Drumming News
by Rick Van Horn
I started playing drums in bands at the age of thirteen. That was in 1964, just after the Beatles had ushered in the British Invasion. I started making money as a drummer at fifteen, playing for school dances and church parties. As an adult, I played in nightclub house bands (when such things existed), working five- and six-night-a-week gigs. I was a full-time musician, making a good living…on a strictly local basis.
As some of you know, my playing career took a major turn in 1983, when I joined the staff of Modern Drummer magazine as managing editor. That led to a nearly twenty-five-year career, during which my drumming activities were restricted to weekend bands and casual gigs.
Through all of this time, my dream was never to be a rock star. Nope—my dream was always to play in a show band, backing up a name artist. The kind of act that would play in theaters and performing arts centers across the country.
In 2008 I realized that dream. I left Modern Drummer in February of that year, and in May I landed the drum chair with 1960s singing icons Jay and The Americans. I’ve now been with the group for fifteen years, and over those years I’ve learned a lot about what it means to be a “road drummer” for shows at our level.
Primarily I’ve learned that there are many practical aspects of playing at the “show” level that anyone aspiring to this sort of work should be prepared for. So, in this article, I’ll pass on some of the insights I’ve gained through experience—with the goal of saving drummers who share the dream I had from having to learn the same things the hard way.
The Nature Of “B Level” Touring
Jay and The Americans average between forty-five and sixty shows per year. But we don’t do lengthy tours. We tend to do single shows on a Friday or Saturday, or perhaps two—usually in two different locations—over a weekend. Once we’re at our destination, we’re either picked up by transportation arranged by the show’s promoter, or we rent vehicles and drive to our hotel. In some cases, we each have our own hotel room; in other cases, I double up with another band member.
It’s hard to describe a “typical” show situation for us, because we play in so many different kinds of venues. These vary from very large, modern performing arts centers to much smaller, older theaters—many of which date back to the vaudeville era. We also play in quite a few casino showrooms, in many of the retirement communities in Florida, and on the occasional Caribbean cruise. Each venue has its unique characteristics—positive and negative. The challenge for us is to give the audience the best possible show under any and all circumstances.
And speaking of the audience, they are one of the great advantages of playing on the show circuit. When I played in local club bands, we never knew what sort of audience we might have from night to night. Sometimes the place was packed; other times it was nearly empty. On some nights the crowd was really appreciative of our playing; other nights they either ignored us completely or sat there with the attitude of “Okay, entertain me.”
It’s a totally different situation on our shows. The people in our audience have purchased tickets to see us. They’re fans who are often reliving their youth by hearing us do the songs they grew up with. They arrive ready to have a good time—and to love us. It’s a very gratifying feeling.
Touring Means Traveling
If the show we’re doing is in a venue more than five hours away from the New York area (where most of the group is based) we’ll usually fly. If it’s less, we’ll drive. And we drive ourselves; we don’t have a tour bus. Sometimes we have to fly and drive, in situations where the show is in a small town some distance from the nearest airport.
A day on the road for us will likely begin with a very early trip to the airport to catch a morning flight, either to our destination or to a connecting airport. We try to travel on the day before a show, in order to allow for unforeseen travel problems—which crop up more often than we’d like. Airline delays and cancellations, highway snarls, and mistaken pickup schedules are fairly common. All we can do in these situations is try to stay cool. Of course, every touring musician has at least one “horror story” about travel problems. Just for entertainment, here’s mine:
We were booked in a club located in Gillette, Wyoming. It had only a tiny airport, so we couldn’t fly there directly. Those of us in the group who were based in the New York City area had to fly to Chicago, then to Denver, and then finally to Gillette on a small commuter plane. It was Valentine’s Day weekend, and the entire eastern US was blasted by a winter snowstorm. We got as far as the Chicago airport, and then everything shut down.
We pleaded with the airline, but the best they could offer was a 6:30 a.m. flight to Denver the next day. That wouldn’t work for us. So, after a lot of research, we learned of a flight leaving Chicago that night…going to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. There we could get a one-way car rental, so we could drive to Gillette.
Sioux Falls is on the eastern border of South Dakota. Gillette is just west of the western border of South Dakota. So, after flying to Sioux Falls and picking up the rental, we left at 10:00 p.m. and headed west on Interstate 90. We drove for the next eight and a half hours, with the last two through a blinding snowstorm that threatened to close the interstate at any minute. We finally arrived at our hotel in Gillette at 6:30 the next morning. We got a few hours of sleep, and then headed to the club for sound check. As they say, “The show must go on.”
Dealing With Backline Gear
Because we do so much traveling, a typical show involves using backline gear. (I only get to use my own drumkit about 20% of the time.) Our rider stipulates the configuration of drumkit that I require, and most of the time I get exactly that. Of course, there have been some shows where the kit was anything but what I asked for. Under those circumstances, you have to make the best of a bad situation.
Here’s an example of a really bad situation, from my own experience: As I said, on most shows the backline gear is perfectly fine…or at least adequate. But on one occasion I ran into what can only be described as a touring drummer’s nightmare. I entered the backstage area of a theater in a small town, only to see an extremely old and dilapidated, entry-level drumkit on the riser. On further examination, I discovered that one of the bass drum spurs wouldn’t lock, both of the tom mount adjustments were stripped, the hi-hat pull rod was bent, and the kit was equipped with student-quality brass cymbals. As I learned later, instead of using a cartage service to provide backline gear, the promoter had tried to save money by borrowing the kit from his twelve-year-old nephew!
Making Yourself Comfortable
A lot of the drummers I know, who play the same sort of shows that I do, like to bring a favorite snare drum or set of cymbals to augment the backline kit that’s provided. This is great if you’re driving to the gig and can bring whatever you like. However, with airlines now charging for second (and sometimes first) checked bags, bringing cymbals and/or a snare drum to a traveling gig has become expensive and impractical. And remember: You’re playing a one-off live show, not making a career-defining recording.
Other drummers I know bring only their stick bag, and just hope that they’ll be able to manage with whatever gear is provided. I don’t subscribe to that practice, either.
I always bring two specific items to any gig—even if it means paying a little extra to get them there. Those items are: my own bass drum pedal and my own drum stool. Why? Because when I have to use an unfamiliar backline kit, I often have only a matter of minutes in which to create a setup that’s playable, let alone perfect. My stool and my pedal establish points of reference for how the entire drumkit should be set up.
Using my own fixed-height stool makes determining the heights and angles of all the drums and cymbals much easier. For example, I know that when I’m seated on my own stool, the rims of the snare drum and floor toms should be level with my belt buckle. This, in turn, gives me a reference point for how high my rack toms and ride cymbal need to be, because I relate their positions to the heights of the snare and floor toms.
Using my own bass drum pedal promotes my comfort and playing technique, because the action is familiar. But even more importantly, using my pedal also helps me to determine the proper distance between my stool and the bass drum. Establishing this distance, in turn, helps me to determine where my cymbal stands need to go.
Before I started taking my stool and pedal to every traveling gig, I’d set up each backline kit to where everything seemed right at soundcheck. But when I actually started playing the show, I’d quickly realize that things were off by half an inch here or there. I was sitting a little too high or too low. The bass drum was too close or too far away. The edges of the cymbals and the rims of the drums weren’t where my muscle memory expected them to be.
I wound up playing poorly, knocking sticks out of my hands, and leaving the gig with a backache and cramps in my feet. It didn’t take me long to determine that bringing my own stool and pedal was a small price to pay for ensuring that my setup was as close to perfect as I could get it on every gig.
In addition to my stool and pedal, I also carry a clamp-on gig tray, which I attach to the stand of my vocal mic’. I use this to hold the brushes, rods, and spare sticks that I use in our show, along with a small mixer for my in-ear monitor. This keeps everything within sight and quick reach for on-the-spot adjustments.
I also travel with some items that you might not need, because I double as road manager for our group. These include some percussion items that our singers use, clamp-on drink holders, towels, and a small pharmacy of head cold and upset stomach remedies, cough drops, band-aids, and the like.
Of course, this means schlepping those items with me as I travel, and checking the bag that contains them. With that in mind, I’ve made sure that the gear I take fits into a single, well-padded, medium-sized hardware bag with wheels. (Those wheels are a godsend when traveling through airports.) Yes, there is some inconvenience involved with loading the bag in and out of vehicles, and with checking it as baggage on flights. But the comfort factor provided by having what I need, when I need it, far outweighs that inconvenience.
Sharing A Drumkit
Jay and The Americans frequently play multi-act shows. Thankfully, we’re most often the headliners, closing the show. In many cases there’s only one other drummer playing for all of the other acts, but in some situations one or more of the other acts has their own drummer. So it’s possible that two or three drummers will be sharing the same backline kit over the course of the show.
Now, a drumkit setup is a pretty personal thing, and every drummer wants to play his or her own. But there’s a fairly well-established protocol when it comes to these multi-drummer situations. And that is that the drummer for the headline act has the highest priority. So, fortunately for me, I’m generally able to set the kit up to suit myself.
However, it doesn’t help the show if none of the other drummers can play comfortably on the kit. This is where some polite conversation is a big help. I make a point to talk with the other drummers, to see if they can be comfortable on my setup. If they can, we’re golden. If not, what sort of compromise can we reach in order to give them at least an approximation of what they need? Often it’s just a matter of tilting the snare drum, raising or lowering cymbals, or swapping out my drum stool for one of a different height. These are things that can be re-adjusted quickly between acts. A little goodwill and cooperation go a very long way toward keeping everyone comfortable and able to play at their best.
On the other hand, occasionally another drummer is insistent about making major changes to the setup. If you’re the headliner, you have every right to refuse to make these changes. If it becomes an issue, you may need to speak with the musical director of the show, or perhaps with the promoter. It boils down to what’s best for the top act—the one that has the most marquee value in terms of putting people in the seats. As they say in the military: Rank has its privileges.
Conversely, if you’re a little lower on the pecking order, don’t be “that guy” who creates problems. Do your best to remain flexible about working on someone else’s preferred setup. Consider it a learning experience, and look forward to the time when you’ll be the closer and have things your way.
Sound Checks
Another aspect of multi-act shows is the practice of “last on—first in” when it comes to sound checking. Sound companies and stage crews like to work backwards, from the closing act of a show to the opening act, so that at the end of sound check the stage and the sound board are set for the opener. This makes perfect sense logistically, but when there are five or six acts on the bill, and each act gets twenty to forty minutes for sound check and/or rehearsal, it pushes the start time for sound check to fairly early in the day.
As I said earlier, Jay and The Americans are often the closers on these shows, which means we do the first sound check. It’s not at all unusual for us to have to be at the theater at 2:00 p.m. in order to sound check for a show on which we won’t hit the stage until nearly 10:00. Sometimes we can go back to the hotel in between, but often not. I tend to stay at the theater anyway to work with the other drummers, as described above. It makes for a long day. But you learn to deal with that, too.
Playing Our Show
The challenge to playing behind an iconic act like Jay and The Americans is that they had a bunch of hit singles. What’s the best way to approach drumming for those songs: Play them just like the record, or give them a new take?
For me, it’s been a compromise of both approaches. When I first joined the group, I tried to capture the style and sound of the original recordings as best I could. Those songs were recorded in the 1960s and early ’70s, when the New York and LA studios boasted some of the greatest musicians in history. And the records featured a lot of production: horns, strings, multiple percussionists, and the best rhythm sections the producers could find. On our shows, it’s just me, a keyboard player, a guitar player, and a bass player. On rare occasions we get to add horns, which is a real treat.
What I’m getting at is that our live show has evolved, out of necessity. The band definitely tries to capture the original character of each song—because our audiences are mostly very dedicated fans who know them all. But we also recognize that we’re doing a live performance, so we want to keep the performances fresh and exciting.
Playing For Different Shows
You may get into show drumming by being hired to play for many different acts, rather than touring with just one. (That’s what I did before joining Jay and The Americans.) In this situation, the best thing to do is study the original recordings, get charts ahead of time if possible, and follow instructions given by the bandleader or musical director to the letter. If you’re asked to contribute your own input, do so with confidence, but not ego. You might have all the technique in the world, but you need to know when not to use it.
In these situations, you need to be ready for anything. On many occasions I’ve played in the “house band” for a show featuring five or six different acts. The band generally gets just a quick run-through of each tune with each act during sound check. More than once I’ve rehearsed three tunes with a particular act, only to have them decide to do different tunes after they came on stage. We didn’t have charts for those tunes; the act just assumed that we’d know them.
By far my worst experience on a show band gig was coming to a rehearsal for an oldies act that shall remain nameless, only to learn that they performed their entire show to mastered tracks. But they didn’t want the audience to know that. Instead, they wanted the house band to be on stage behind them, acting as if we were playing. Aside from feeling really insulted (They couldn’t just let us play those easy tunes….?), we all felt pretty silly—especially me, since I had to mime playing obviously stick-created backbeats with brushes in my hands.
A Great Feeling
Over the past fifteen years I’ve learned that most of the “glamour” associated with rock ‘n’ roll touring has to do with the time you’re actually performing on stage. It’s entirely possible that you’ll spend an entire day of traveling, sound checking, rehearsing, and…waiting…just to play a 90-minute (or less) show.
But I’m here to tell you, those ninety minutes make it all worthwhile. There’s nothing like the satisfaction of knowing you’ve done a great show for an audience that’s screaming their appreciation. I’ve been playing drums professionally for almost fifty years, and that’s still the greatest feeling I know.
Drummer, educator and journalist Rick Van Horn is best known to the drumming world through his twenty-four years with Modern Drummer magazine. Rick started as a regular columnist in 1980 and, after joining the MD staff in 1983 as managing editor, Rick was later promoted to the post of senior editor— a position he held until February of 2008. Within that period he also produced and emceed eighteen consecutive Modern Drummer Festival Weekends, making him one of the most recognizable personalities in the drumming industry.
@rick.vanhorn.73
