Point of View

Meeting A.D

Knowing that I was in the market for a new drum instructor, Steve, a friend of mine from my third place, suggested that I call his drummer, A.D and set up a time to meet with him. I placed the call right away. I introduced myself and explained that I was a friend of Steve and that’s all it took. He acted as if we were long-time friends. I spoke to A.D about where I was musically and that I was looking for another dynamic; another approach in sharpening my skills as a drummer. “Bro, I can defiantly help you out,” he told me.
I met A.D at his studio the following week. He is my age, shaved head, both ears pierced and says dude allot. We hit it off right away and I felt like I was hanging out with a friend and not so much like a teacher-student. His studio is located in an industrial park area in west Phoenix and not much to look at from the outside. He led me through a series of doors and hallways; all covered in old cymbals and record album covers. Stacked along the walls were speaker crates, mic stands, speaker cable, and other musical paraphernalia. “Excuse the mess dude,” he begged. A.D explained that they were installing a new mixing board and processor and were here until 3am the previous morning. I wasn’t worried about “the mess.” It looked as it should. There against the back wall and setting on a riser was a completed set of acoustic drums. I poked around while A.D started switching on the components and lighting for his make-shift stage. The walls were covered in a gray egg carton-like foam material to contain the sounds produced during practice sessions. More speaker crates and stacks of speakers were haphazardly placed throughout the room. A lighting rig framed the shinny black drum kit and centered above that was an old disco ball.
A.D offered me bottled water and told me to climb on up and get comfortable. I gave A.D all the training material I had been using with Arik and explained that we had been working through the table of time, stick control and form at which time I heard the sound of the books hitting the floor. “Hey bro, this stuff is good but let’s not be so anal,” he said through a smile. “Play something for me,” he asked. “Like what,” I asked. A.D sat in the chair next to me, his legs crossed patiently waiting. “Just play the drums dude,” he told me. I slowly started pounding out the beats that typically fill my head on a daily basis, trying to make a good impression while getting the feel of the kit. I went through some rolls on the snare and expanded to the toms and cymbals while A.D yelped words of praise and encouragement. “Right-on dude,” he cheered.
From my little performance, A.D started showing me variations, based on sixteen paradiddle exercises that could be arranged to obtain a whole range of beats. We worked off of sheet music that he wrote as we went along, each note my own and strictly from my lesson. It was not just a lesson, but an experience that has only just begun. It is what I have been looking for in a mentor and look forward to getting back up on that little stage in west Phoenix.