My first hero

This may come as a surprise, but my heroes weren’t musicians growing up. Paul Hester was the exception to the rule (isn’t he always?) but most of my heroes when I was in primary school were sports people, the first of which was Ange Christou. This is where it gets a bit confusing.

I’m a St Kilda supporter (for those of you that follow AFL will know exactly what that means, for those that don’t, the words “always the bridesmaid” seem to come to mind. The last time St Kilda won the premiership, my mum was 6. We once lost three grand finals in a year – two in 8 days. That hurt) Ange played for Carlton. They don’t hate each other but they’re kind of opposites in every way. Carlton have a long, proud history is success and St Kilda? Well, see above. So, how come my very first sporting hero belonged to another team? A few reasons.

Firstly, as a footballer, he was just that good. He played a game on Sunday and kicked the ball half way across the field. Every time he got the ball you knew it would go exactly where it needed to. Ange didn’t make mistakes. I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t.

Also, he was always a gentleman. Still is. On Sunday he was taking photos with people and signing autographs between play. We were all standing in the rain together. You’d never hear about Ange being an idiot in the press. There was no news of him saying impolite things to women in bars (Wayne Carey I’m looking at you) and although he’d get involved in things like The Footy Show. He never seemed to forget what his first job was.

I first came across Ange at a football clinic when I was 8. This was before the days of mobile phones and slutty 16 year old girl scandals. From then on, I was in. The next year my slight interest in football had turned to something bordering on obsession. Carlton had won the Grand Final, Ange was a champion. Life was good.

I went to the football nearly every week, knew all the players names, played as often as I could and put every bit of my childhood energy to good use, chasing a bit of leather around a football field. Sport taught me determination and discipline and have me more than a few injuries.

After a few years of playing I have a back no one can touch without me wanting to rip their arms off and knees that are two different shapes. Was it worth it? Yep.

These days I apply that same discipline to my playing, to the time I spend in the gym and to other aspects of life. Of course, the great game has changed since I was running around. Now I’d prefer to see something like the Legends match I watched on Sunday. Ange was also the first person I knew who was a fan of U2. Is it any wonder I thought he was great?

Let me tell you about a boy called Paul.

You know how some names just follow you? I once knew so many Daryl’s that I gave them all adjectives before their name – good Daryl, bad Daryl, my favorite… You know how it goes. Any way, it’s kind of the same with boys called Paul. Let me tell you about the first one though – Paul Hester.

I’ve touched on this before. In fact, I tried writing this very blog at least twice yesterday but never got around to finishing it and then when I did, it just didn’t feel right, so here I am, trying again.

Paul was my first celebrity crush. I was five. I dreamed that I’d grow up and he’d teach me how to play drums. One of those things happened. Sadly, at five, no one mentioned that because I’m Maltese, we don’t really get to grow up. I got to 5.3 and stopped.

For those that don’t know, Paul happened to play drums with Crowded House and Split Enz. He wasn’t just a drummer, though. He was THE drummer. He was so full of life- he was cheeky and brash and warm and outrageous. Something that shy little me admired and enjoyed. I’d be staring at my feet and he’d be running around like a kid on red cordial. He was hilarious.

It’s fair to say that Paul is the reason I play drums. The first instruments I picked up were classical, purely out of the fact that I didn’t have access to other instruments, but web then all I wanted to do was to drum. The first time I got behind a kit, it felt like the most natural thing on earth to me. It still does now. If ever I’m having a shit day, if I have the kind of frustration that would normally cause me to get into a fight with some poor, unsuspecting sod I sit behind the drum kit and suddenly, I feel better. Any concerns? I lock myself away in my music room until the storm passes. There have been other drummers that I’ve admired (Max Weinberg, Paul Wheeler) but it all comes back to Paul. I wouldn’t have gone near the sticks in the first place if he didn’t make it look like so much fun.

To this day, I remember the last time we were together. I remember his joy, him making some stupid comment about smoking a joint on stage, him talking about new projects that he wanted to focus on and making me laugh with outlandish observations that later turned out to be true. I often wonder what he’d say if he was around today. He’d probably laugh at my nose bleeds and tell me I always over thought. I think he’d laugh at a few things, actually. Till we meet again Hess, I’ll be behind the kit.

Some days

 

 

Words are good for nothing. Have a song instead.

 

That’s all she wrote

Well, if you didn’t get down to 114 last night, you missed out. It was the last Lazyboys gig for a while. They’ll be back on November 17.

I didn’t get time to play drums or go to the gym yesterday because apparently being nice to the person that gave birth to you is more important *sighs* she’ll always have that over me.

I’m hanging to get back on it, though. I’m on earlies this week so there is every chance that it will happen. Whilst I was at the Lazyboys gigs last night, I had another music related thought – I need to start drumming to Crowded House again. That’s going to be a tough gig for me since Paul is the very reason I started drumming and he’s since gone to the big gig in the time, but it’s what he would want and maybe I might actually remember something? I’ll add it to the play list. I’m listening to The Rolling Stones at the moment and thinking about what a killer September I’ve had. I’ll try and put the soundtrack up later.

Enjoy your day and listen to Springsteen – I finally heard the first CD of my bootleg yesterday and wow, what a great gig that was!

The story so far . . . .

As far as my drumming goes, the story so far is like this:

Paul Hester made me want to drum. When he died, the drummer in me died too. I’ve played other instruments and the only thing that comes close to the way I feel when I’m playing drums is bass. I would say the two are level. I always felt like something was missing when I lost the drummer in me. There were a few guys around that made me want to drum again. Hearing covers of Led Zep and Deep Purple helped. It looked like fun. So I bought a drum kit, but it was kind of half hearted – soon enough that changed. Two magical days in March were spent watching the man who would be my inspiration. His name is Max and he really knows what to do on the kit. Every time I feel like it’s too hard or I don’t want to try today, there is Max. Sometimes when I’ve been drumming for hours and I think it’s time to try something else (this is the down side to having so many instruments!) there is Max. Max plays in the E Street Band and if I don’t keep practicing, I’ll never be as good as Max.

 

Ladies and gentlemen, out of all the footprints left on my musical soul, one of the biggest has to belong to Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. I have friends who are musicians who remind me of what it’s about when I see them play, but with these guys, I only have to hear them to know I need to try harder. They are the measuring stick by which every note is compared to and yes, there’s a big space between where I am and where these guys are, but I do believe you try harder if you have something to try for.  Evidence of this is when I tried playing the drums to Tenth Avenue. My drum teacher said that I was “swimming outside the flags now” which is good, because you can’t get to the other side if you stay in the shallow end. 

 

The other thing I love about Bruce and band is the emotion. There’s so much emotion – it’s in the music, in the songs, in the performance and hell, just getting tickets to the gigs made me so excited I wasn’t sure whether I was going to cry, vomit or wee my pants a little bit . It was a very exciting five minutes. I’m into anything that will make me feel something. It’s the reason I love Joy Division, it’s the reason I love punk and it’s the reason I think the Springsteen band are the best band in the world. I spent about 5 years dead on my feet – couldn’t feel a thing, so the idea of music being able to make you feel something, to be able to change that still seems miraculous to me. Was I just listening to the wrong stuff all that time? Who knows, but one thing is for sure – when I hear Dancing In The Dark I see every happy moment I’ve known for the past four years flashing before my eyes. When I hear Waiting On A Sunny Day, I have hope and when I hear Tenth Avenue Freeze Out, I have joy. That’s the power of music.

 

The reason I love this band is simple – they’re the perfect storm. Bruce writes songs that you want to sing to, dance to and live by. Max makes me want to be a better drummer, Garry makes me want to be a better bass player, Steve, Nils and Tom make me want to be a better guitarist and I’m a in a huge amount of trouble when I decide I want to try and be Roy.  I love other bands for many reasons, but for feel, performance and talent, the E Street Band just has that little bit more.

Ladies and gentlemen: Crowded House

So, I went through a phase where I wasn’t much into decent music (we can thank my sister for that) and was yesterday trying to work out how I got back into the good stuff.

Although my parents have always had a decent record collection, they never forced their taste of music on me so I was left to discover everything for myself. The way I did this was by watching things like Australian Idol when I was sixteen and thinking “I know this song” and then finding the original artist, finding other stuff they’d done and going back through their influences – it all changed when I remembered Crowded House.

I mean, I hadn’t exactly forgotten them, I’d been in love with their drummer since I was five, but there is something about hearing that music after you haven’t heard it in a while that really hits you between the eyes.

As a drummer, Paul Hester made me want to play. He still does. When I go back and watch old DVDs or listen to CDs of his playing, I always end up feeling inspired. He had such a spark, such a way about him that was magnificent to watch – and you never knew what he was going to say next.

Then there is Nick on bass. It took me a while to appreciate Nick as a player and it wasn’t until recently that I did, really. This is what makes him such a great player – you almost don’t notice what’s there. He just plays what needs to be played without any fuss and it’s not until you really listen that you realize what he brings to the band.

To top it all off, there are the luscious songs and voice of Neil Finn. When I was selecting my first guitar I wanted an acoustic because it was good enough for Neil most of the time, so it was good enough for me. The man could write good songs in his sleep. Songs such as Don’t Dream It’s Over, Better Be Home Soon and Distant Sun that have become a part of Australia’s musical DNA.

So thank you, Crowded House for inspiring me as a drummer, guitarist and songwriter and for re opening a world of music for the 16 year old version of me to discover

There goes my hero

Did I ever tell you about the first drummer I fell in love with? You see, drumming has been something that’s taken me longer to arrive at then it should have. I had tried before and got quite good, but then it all disappeared.

Anyway, yesterday I heard one of my favourite songs at the gym and it reminded me of the first drummer I fell in love with. I was five. I wanted to grow up and play drums just like him, but the combination of me being Maltese and a drummer meant that I was destined not to grow up.

Lame jokes aside, my first drum hero was Paul Hester. There was just something about his playing. When He left Crowded House and Neil Finn had to find a replacement he said he found the task nigh on impossible as there was no one out there with the same feel as Paul, not to mention the same personality.

As a drummer, Paul was impeccable. He even sat in with midnight oil once. Hearing him talk about it was hilarious. The thing I love is that he wasn’t about speed, although he could do it, he was about playing for the fun of playing, playing what fit and where it fit, playing what needed to be played.

Coming back to personality, drummers are always kind of categorized as these cheeky, lovable, outgoing types. Just look at the likes of Ringo Starr and Keith Moon. When a member of a band’s done something a little bit naughty, the blame is usually pointed at the drummer. Paul wasn’t a disappointment in that area either. Maybe that comes with the name? I know another Paul who likes to push the boundaries on stage. You never know what to expect, when either of them open their mouths to say something.

Anyway, that’s enough sharing from me today. No, I didn’t play drums yesterday. I know I should have, the power was on, but I’d been up since stupid o’clock and came home, ate and then put myself to bed. I’ll make sure I do something tonight. I’m still trying to get through watching a Springsteen DVD, but I don’t even have time for that! Thank goodness for iPods.