Lost in music

Buying a drumkit and playing again, was never part of the plan, but then there was never a plan ...

Playing drums really is like riding a bike, you never forget how to.

What I had forgotten was how much pleasure playing drums is. It’s a truly immersive experience where you can go to a place in your head and block out everything else. 

On Father’s Day, when France was in the middle of a heatwave and La Chaussee was baking hot, I set up my new kit in the middle of the stage under the Footsbarn iconic big top tent and played for three hours, pretty much non-stop. I hadn’t played for about 10 years and was rusty, to say the least, but I soon got back into a groove, remembering rhythms and fills and drum parts from favourite songs.

I don’t know why but I put on Band on the Run through my headphones, a song I had never played before and had no particular affinity to, but it was on a McCartney playlist I had been listening to and I loved the variation in rhythm and kind of locked into it, spending hours figuring out the drum track.

While I was keeping time, the time simply flew by as I became lost in my own world. I have practised yoga for 20 years, and took up cycling, swimming, and walking - but nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to the sheer mindful escapism of playing on a full kit with no restrictions to keep the ‘racket down’. I felt free.

I bought my first drumkit aged 16 with my first pay packet. That’s a lie, I got it on hire purchase and my dad had to be a guarantor, which was about the only good thing he ever did for me, apart from fathering me and introducing me to rock n roll, through his collection of singles. For the record, my first setup was a yellow Premier kit with double floor toms, Zildjian, and Paiste high-end cymbals.

My new kit is a Pearl Export, bought second-hand, but is actually brand new. I got it from a French guy in Moulins who lived in social housing and had it set up in a spare room. He had only ever played it with practice pads, but either he or his neighbours, more likely. got fed up and he sold it to me for 450 euros, with Zildjian cymbals. I could not believe my luck.

Also, having a place to practice unfettered by any noise constraints and in such a creative space like La Chaussee is also something I am grateful for. Being a drummer is tough, the only other instrument that comes close to not being able to practice without pissing off the neighbours and those you live with is bagpipes.

I set my first kit up in my bedroom, at the end of my bed, which was problematic for two reasons. One, I shared my bedroom with my brother who is 10 years younger than me, and two,  we lived in a terrace house next to York station, so you could imagine how popular the Myers family was in the street, and that’s without weekend performances from my old man rolling in drunk most nights and shouting and balling, waking up the neighbours at all hours.

Playing the drums became an escape, from myself and the disappointments and frustrations of leaving school at 16 with no qualifications, the strife at home, and the economic and political situation developing in the north of England under a Margaret Thatcher government.

Becoming a drummer also allowed me to escape my environment, and at 18 years of age, I went from playing in a punk band to playing jazz when I moved to Austria and became a full-time musician.

I never became a professional drummer, perhaps if I had played more like Charlie Watts than trying to be a Keith Moon show-off, I may have had some success? Music’s loss is journalism’s gain because at aged 25 I had had enough of playing in bands, lugging my gear around in the back of vans, and dealing with the bullshit that goes with playing in bands.

I decided that if I was going to make anything of myself, I couldn’t rely on others, and being a writer or journalist at least I only had myself to blame if I failed. Once I started writing for a local paper, I never looked back and had no regrets about giving up music.

It’s only now, as I approach my 60th year, that I realise how much I have missed playing. The drums are an integral part of me and music has always been my guide, comfort, and inspiration. I have an eclectic taste and can listen to any type of music and I am comforted by the fact that I am playing again, even though I suffer from terrible tinnitus.

The reason I am playing again is that the band that I played in, we were called Rough Mix, is organising a reunion next year as we all celebrate turning 60 in 2023. 

Although we never actually made it, we have still remained friends down the years. Two members of the band, Al and Olly, I have known since I was 11 years old, and without their friendship, I think my life would have turned out differently - and not for the better.

Dave, the guitarist, we met later when he moved to York from Dublin and we have invited Ian, who went on to play with Al after Rough Mix finished. We sadly lost a member, Andy, some years ago and he will be missed at the reunion like he was the last time we played at a 40th birthday reunion.

Moving to Austria at a young age and being exposed to a different culture, language and music was also a significant factor and these two events led me to achieve quite remarkable things in my life and profession, for which I am immensely grateful for.

That’s why coming back to the drums and being able to play them in a welcoming and creative environment like La Chaussee, with its marquee, studio theatre, and rehearsal room is something I would have never dreamed to be possible.

And that is why I have invited Rough Mix, our band formed almost 49 years ago at school, to play next year as a celebration of love, friendship, music, and for me, gratitude.

Now, I just have to learn the set.

Spotify playlist: An esoteric mix of music curated just for you and to get me through the night, day, while I work and play. Thanks for your suggestions - a couple of new tracks added this week!

Quote of the week: “We are all built in different ways and I think possibly that I’m also so stupid to put myself into situations where it’s almost live or die.… But look, we only got one life, might as well enjoy it. I mean, sometimes in my twenties I felt a lot older than I do now. But it’s all so relative, and it all depends how you feel about yourself and how you feel about other people. I always try and look on the bright side of life, you know? Keith Richards.