In this hectic world it’s easy to miss destiny’s call. Like, if maybe you were on another call at the time, metaphorically speaking.
I know now that I have been so busy being the world’s greatest teacher of ‘ninjitsu that I just made up™’ and other-equally-important-things that I nearly missed my true calling!
I have a girl named Roo to thank for awakening my slumbering soul. You should know that Roo is not her real name – some people don’t like having their real name and real face on the internet. I reckon that’s fair enough because she looks like this:
In my case, I’m not so worried about it. For example, I can reveal that my real name is BigMrJosh and my real face looks like this:
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| And my pyjamas look like this! POW! |
So now that mystery’s been solved, let’s return to my destiny story.
“Yeah, I’m going to get drum lessons,” Roo just dropped into the conversation one day.
I respected her gumption. You don’t see a lot of gumption nowadays. I decided to piggyback on her gumption. After all, hadn’t I wanted to learn drums for a few years? I already possessed pretty formidable skill on the air drums, the ancestor of the actual drum. This was a skill that I figured would be transferrable. So with the confidence that only comes from having achieved complete mastery of literally hundreds of songs on the air drums, I sauntered into my first lesson.
The first thing I learned about real drums is that there is a right way and a wrong way to hold the drum sticks. The wrong way is with them clenched in your angry, straining fist like a Neanderthal. I have to be honest and tell you that this technique had served me well when practicing the air drums, so I was loath to change.
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| Me am here to rock this shit! |
Similarly the bass drum, which in air drumming is always right there when you need it, in real drumming is kind of a dick. The kick pedal kept getting snared in my pants leg – that’s when it wasn’t recoiling with enough force to drive itself into my shin.
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| Originally conceived as a torture device. |
But I would not be deterred. In fact, I had my sights firmly set on the future. Here in Japan, the country where stripping down to your short pants and painting your body up to look like a sea otter doesn’t even require an explanation let alone an excuse, I figured it was time to start working on my showmanship.
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| Showmanship. It's important. |
Skip to lesson 2, the following week. I came prepared, mentally and questionally.
+For the first 10 minutes we practiced hitting rubber pads with our drumsticks. I don’t know if it’s because all the other members of the class were girls, but this seemed redundant to me. I’ve been hitting stuff with sticks since I first closed my chubby baby fist on a stick. I mastered that particular skill at age four. It was time to move things along.
“Sensei! Sensei!”
“Yes, BigMrJosh?” (See! It’s totally my real name)
“Can you twirl the sticks like a rock star?”
Words were not necessary. Instead, he casually but deftly spun the stick in his right hand. It was like the stick moved through his fingers. I fell in love a little bit, then.
“Sweeeeet. Teach us.”
Now, the other students may all have been girls, but that didn’t mean they were immune to awesome. So even though stick spinning probably doesn’t appear until Chapter 6 of our official drum school textbook (which I, budding rock star that I am, cannot afford) the only percussion in the drums room for the next 10 minutes came from the sound of rookie drummer stick-dropping. Eventually, I could see realisation dawning on Sensei: the lesson had gotten away from him. As he cleared his throat to continue, I took that moment, hand stretched skyward, to unleash the ultimate salvo, that question on every aspiring drummer’s lips:
“Hey, do we have a cowbell anywhere?”
What people are saying about BigMrJosh’s drumming:
“You’re like a child trapped in the body of a man-child.”
- BigMrJosh’s Patient Wife
“Now the blog of the year has the soundtrack it so richly deserves.”
- Some Guy I Paid 1000 Yen to.
“Thank goodness you don’t still live at home.”
- BigMrJosh’s Mum
