Thank you, STEWART, for allowing me to drum with The Police.

[tamalynx]

[quote="Maud138"]ooooh weren't you tempted to hit his head with a mallet?[/quote]

OMG! Whack-a-Jeff! Ha ha!

I love reading this BABA, it's spellbinding!

[BABA]

Another detour: now that I think about it, I believe that the last time I played a song on a stage, Mike Portnoy was the drummer. Did that give you a jolt, AZPEARTPORTNOY? The truth is that I went to junior high and high school with him (I’ve been saving that nugget for a special occasion) and we were in a bunch of school bands together (confession: I played trumpet). I have a distinct recollection of our junior high band teacher asking him to play a paradiddle before the whole ensemble, and then “again, without the pulse.” He did fine, and I think that’s when I got interested in drums. You should have seen the double-bass behemoth that he played at jazz band concerts. I ambushed him at a Sam Ash (say that three times fast) earlier this summer and there was a glimmer of recognition. Woo-hoo! In any event, I’m updating my resume to include “played with back-to-back Modern Drummer Hall of Famers” and I'll let you know how far I get with that.

Chapter 4

“Reggatta de Blanc” reverts to “Can’t Stand Losing You”, and as the song heats up towards the finish line I’m pretty certain that Stewart’s motions are becoming a little exaggerated, head bobbing around and arms flailing a bit. Maybe it’s a pre-show ritual, maybe he’s trying to exhort his band, or maybe (just maybe) he’s signaling me to get the lead out. Reflexively, I opt for getting the lead out and let loose a bit. Why not?

Meanwhile, during all of this, my wife cavorts downstage with Sting.

The end is a bit murky for me, so I wrap up with the old reliable roll-pause-choke on the cymbal. The song is over and this big room stops rumbling. Stewart Copeland looks over his right shoulder and delivers the ultimate rhetorical question:

“Kool?”

You betcha. Thanks again.

To be continued . . . . [Teaser for the next episode in case you thought this tale was over: hi-hat lesson.]

[animal]

BABA, wow what an awesome story.

Hihat lesson? come on we need to hear about this.

[bella]

This is beyond Kool.

[DirtyMartini]

[quote="BABA"]The song is over and this big room stops rumbling. Stewart Copeland looks over his right shoulder and delivers the ultimate rhetorical question:

“Kool?”
[/quote]

Haha. Nice.


Get the lead out, BABA, and bring on the hihats!

[BABA]

Chapter 5

Farewell, Gong Bass in Police Blue Sparkle. I shall remember you fondly.

Mallets returned, I descend -- but not very far. My favorite drummer is two steps in front of me, undefended and seated onstage at his touring kit. I know that my time here is just about up, but until it has completely expired they are going to have to drag me out.

I thank Stewart for an incredible experience. I probably should have thanked him for a lot of other things, but thinking straight ain’t easy when your eyeballs are about to explode from an adrenaline overload. Then, sensing an opportunity that isn’t necessarily unfair, I deploy some of the Q&A that I never got to use in Savannah.

*** I hope the next two paragraphs don’t violate etiquette. I’m pretty certain that I’m not revealing anything sensitive, but if anyone is offended by publication of a public figure’s non-public activity, I apologize. ***

I tell Stewart that I gotta get some of those prototype hi-hats. He likes them too -- they’re a good size. I ask him if they will be produced. He says yes. He twirls them around and stops the spin with his thumb pointing at the rider logo. I detect some well-deserved pride and think: mmm . . . Rhythmatist hi-hats . . . [insert Homer Simpson drool sound].

I’ve fooled around with various bottom hat tilter settings forever, and now I need to see how the pro does it. I squat down to peek under his bottom hat and ask how he sets his tilter. Visual inspection and verbal instruction confirm that he doesn’t use it. Maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise, but now it’s concrete information. He explains that to get that nice tight sound you need to “get the air out” with a firm seal (which you won't get with a wavy-edged bottom hat). He then proceeds to demonstrate some two-handed hi-hat Copelandisms in both “if you don’t do this” (legendary) and “you get this” (possibly-less-than-legendary) versions. I ask about coping with the cymbal-groan that results from closing the hats too tightly. He tells me that, in the studio at least, even he sometimes gets it. Reality strikes: I’m getting a micro-hat micro-clinic from the grandmaster. This alone is worth the price of admission and then some.

Folks, that prototype Blue Bell Ride has been worked.

Pretty soon the handlers very politely inform me that it’s time to go and in all honesty I can’t disagree. After thanking Stewart full force yet again, I depart the drum riser and exhale.

Andy Summers is still on stage, so I quickly give him my regards. I have no idea whether he saw or heard what I had been up to. I had tracked him down at a book-signing last year and got all my questions answered then, so there’s no need to harass him any further now.

I head offstage Sting-side from whence I came but there’s no Sting. I look around but there’s no sign of him. Oh well, I guess I didn’t get to greet the whole squad. Boo-hoo. However, at the bottom of the stage stairs, in a dim half-light just inside the mouth of the understage cavern, Sting is speaking to someone I can’t quite see. Sting is kind enough to let me wish him well, and so I forego long-awaited vengeance for the time when he patted his chest and made eyes at my wife while singing “the feelings I have for her in my heart” costumed as a jester. The man was only doing his job, and doing it quite well.

And then it’s exit stage right and back to the real world.

To be continued . . . . [Teaser: the next episode features a conversation with Derek Power and the unexpected return of Jeff Seitz.]

[TheEqualizer]

*has no words *

[bella]

OH MY GONGness! I'm sitting here reading this with hands clasped to face "Home Alone" style. I don't know how you kept your composure, BABA.

[BABA]

Chapter 6

So now I’m back in the pit and thoroughly disoriented. I reunite with my wife and we rejoin the herd to be led out. At this point, however, I have one last task in mind -- in this particular environment, I’ve learned to be on the lookout for Derek Power. As I mentioned in another thread, I bumped into him at the Halloween show and, despite being almost-perfect strangers (I knew who he was but not vice versa), he seemed perfectly happy to chat. That was pretty cool in its own right, but the best part was that he was wearing the same zombie-vampire makeup as Stewart. Seems to me that with a guy like that, once you approach his orbit you never know what might happen.

Lo and behold, there he is in the second row of floor seats, speaking with another gentleman. As gingerly as possible I butt in, mention that we’d met before in pretty much the exact same spot, and I get the same cheerful response as last time.

As expected, I observe that Derek Power is the Mr. T of credential lanyards [insert more Homer Simpson drool sounds]. I consider various gambits, but none seem either plausible or polite, and in any event I think I’ve had more than my fair share of fun already.

I thank him for the free ticket that I won through sc.net. (I gave that ticket to a friend who is a phenomenal solo drummer. Please check him out at http://www.shakerleg.com and if you like him, let him know!)

I thank him for staging this show in NYC. He mentions that Central Park was actually the first choice venue, but that got canned because of legal limits on crowd size. That’s just as well because it is, or soon will be, raining.

I ask him if this is it. He thinks it is. At least that’s what he tells me.

The sand has pretty much run out on my meeting with management when Jeff Seitz comes over to talk to Derek. Derek introduces Jeff to his companion and his companion to Jeff. Then Jeff smiles at me and asks (with what I hope was amused mock-exasperation) “and WHO are YOU?” With the last remnants of my energy, I thank Jeff for not forcibly ejecting me from the drums.

My wife and I look around and realize that our herd is long gone. We’d better scram before trouble starts. So I leave the Copeland Crew with my standard farewell: “See you next time.” I hope so.

To be concluded . . . .

[IndyGirl]

Very nice story, BABA!

[TheEqualizer]

Good to hear you got to personally thank Derek for your ticket. I wish I had the opportunity.

*imagines Derek saying, "I pity the fool who tries to steal one of my lanyards"*

[bella]

nice, baba.

[DirtyMartini]

What a great experience, BABA -- the hi-hat chat especially. YAY.

[irishrose1969]

wow, BABA...you got to play along..how neat is that. You got to talk to STEWART about a very important HI-HAT, Derek and Jeff. They are so kool.

Were you totally on cloud nine after that....Wow!

Anyone who has played on STEWARTS kit, rig, or whatever....

SO LUCKY!! (and so very well deserved too) Very happy for everyone who got that opportunity.

I personally would have loved to play on the percussion rig. Fun times.

[BABA]

Epilogue

As of this writing, I am unaware that any pictures or videos exist to illustrate or corroborate this story. I had a camera in my pocket the whole time, but sometimes it’s better just to live in the moment than to break the flow for mementos. Anyways, there were credible witnesses.

Major support for this story was provided by Public Television.

Thank you to The Police for reuniting. Thanks also for opening up your soundchecks, particularly to STEWART for sharing your drums. It was a thrill of a lifetime.

Thank you to bella for the wonderful lanyards, for moral support and for crying at work at Chapter 3. I hope it was one of those life-affirming cries and not a noxious-prose cry.

Thank you to DirtyMartini and nancyrose for helping me to contemporaneously embed this story in long-term memory before rationality dismissed it as a fantasy. And thanks again and again to Kellie for helping me sign the Flag before it took flight.

Thank you to my wife for indulging my repeated displays of inexcusable and immature behavior. Surprisingly enough, a psychologist friend told me that this sort of passion is actually a good thing. Go figure.

Thank you, dear reader, for reading. I hope you enjoyed this story and I’d love to hear your reactions. Ciao ciao.