#587: A musician of a certain age. . .

. . . sits on his drum throne and bends over
to tighten the floor tom legs and the agony
is immediate. He’s not sure if he hears
an actual crack or if the pain synapses in
his brain are exploding his auditory nerves.
What is most likely is that the pain has
caused him to yell. He’s setting up for sound
check, doesn’t have to play for another
few hours, but his back in this moment,
while it was perfectly “fine” five minutes ago,
is more fucked up then it has ever been. He
can barely stand up. He can barely walk. And
there’s no way he’s bending over for anything.
He’s not a stranger to some lower back pain,
but this time it’s different, especially heinous.
He knows–this will absolutely put a damper
on his performance and his enjoyment thereof.
But wonder of wonders, he happens to be
in this particular band with these particular
musicians, and each of them suddenly become
his attentive caregivers. In the green room,
the bass player, experienced in this type of thing,
works on the drummer’s body, working deep
the muscles, stretching the limbs. It hurts,
but also not, because the drummer trusts
this guy, and is in awe of his willingness to
do this work, a thing the drummer thinks
no other musician he’s ever played with would
be skilled enough or enthused enough to do.
It’s not a cure, but it’s enough to get
the drummer through the show, sitting up
as straight as he can, minimizing movement
of the lower back, avoiding his usual habit
of leaning forward into his kit while he plays.
And after, the guitar player and the singer
and the bass player masseuse are all helping him
put his drums and cymbals and stands in
bags and carting them for him to the vehicle
where later he struggles to get inside the car.
Maybe, for musicians of a certain age, this
is the new rock and roll. They will nurse each
other, help with the heavy lifting, lighten
the load when necessary any way that they can,
so that in their new-found decrepitude, they
can continue to rock as if they were twenty
years younger.