Section 1: A New Year Tradition?
I hope this does not become a New Year’s Tradition, but two years in a row now, I have been ill going into New Year’s Eve and absolutely down for the count on the first day of the new year. Coupled with that has been a tradition that I hope will continue, but please, without the illness: I’ve had a drumming gig two New Year’s Eves in a row now with a cover band I’ve played with for a couple of years. It’s a great experience and a coveted one to have good gig New Year’s Eve and a total honor to play with musicians that I sincerely want to share the experience with, but being super sick and needing to play the drums for two to three hours, suppressing coughing fits, sweating through the aches and pains in the body, trying to remember through the fatigue how the parts go, how these wooden things in my hands work, hoping that I don’t pass out, sneeze, or throw up–these things do not make for the drummer an enjoyable performance experience! Needless to say, I survived the gig and played most all of my parts correctly, and, except maybe noticing a little less than usual animation behind the drum kit, no one save my bandmates were aware of the compromise. But Jesus, when I got home at nearly two in the morning, I felt like I had been hit by a train. When we’re in a bad way, we often say, hyperbolically, that we feel like we’re dying. When I got home in the first couple of hours of 2020, I felt, without exaggeration, like I was dying. Here I am on January 2, not fully recovered, but clearly, no longer dying, able to compose a blog essay, on the mend, as they say. But now my wife and my son both also have come down with a thing–which may or may not be my fault. So we are celebrating the New Year together all convalescing in various household compartments, taking turns being the nurse to the other sickos in the house.
I did learn a couple of things about drumming a show while sick, and, for some inexplicable reason, practiced this learning somewhat intuitively while I was playing. So for those of you who might need to do some sick drumming at some future date (not to be confused with “sick” drumming, which is always recommended), here’s what I did, and what you might keep in mind, to get through:
- Don’t sing if you can help it. The back ups will not likely be missed. If you’re singing lead on one or two songs, skip ’em. If you’re the lead singer for a consistent part of the show, I’m so so very sorry. It will be the worst thing ever.
- Don’t rock out like you usually do. Give almost a zen-like concentration on simply playing the parts–leave the physical showy stuff out.
- Don’t take any deep breaths: promotes coughing fit.
- Don’t laugh if someone on stage does something or says something funny: promotes coughing fit.
- Generally speaking, keep your mouth shut and breathe through your nose in order to avoid a coughing fit. It might be useful to note that my condition at the time, not a flu per se, but a super nasty virus of some sort, was in my chest and my throat and not in my sinuses. I would not recommend keeping your mouth shut if you couldn’t breathe through your nose. No one likes a sick drummer, but people like dead drummers even less (I’m told).
- Have water and hot tea both easily at your disposal. The tea quelled the urge to cough. The water prevented drying up and withering away.
- Don’t consume any alcohol. It turns out my illnesses have paved the way for two completely dry New Year celebrations in a row!
I hope you have found the preceding helpful or at least somewhat interesting. I think it might be the first time in my entire blog history that I have given any kind of instruction about drumming. It may really be the only drumming instruction I have any kind of authority to give!
Section 2: A New Way To Experience Music?
For the longest time, just as, in the beginning of the smart phone revolution, I resisted getting a smart phone, I have resisted subscribing to any music streaming service. I have thought of myself as a purist. If I was interested in a record, I would buy it. If I was really interested, I’d buy it on vinyl. If I wasn’t as sure, I’d buy a CD. If I was experimenting with something new or if I was low on music funds, I’d pay for and download the album from iTunes or the Emusic subscription service. My righteousness came from the twofold conviction (which I believe is borne out by evidence) that one, the quality of the streaming audio would be inferior to both vinyl and compact disc, and two, that streaming services paid little to nothing to artists. I first started evolving on the issue when a mastering engineer friend of mine told me about TIDAL, a high quality, hi-fidelity streaming service created by and curated by musicians. But this was three years ago. That ruminated for a long time. The next phase of the evolution of my thinking was brought on by the resident 14 year old. My son requested for Christmas a family plan subscription to Spotify.
After some research between TIDAL, Qobuz, and Spotify, I decided to appease the teenager and not the audiophile. I’m sure he’s happy, but it has already, in the two weeks or so of subscribing, revolutionized my music listening experience. For good or bad, I cannot say. On the good, I am honestly enjoying the service. No question. I have added to my library and listened several times from start to finish albums that I was curious about, albums that have been perpetually on a wish list, albums that, in physical form, are out of print and circulation, albums recommended to me by friends, and albums that were on everybody’s best of 2019 lists. So, in a very short time, I have been able to listen to and enjoy a number of new records that would have absolutely broke the bank had I acquired them in a record shop. And I haven’t paid a penny yet–it’s a three month trial! And as most of the listening I have done has been at my computer desk through my powered Audioengine desktop speakers, through the Bose bluetooth, or in the car, the loss of audio quality has escaped me. And the bad?
There are no liner notes. No songwriting credits. Don’t know who the musicians are. Don’t know who produced, engineered, or mastered. Don’t know where it was recorded or mastered. There’s nothing to hold. There are no lyrics. There’s no art outside of a front jacket. Those are negatives.
And this: It’s an embarrassment of riches. It seems not right somehow to be able to listen to any album I want from start to finish from any artist I choose, over and over again, but I can. I can download albums as well, so that when I’m on the road without the mighty wi-fi I can still listen to my favorites. $14.99 a month. What’s wrong with that? And of course any young people reading this are just shaking their heads in disbelief. What is wrong with this guy? Clearly, in my defense, the artist benefits less, far less, from my patronage. The brick and mortar shop where I usually buy my records benefits not at all. And these last two, perhaps, are the negative aspects of streaming music services that give me the most pause.
Since the first section of this blog entry ended with a list, let’s follow up and conclude section 2 with another list. Here is some justification, some rationalization, some arguments about why my decision to subscribe to Spotify won’t ruin the music industry:
- I will do my part to support musicians and local businesses by continuing to buy physical products, records and cd’s. Music Millennium has not seen the last of me!
- Because the budget for such things has a limit, because I can’t buy everything that interests me, artists and albums that I may have NEVER heard I will get to hear! They won’t get their cut of a $20 to $30 ticket price for new vinyl, but they will get a couple of pennies every time I listen to a song. And I am what you might call a loyal listener. If I like a thing–I’m going to listen to it a bunch of times.
- And, if I find myself liking a thing enough to listen to it a bunch of times and it becomes a favorite–at this point fidelity is an issue and I will buy the physical record.
- Every once in a moon, I will buy a new album that does not (pet peeve of mine) include a digital download card. This can now be removed from my list of peeves. New ELO album didn’t have a download code? Spotify has it. Download it there. That seems doubly good for Jeff Lynne, and it sure beats paying $30 for a record, finding it without download card, and liking the record so much that you are compelled to purchase it AGAIN on iTunes so that you can travel with it!
- Finally, as a person of a certain age who nevertheless still gets a huge thrill out of discovering new musical artists, the main benefit of Spotify might just be the new possibilities for discovery that await–totally on my own just plunking around–not to mention the completely untapped potential (of which I know the youth is totally down with) of it’s social networking and sharing possibilities. I understand that shared playlists are a big hit with the kids.
This concludes the first blog entry of 2020. Recovering from illness. Sad that I did not fully enjoy New Year’s Eve as I would have liked, but full of gratitude for the opportunity to play and with these people–people who have become dear to me over the last couple of years. Again, disappointed that I did not accomplish everything I wanted to accomplish before heading back to work after winter break, but, again again, not surprised, and thankful to have been able to do what I’ve done–not the least of which–four gigs in two weeks time. Now that I can see better health right around the corner, and despite recent news events that scare the shit out of me, I am hopeful and optimistic about 2020. Whatever we need to do to make our communities, our cities, our country, or the world a better place, let’s do that. Music is a starting point. Amen.
michael jarmer 