Daunting Task

Tonight, for the first time since the Redline Project commenced, I attempted to record myself playing a drum set.

Let me dive right in with an admission. Neatly tucked away into the boiler room closet (a no-no by any semi-serious drummer's standards), my citron yellow set of Eames has been collecting pollen, cockroaches, and other such annoyances for about four months.

As I picked up the sticks (Regal Tip 8A Maples for those who care), I realized in an instant that my excitement to play far exceeded my ability to produce coherent beats. Years have come between me and my serious pursuit of the instrument, and a solid four months elapsed since the last time I touched the old tubs in any form.

I feel as though I am down in the count long before I even step up to the plate. I have no fancy equipment for capturing a decent drum sound - just a trusty, borrowed condenser microphone. I plug the stout mic into the mixer, a dubious smirk plastered across my face. A few clicks later with headphones securely cupping my ears, I am off and running.

Rust creeps its way around my fingers as ivy climbing a collegiate brick facade, and the feeling of Ace bandages tightly wrapped plagues my limbs. All hope seems lost as I scour around for a little muscle memory. Two measures to go until my cue. One measure to go. One, two, three, four...

A surge of energy spikes from nowhere, and I a steady rhythm pulses from the wooden beads of my Regal Tips. The groove thickens as measures pass. I close my eyes and let the music swirl through my cerebellum, reveling in the woven phrases and all but forgetting that I am laying down a track.

The passage ends, and I am shaken from the trance and settle into my office chair for a listen to the music that just unfolded.

One universal truth about recordings: they do not lie. My euphoric grin has faded into a puzzled grimace. The rhythms are off, the dynamics are terrible, and the beats are juvenile - not to mention the recording sounds as if it were tracked in an echoey basement (oh wait, it was).

Attempt one: fail. I have the weekend to figure out how to shake some cobwebs free and lay down some beats again.