Noobies VÜ

It was a saddish Saturday this past weekend. I say saddish, because though I had been stressing out for a few days after I received the offer to purchase my drums (Honestly, I had put them on Craigslist assuming I wouldn't actually sell. I had simply assumed that by actually listing them I was making attempts at cleaning out the clutter of my house.) in the end it wasn't so bad. Beyond that stressing, once they were packed up and sent on their way, I felt only the slightest tug and sense of loss. It could be because I had dealt with it during the days prior, which I am wont to do. 

I didn't sell my drums because I no longer want to play, I sold them because I didn't really have a place to put them and I was self-conscious the few times I pounded on them. When I grew up in Beryl Jct our nearest neighbor was at least a 1/4 of a mile away, the only time I had to worry about disturbing or annoying people was when there was a meeting down at the firehouse at the end of our road. This happened very rarely and once I moved them into the basement, even rarer.

When I first started looking for a house the whole reason I wanted one with a basement was so I could have a room to set them up.

Now, I can remember growing up and listening to headbangers like Motley Crue and Whitesnake and Queensryche, etc. They all had these monster double-bass kits, so natch, I wanted one just like them. I had to have THE biggest kit I could afford. After high school graduation I placed my order. I can remember waiting for the kit to arrive as that every damn week I'd find out it was on back order. Man you think it's rough waiting for shit to be delivered now, imagine being a kid waiting on his dream kit. I was getting pissed! It was supposed to be in within 6 weeks of ordering. It wound up being closer to 6 months! Why didn't I just cancel the order? I contemplated it for about 10 seconds, my dad much longer than that, but I was driven; I wanted my dream kit! So I got my dream-kit but little did I know how much space that bad boy would actually take up, about 10' square. Tearing those suckers down and then putting them back up took at least 20 minutes both ways. There were days I thought I should just use part of it, maybe retire a bass drum and a couple toms, but I couldn't.

I played the hell out of that kit and I joined a few bands, though sadly, nothing ever took off. But they were still so awesome to have and pound on. I can recall some awesome parties in that basement and the jamming sessions we had. It was so cool. The only thing that could have been better would have been to have 10k people watching us. I played at the Washington County Fair a couple of times, but beyond that... nothing much.

After not having played them in at least 5 years, at least with any kind of regularity, and after my mother sold the house and I no longer had the place to store them, I was faced with trying to figure out what to do with them. Sadly, this was the best option.

I think what stressed me out was this was like a closing of a chapter of my life. I defined myself as a drummer for many years; I've literally played over half my life. And I loved it. Now I no longer have that. Well, hopefully if finances permit I can get a groovy electronic set and bang away to my heart's desire.  Until that time, I guess this is a eulogy of sorts. A eulogy of the teenage and early 20s me that still dreamed that anything was possible; that I could be up on stage in front of thousands, adored by other musicians and kids that responded to music, OUR music.

Reality is a frigid bitch.