Writing

As a drummer, I always felt I needed to master the instrument before I considered working on anything else.  Endless hours in the practice room dominated my time, seeking to get a hold on this "four limbed monster" called the drum kit.

At the UMKC Conservatory of Music, I took piano classes and began to experiment with my own ideas, but the drums called for most of my time and focus.  My knowledge of harmony was pretty limited, although my ears were expanding every day, hanging with friends and listening to records, learning more and more tunes by ear.

My roommates had guitars around the house and I started learning chords.  It was very difficult, contorting my hand into positions that seemed nearly impossible for a human hand.  But, eventually, I could play major, minor and dominant chords enough to be able to begin assembling my own ideas.  

It was liberating.  I could play the guitar with no expectations.  It was pure fun.  Soon, a few tunes were born.  Mostly country-ish jams that were super simple, yet very rewarding for me.  Then a while later I took guitar classes at the New School and opened up my chord vocabulary.  More tunes were born, but mostly the basic germ of the tune, just a foundational idea or starting point.  

With help of friends who would suggest chords to go with my melodies, I completed a batch of tunes.  But I wasn't really satisfied with them.  I recorded them on a few occasions.  Two of them are on my album "Suit-up!" which was produced by Dave Stryker and also featured Kyle Koehler on B-3.  

The response to my tunes was very encouraging.  One of them played on XM Radio and I got some royalty checks in the mail.  Wow!  OK.  Let's do more.  

I sat down with almost 20 years of ideas that I'd documented on cassettes, mini-discs and on the computer.  Many of them were unfinished, but had potential.  But, like Charles Bukowski said:  Potential doesn't mean anything... You've got to DO IT."  

So I searched and found a local piano teacher, Bob Himmelberger, who listened to my whole life story about never really getting my piano thing together and started me on a path to being able to finish my tunes.  It was not going to be easy, but at this point, what else am I going to do?  What's to lose?

I learned scales in all 12 keys.  Minor, Major and Dominant chords in root position.  This took a minute, but so far so good.  Then all the chords using A and B voicings.  The anty was raised and this took quite a while.  Then 2-5-1 progressions in all 12 keys using the new voicings.  Then 2-5-2 Tri tone subs.  Then standards like "Lady Bird" and "Confirmation".  

Soon, I understood how to use chord tones and I sat down with my collection of ideas and started adding melodies, then new sections to the tunes, then finally, finishing some of them.  This was quite possibly the most rewarding thing ever!

I took the tunes to sessions and played them down with the cats.  It was like going back to school!  Some of the tunes clunked along like cars with a wheel missing, but at least now I knew what to do.  I went back and fourth to the drawing board, until finally I had 12 new tunes!

This was quite a thing for me.  Drummers are often stigmatized with not being complete musicians, which can be true in some cases if the drummer is not hearing the harmony.  A drummer may not know the complete theory behind a 2-5-1, but if you can hear it, then you can play accordingly.  But now really knowing what's going on, theoretically and sonically with the piano, I felt a big change in my playing and hearing.  

Anyways, I write about all this because it has been such a journey for me and has opened up a lot of doors.  I understand music itself much better now and even tho I have a long way to go, it feels really good to have my own book of music to play and record.  

If you're a drummer and you're reading this, maybe you are thinking about those piano lessons, or wondering how to get started writing your own music.  

One of the best ways to get started is to do just that: get started.  And take it from there.  

There is an artist inside you.  Composition reveals that.  Especially when you're absolutely true to yourself.  Yeah, you could use someone else's chord changes and melodies, but when you're true to your ear, you'll have your own sound.  I really believe that.

Anyways, that's a little piece of what I've been experience in writing.  It's getting better all the time and there ain't nothing to it but to do it.  Write.  learn.  And write some more.  

Music: I'm your biggest fan

There is usually music in the house.  The radio goes on in our living room first thing in the morning.  Our car has an iPod with 160gigs of music on it.  We have a growing LP collection.  Music is part of our lives, like a soundtrack.

I became a fan of music when I was 3 or 4 years old when I first heard the song "Magic" by a band called Pilot.  Mom went to the record store and picked up the 45rpm record of the song and I still have that record, one of my most prized and cherished possessions.  After that, it was game on.  

The record player was my hidden universe.  I played it for hours.  Listened to my favorite records at all the speeds:  45, 33, 78 and even 16.  I was and still am fascinated by sound, rhythm, theme, melody, harmony... the whole thing.

As I became a musician, I also became an even bigger fan of music.  Later, when I studied piano I could heard deeper into the music.  It's endless really.

My favorite musicians are those who can somehow create something fresh and new and interesting, yet make it listenable.  Listenable.  Now there's a word.  That word means a lot to me because there is a lot of music out there that, while technically amazing, is simply not something I can really listen to. Some music picks you up, some music surrounds you with a feeling that you can relate to.  Other music sometimes feels like it's coming at you like a machine gun and you can't get out of the way other than to just shut it off.  

I think about this a lot.  I think it's one of the biggest, if not the biggest challenge of jazz.  How to transcend the technicalities an make the music listenable yet satisfy the artists creative reach.  Herbie Hancock is somebody who comes to mind.  Herbie came to a point at which he said  something to the effect of...  I don't want to lay some heavy musical trip on people, I just want them to like my records.  He said that he was at a party once, and his records were not playing.  What was playing was Sly Stone and James Brown.  Hmm... 

So, Herbie, being the genius and naturally gifted and intelligent cat that he is, adapted.  He put out an album called "Fat Albert Rotunda" with some great funky songs on it like "Wiggle Waggle" and it still had that Herbie thing, yet it was more listenable for a wider audience.  Herbie continued with the Headhunters band, and later with his huge hit "Rockit" and then again with "Dis is Da Drum" and then again with "Possibilities" and the "New Standard".  

I can't think of anybody who DOESN'T love Herbie Hancock.  

So, I think about this a lot.  If I quit playing, writing and teaching... I'd remain a huge fan of music.

How does this factor into writing and playing?

Well, if I write something that sounds good to me, then I feel like there's a good chance somebody else will like it.  The tricky part is that it must satisfy me as an artist, yet still be something somebody would want to listen to.. and hopefully want to listen to again and again.  

I feel like if a musician can come from the music fan inside them, then they have a connection to honesty.  They have a connection to truth.  If it becomes something done to satisfy other musicians, or to be "heavy" or whatever, then I think that it's in danger of becoming disconnected from the truth.  

John Coltrane is maybe the prime example of somebody who achieved this to the highest degree.  Monk, too.  Bill Evans.  But especially Coltrane found that rare place of total truth from which his music flowed.  His search was incessant.  And thru that truth, he found a sort of complex simplicity that spoke from his artistic truth and connected with listeners.  Most people are not Coltrane or Monk fans because they found new ways to address harmony.  It's the "listenable" factor.  

This is something I think about often.  When I put on music, sometimes it's the absolute opposite of technically challenging and dense notey music.  Seriously, I put on Johnny Cash or Merle Haggard and I get a lot out of it because they are speaking from their artistic truth, and that makes them listenable to me. Same with Motorhead, Stevie Wonder, Buck Owens, Eberhard Weber, Seal, or whoever... How's that for a list?  

And I tend to go back to many of the same records to drink from this well of truth.  Sometimes I think, man, I need to check out more new music.  Of course, but I also feel like there is so much truth in an album like "Love Supreme" that I can go back to that, again and again, and the well never goes dry.  

In the end though, I'm just a big fan of music. 

Re-discovering the bike

When I was a kid growing up in Hannibal, Missouri, I practically lived on a bicycle.  There was no better feeling than to jump on the bike and feel the cool breeze on my face as I sped away from home, down the giant hill on Flora Av, past Mark Twain Elementary, down St. Mary's Av. and off to wherever my will wished.  It was simple, yet it required effort in the hills of Hannibal.  The bike expanded one's horizons, circle of friends, possibilities, and it represented your spirit of freedom.  Sometimes, when you see somebody on a bike, they look as if they haven't a care in the world, yet they are determined, they are moving forward.  They are going somewhere.

I have a big scar on my chin from attempting to ride down Flora Av. hill.  At five or six years old, I thought it was time.  I probably thought: What would Spiderman or Luke Skywalker do?  So I tried it.  On this bike:  

Despite an epic crash and several stitches to the chin, I tried again and succeeded.   

When I was 10 I started racing.  BMX.  We hauled the bike up to Quincy, Ill to the dirt race track and I competed in three "motos" a day.  Sometimes it was glorious, winning a trophy against the Quincy boys.  Other times, a devastating crash would send me back to Hannibal with bruises and broken ego.  But it was fun!  

My bike afforded me acceptance into a group of older boys who, rode the bike trails in Hannibal and raced at Quincy.  We became pretty tight and the summers were adventures in dare-devil jumps, muddy trails, racing down St. Mary's avenue, searching for that next awesome ramp or natural berm to jump on.  

My bike became a part of my identity.  I even started wearing a little biker cap with the flip bill that had the brand "Campagnolo" on it, which nobody else in school wore, something I was extremely proud of.  Even tho I had no Campagnolo gear, I just dug the hat!

BMX was my passion.  I raced for three seasons, first on a Mongoose (I cut a lot of lawns and raked a lot of leaves to save up for it), then on a Kuwahara (the bike that was made famous in the movie E.T.).  Even after a major crash landed me in the hospital with potentially ruptured intestines (luckily they were not)  I continued racing.

Then, adolescence came.  Jr. High.  Jazz Band.  Drumline.  Big Changes.

As music became my main focus, I sold the Kuwaraha for a Zildjian ride cymbal.  My first Zildjian!  Exciting times!

However, I still needed to get around Hannibal autonomously, so started riding my brother's Schwinn touring bike.  A very nice machine from the early 80s.  It was, of course, much easier to pedal over the hills of Hannibal, a welcome upgrade!

I saw a couple cycling movies that inspired me.  "Quicksilver" with Kevin Bacon playing a down and out wall street trader to takes to cycling around NYC and "American Flyers" with Kevin Costner about a couple guys bent on riding.  And of course one of my favorite movies of all time "Breaking Away", a coming of age movie about kids in a small town who are looked down upon because they are poor, but in the end they win the big cycling race.  I still love that movie and will watch it over and over.  I wanted badly to cycle, but the gear was so expensive, I had to choose between cycling gear and drums.

I chose music. Moved to Kansas City.  No time for the bike. And besides, I couldn't carry a drum kit on a bike!

In college my beloved old Schwinn fell to the wayside as I joined a band, moved into a bachelor pad, and simply couldn't afford to maintain the bike.  It rusted.  I moved out and left the bike where it lay.  

I moved to NYC.  Lived in Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan for 10 years.  Riding a bike seemed like suicide, human beings speeding around in traffic seemed so vulnerable,  not to mention I still couldn't afford to spend money on one.  Anyways, I worked non-stop on my music and survival in NYC, a bike was last on the list.  But still, somewhere in my mind I thought it would be so cool to ride again, even if only on the bike path around the city.  But I didn't act on it.

Then I moved to New Jersey.  The traffic is so dense and moves so fast, I figured I couldn't trust my life to these people.  Thoughts of buying a bike were quickly dismissed.  Another 10 years went by as I worked non-stop on my music.

Then my wife and I discovered the Greenway at Metuchen: a 3.5 mile paved trail, specifically for bikes and walking.  How intriguing!  I began thinking about getting a bike now.  Maybe this is the ticket!  No traffic! And I figured, I deserve to treat myself.  Life in NYC/NJ has been stressful as hell and relentless and draining.  I needed a new view.  Some oxygen.  Some freedom.

A quick scan of bikes on Craigslist revealed a shocking and exciting prospect:  The same exact Schwinn Sports Tourer that I rode in high school, even the same colors, was for sale, renovated and ready to ride.  I jumped in the car, drove to Brooklyn and bought it on the spot.

After taking it to Jay's Cycles in Westfield for a tune up, new pedals and a new seat, I set out on my first ride.  It was such a rush to feel that freedom again, that youthful adventure, the feeling of exploration and challenge.  Let's see what this bike can do!

I took it on the Greenway and I'll tell you what, man, the wind, the sound of the bike, that familiar feel, the freedom... something in me woke up that had been asleep for, gulp!, almost 30 years.  The kid in me came bursting to the surface like a person held underwater coming up for air.  A grin came over my face.  The cool air on my skin felt so good.  The fluidity of the bike, the grace of it, being one with the machine.  I almost started crying, man!

Since that day a few weeks ago I have increased my rides.  I've ridden The 12 mile stretch at Sandy Hook Beach.  Then the 20 mile stretch from Keyport to Sandy Hook.  Next is going to be a 30 mile or 40 mile ride.  Im taking it slow.  It's getting better and better.  If I prove to myself that I will stick with it, which I can't imagine letting this go again, I will invest in a modern bike next year and head to the mountains of Pennsylvania or upstate NY.  

How could I have let this go?  Well, it doesn't matter.  Why?  Because bikes don't go in reverse.  They only go FORWARD. 

The Campagnolo Kid indeed rides again!

Matt Kane's "Canopus Improvisation #1"

The Piano

When I was 13 or 14, some local musicians recognized my talent and told my father that I was a good drummer, but if I was going to be a great musician, then I needed to play some piano.

I got lessons.  I tried, but it didn't work out.  It wasn't the right time.  I was restless and distracted.  We couldn't afford a piano, so we got this little electric keyboard that was difficult to play and without any real inspiration from the instrument or the teacher, I quit.

Then came music school.

I was awarded a scholarship to The Conservatory of Music at Kansas City.  For playing drums.  When I got to school, my first class was Piano 101, 8am.  I stuck with it.  I learned my major scales in all 12 keys.  But then, when second semester came, I dropped out.  Just couldn't stay with it.  I was't making any music with the instrument that I enjoyed.  It was all theoretical.

As the years went by, I regretted not staying with piano.  I picked up guitar, easily and taught myself all the basic chords.   But the piano remained a mystery.

I even became intimidated by the piano.  Mostly because it just confused me and I couldn't play even the most simple of songs on it.  Whenever I'd try to sit down and learn something, I just got frustrated because I couldn't get my mojo on it like I could drums and guitar.

More years went by, finally I bought a keyboard, a decent one.  I wrote my first tune on it.  I'd get a melody going that I liked, then I'd ask friends what chords went with the melody.  I really should have been able to figure that out, but I leaned on friends who were happy to talk music theory at me, leaving me in the dust after one or two concepts.

I tried a few more times to deal with it.  At the New School in NYC, and then again with friends who said they could teach me.  It always ended the same way:  frustration and the wall between me and the piano getting taller and thicker.

Then, I found a guy in my neighborhood.  A real teacher who happens to be a great jazz player.  Cool!  I went to him, paid him, and sat down to learn.

We stared off with major scales, the 5 kinds of 7th chords and that was my mission.  I created a practice journal and kept detailed track of my progress.  In a few months, I could play "Satin Doll" by Duke Ellington.  Progress at last!

Where most musicians would go straight over my head with theoretical talk, my new teacher kept it totally simple.  Suddenly, things began to stick.  I learned inversions of the chords, a task that took several months, but I did it.

In  time, I found that I preferred practicing piano to practicing drums.  I enjoyed making music, chords, colors.  I got addicted to it.

Then, after the first year of study, I was playing songs like "Ladybird" and "Confirmation".  I learned all these Tri-Tone Subs for the 2-5-1 progression.  Now it was starting to sound a little like Bill Evans!  This made me very happy.

Then, I made a huge leap and bought a Yamaha piano.  A beautiful upright U-1.  I played a chord and listened to it ring out.....   The sonics of the strings seemed to change colors as the chord faded.  It fascinated me.  I sat there all day, playing chords and listening.

Then something really cool happened.  I played a gig on drums with a piano trio, and I felt like I didn't have to play so much.  In fact, there were many times when I stopped myself from instinctually jumping in and playing the beat right away, I listened more.  The drums became something different.

The next gig it happened again, this time even more.  I could let the bass and piano be heard more clearly.  I found myself finding ways to not play as much cymbals, so that I could hear the sonics of the bass and piano.  Suddenly, even playing standards became infinitely more interesting and the possibilities became open ended.

I'd heard drummers talk about the piano changing their hearing, but I never understood until now.

Another cool thing that happened:  I started finishing tunes that I'd started, but couldn't finish.  I put melodies on these cool vamps I'd written, then added a bridge or another section.  My tunes started to make sense, started to sound like what I wanted to write.  This was/is exciting!  I learned about chord tones, passing tones, leading tones.  Ah moments came left and right.

So, I write this post for drummers who are maybe intimidated of the piano, maybe they don't know where to start.  My best advice, find a teacher who lives close to you and who is consistent.  Also, they must know what you want out of it.  Do you want to be a concert pianist?  Probably not.  You need a basic understanding of music as a whole, and as far as the piano is concerned, you just need to be able to play enough to get what you want out of it.  The right teacher is key.  Take your time and find the right teacher, not just a friend who can help you with some theory, not a buddy who wants to trade piano lessons for drum lessons.  Get a real teacher.  one who has a track record.  One who has a method worked out.

The piano is such a joy now and it's only getting better.  I'm really glad I gave it another chance.

Follow Through

"Knowledge isn't enough.  You have to do it."

I think about this quote a lot and about the phrase "Follow Through."

Life presents many opportunities and people usually imagine all of the boundless possibilities in such opportunities and situations.  But there is something missing between the idea itself and the realization of the idea.

Follow Through.

This applies to everything.  Finishing what you start.

Let's apply it to music.

All of us know that there is a very cut and dry side of music that we have to learn if we expect to be able to comprehend the totality of music: harmony, melody, rhythm and form.  We know what we have to do, our teachers lay it out for us.   For drummers it goes something like:

The snare drum and the rudiments.  The kit and coordination.  Feel.  Timekeeping.  Playing with people.  Learning songs, styles, idioms.  Professionalism.  Study.  Vision.  Purpose.

Along the way, we hit walls that challenge our discipline.  The best musicians scale these walls with thorough study, consistency, determination. Clarity of vision.  And Follow Through.

The best musicians go past where most are unwilling to go.  They have the discipline.  But, most will stop at the edge of their discipline, gaze out at the vista of discovery, and decide that it's too much work.  There are other, easier things to do.  And so they settle, they remain where they are at.  They make excuses and avoid the discipline it takes to move past what it is that is challenging them.

It is common for less talented students of music move past those with more talent and opportunity with sheer follow through.  I have seen some with supreme talent, with their road seemingly set to greatness, fold like a cardboard house at the slightest challenging winds.

Speaking for myself, I have experienced both sides of the fence.  In my early life,  I lacked the discipline to really follow through.  I glossed over things and let my talent cover it.  Later, my talent was no longer enough.  So, I started learning discipline through hours in the practice room.  I willed myself past my idea of what discipline was and forged a new idea, a new standard of discipline.

I couldn't always hold it.  At times, I made excuses.  At times, I folded.  But as I got older, I found discipline to be the prime source of fulfillment in my life.  I thrive on it now.  A day lived with discipline is a day living in forward motion.  A day without discipline is a step backward and likely a wasted opportunity.

I have learned a lot about Follow Through by observing myself, but also my students.   I have seen students come in methodically, always prepared, and they improve steadily with quality and thoughtfulness.  I have seen them come in and totally wing it, thinking that their talent would get them over, or that they could blow off the work they were supposed to do, probably thinking.. "Ah, I do it someday."

Follow Through in your stroke.

Follow Through in what you're doing.

Follow Through in your communications with people.

Follow Through with your intentions.

Follow Through completes a thought.  It completes, makes whole, ties up the loose ends.

Follow Through continues something: a promise, a relationship, an idea.

Follow through with your undertakings.  Finish them.

Like this post.

Have a great day.

Fin.

Freedom Through Discipline

Discipline is a powerful word.  As youngsters we know it to mean something negative, like getting in trouble, a trip to the principal's office.  As we get older, we begin to see it in a different light.

Discipline starts to mean self-control.

We see it play out in people's lives.  We see those who have little discipline seem to go up and down in life.  And, we see those who seem to have a lot of discipline seem to always come out ok, always be steady, always be prepared.  And as a result, they are the ones who stack up the gains, the goals attained.  You never see them too up or too down and they don't seem to be sweating anything.  They seem at ease and sure of themselves.  What they have created is:

Freedom Through Discipline.

Discipline is the methodology, methodical, way of living that leads to freedom.  How interesting and simple!  By 'restricting ourselves' and being disciplined, we create freedom.  Freedom through discipline.

Freedom from what?  From being discombobulated!  From being hurried.  From being unsure, unprepared, caught off guard.  Freedom from the X factor of the unknown.  You have created your life, you know the limits, you know the potential, you are on sure footing.  At least as sure as one can be in this life.

Freedom from not knowing.

I remember how I felt when I was a child and could not yet read.  It bothered me that I couldn't read, I felt left out and I wanted to know what everything said.  I needed to know.  I had to know.  So I went beyond my school class and learned to read.  I asked questions, I stumbled over words, but I got it.  It didn't even feel like discipline, but it was.

Discipline creates freedom.  Nothing is left to chance, therefore you can be an even greater improvisor.

Discipline is everything.  Everything stems from it.