanwhile, the Newsletter will continue on with its weekly installments and often still feature “the latest and the greatest” before it gets posted here. To subscribe with your email address, go to:
As you might imagine, I believe that having a daily superfood smoothie as one of your meals is the single most important thing you can do for your nutritional well-being. But what else might I recommend for overall health and wellness? I’m glad you asked. Here are three simple (but not always easy) nutritional practices that, over time, will change your life if you consistently integrate them into your regimen. Drink More Water: Proper hydration is foundational to every system in the body functioning optimally. Yet most of us are chronically dehydrated to some degree. Solution? Simply drink more water every day.
Bring a bottle of water to your nightstand before bed every night, then drink as much as you comfortably can just as your feet hit the floor in the AM. No better way to kick-off your morning.
Sip away throughout the day, refilling the bottle as necessary. Make this a new habit.
Drink enough so that 1) you never get too thirsty, and 2) your pee never gets too yellow!
Eat More Legumes – Legumes include beans, peas, and lentils and are among the most underrated and overlooked superfoods around. They are high in protein and healthy carbs and have tons of fiber, which most folks need way more of. Here are a few ideas:
Add a half-a-can of garbanzos or kidney beans to a large salad for a quick, complete meal.
Make a big batch of something like three-bean veggie soup or black bean chili, then enjoy it over multiple meals. You can even freeze some for weeks down the road.
For incredible variety, work a legume-based ethnic-style meal into your weekly rotation: a bean burrito (instead of beef or chicken); a lentil curry dish over rice; an Asian stir-fry with edamame (or tofu), etc.
While this might be a gorgeous photo, it’s way more practical to use canned beans!
Note: If you find that legumes don’t agree with you, it’s likely because you aren’t used to eating them and the ultra-high fiber content can “mix things up” in your belly. If this is the case, try starting out with smaller serving sizes to let your body acclimate. It’s worth it! Eat Less Food – Confucius says, “Hara Hachi Bu,” which basically means, “Eat until you are 80% full.” This is a directive followed by some of the most long-lived cultures of humans on the planet, perhaps most notably, the Okinawans. When we overeat—which happens multiple times a day for many of us—we place a tremendous burden on our digestive system and compromise our assimilation of the nutrients… among a host of many other health catastrophes. Try this:
Sit down for your meals, relax, take your time, chew your food into a “paste” texture before swallowing, tune into your stomach, and simply eat until your hunger is satiated. (Easier said than done, I know.)
When you are most likely to overeat, take 1/3 or 1/4 of the food on your plate and put it into a container before you start eating. This will ensure that you won’t keep shoveling it in beyond the “point of no return.”
If you want to binge out for a special meal here and there, be mindful about it. Plan for it in advance. Look forward to it. Then go back to your new routine of “less is more.”
Remember: You are ultimately not denying yourself that delicious food… you are merely prolonging your enjoyment of it by dividing it up into either two meals or a meal and a snack for later. Win/Win!
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Here’s another excerpt from my upcoming book, which is a follow-up to The Boy Is Gonna Rock:
Will Drum For Food: Surviving the Nineties with Clubs, Campgrounds, Clinics, and Credit Cards
This memoir focuses on the Nelson hey-day, on through a decade-plus of my pursuits as a drumming educator and solo artist. It delves deep into the creative, philosophical, and business aspects of surviving and thriving in both of those very different musical/cultural worlds and, as you might imagine, there are plenty of stories to tell! Here is an excerpt about my earliest motivations for pursuing the drummer-as-bandleader direction.
And again, this is an unedited, first-draft preview. Enjoy…
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The Great American, Grassroots, Rockin’ Road Warrior Dream
I always had a fascination with that typical storyline of how most bands progress from A to Z in their “journey to the top.” They start off with nothing but some shit gear, a beat-up van or station wagon, and a few bogus gigs, where the five patrons in the bar barely notice them. And then the grassroots climb begins, as our heroes navigate a myriad of treacherous circumstances: roadside breakdowns, borderline financial ruin, perhaps a member change, maybe some drug or alcohol setbacks, and several epic stories of near-disaster that they barely survived.
But then, things gradually begin to pick up. The band’s live performances improve and they start writing better songs. More people start turning up to shows. Gear and transport are gradually upgraded and overall conditions improve ever so slightly. This all leads to more packed houses and even a few national act support spots where the band goes over well… which then leads to bigger and better gigs… which then leads to a bit more money and opportunity. And so the trajectory continues, until at last—after many close calls, disappointments, flame-outs, and then one, two, three or more false starts—a record deal is finally inked and the band steps up to the next level.
From there, the grind continues to various degrees, with some bands crushing it on their debut attempt (like Van Halen or GNR), and others needing a few records to hit their stride (like Kiss or Rush). Either way, this general narrative exists with practically every single band you can think of. Sure, there are anomalies, especially in our current “American Idol” culture of zero-to-sixty reality TV exposure and overnight YouTube sensationalism. But this classic narrative of the slow and steady grind had always appealed to me. Grassroots. No shortcuts. Building a die-hard following. Earning your acclaim. And, of course, engaging a journey of inexplicable struggle and strife—the likes of which most “mere mortals” could not (or would not choose to) survive—in a modern-day version of the classic Joseph Campbell Heroes Journey paradigm. You face the adversities, slay the dragons, and eventually, in your darkest hour, win the kingdom.
The only thing was, by 1990, I had never experienced the full arc of such a journey. I had become intimately acquainted with the agonizing first stages of the process, but not so much with the fruits-of-the-labor pay-off stages. And my first major gig, Vinnie Vincent Invasion, had already been primed in the sizable aura of the Kiss brand—at least in terms of elevating Vinnie to a stature of international notoriety right out of the gate. The same could be said of the Nelson gig. In addition to any cache the brothers may have inherited from their family legacy, they had already busted balls through many years of writing, gigging, and all the rest of it—long before I came along—to get to a record deal level.
And so, since leaving the Berklee College of Music and beginning to pursue that solo direction, I had developed somewhat of a romanticized version of what my own grassroots journey to the kingdom might entail. It would be a drummer-led situation (which was unusual, I know). Buddy Rich was the gold standard where drummers as bandleaders were concerned, but Billy Cobham had also had a great run fronting his various powerhouse ensembles. I was looking to combine some of Buddy and Billy’s “drum hero” attributes with a more rock-oriented, power trio vibe that was squarely inspired by guitar great, Eric Johnson.
Buddy, Billy… and Bobby! (I literally just noticed the name-similarities in this moment: 5-letter names that begin with a “B” and end with a “Y”… which is followed by matching consonants. Destiny, indeed! Now, if only I could play like these motherfuckers!)
To that end, Eric was probably my biggest role model in this capacity: Virtuoso band-leader, fronting a classic power trio, and packing out clubs everywhere. Of course, this guy was a fucking monster without parallel who had procured legendary status throughout Texas for well over a decade before he would have his breakthrough record with “Cliffs of Dover” in 1990. Shit, I remember watching this guy burn the house down at venues like Cullen auditorium, with his first band, the Electromagnets, opening for the likes of prog rockers UK. But then later, at Rockefellers in Houston—one of my favorite all-time concert venues—I saw some Eric Johnson performances that have stayed with me to this very day. Man, could this guy wail… and did he ever play the long-game.
I remember having many conversations about this ideal with my childhood friend, Cobo. He was a huge believer in me, and in this concept of a grassroots ethos, having been a singer/songwriter in several popular Houston-area bands in the late 70s. And he was always the first to encourage me to put on the blinders and diligently head in that direction, without the distraction of all of these “dime-a-dozen” rock gigs. I think he saw the practical value of me doing them, but he was always that friend in the shadows, quietly whispering in my ear about the bigger picture aspiration. Do your own thing was his mantra. These talks always resonated with me and would help to fuel an ever-expanding vision that was developing in my mind:
My elusive power trio and I would go out and struggle in clubs, slowly and steadily building a rabid following around brilliant performances that featured stellar ensemble playing, deep, funky grooves with an arena rock edge, and, of course, solos… lots of solos… from everyone… steeped in that old school jazz world directive of spontaneous improvisation, and of no two shows, or solos, ever being the same. Obviously, I knew this kind of project would not be lighting the Billboard charts aflame, selling a ton of records, or reaching the same type of pinnacle that most standard-issue rock or pop bands might aspire to. But I was convinced that such a project could find its place in the world and blaze an interesting, innovative, and self-sustaining path in the landscape. And more importantly, I felt destined to manifest such a vision, even though I had no idea how to do it.
Good news was, I certainly had the band to pull this off. Bad news was, how does one begin? Brett (Garsed) was in LA at the time, waiting around for the initial crush of Nelson activities to kick in, but the Fox (Carl Carter) was clear across the country in Connecticut. We couldn’t just start playing around LA or the immediate region like a local band. No, our thing would have to be built around shorter jaunts of concentrated touring, where we would step into something of a national grind, as we would block out a few weeks or even a few months of calendar time and dive in. And then from there, we would wash, rinse, and repeat this grind six months or so later, in hopes that there would be a few more folks turning up the next time, and so on. But how could we get this thing going with the geographical realities at hand?
Also, let’s not forget about the harrowing financial logistics of touring on any level. We would need some kind of van to travel in, and that van would likely have to pull some kind of trailer with all of our gear. Then, in addition to us three band guys, we would need at least one crew guy—like my tech, Cubby—to deal with drums and backline, and most certainly a second guy to assist with set-ups and help drive while the rest of us slept… particularly if there were a lot of 500-plus mile hauls between back-to-back shows, which I was sure there would have to be. Now, figure modest wages and per diems (daily cash for food and other basics), a couple shitty motel rooms, fuel, van maintenance, and trailer rental, and all of a sudden, you have a pretty daunting set of numbers to account for—especially for a new, unproven project that was led by a drummer! It just felt like a pipe dream riddle with no real answer.
Oh, what a grueling yet joyous road we would travel…
Additionally, we had scheduling issues to navigate. The Nelson thing would be launching full-time soon and who knew how long Brett and I would be immersed in that. And the Fox was an in-demand east coast player, constantly juggling studio and live dates. It didn’t look too promising.
And yet, I literally felt like it was divinely ordained that the three of us make a run of it and take this thing to the stage and to the studio. It was just too unique, too compelling, and too exciting of an endeavor to not materialize beyond a mere vision. Somehow, I needed to figure this thing out… and fast.
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