Human fingernails grow from cuticle to fingertip in about six months. That means my fingernails have turned over about 90 times since I last picked up drum sticks.
But as they say: Once a drummer, always a drummer.
From ages 12 to 22, I almost never went more than 24 hours without drumsticks in my hands. Starting in seventh grade, I marched in one of the best scholastic bands in the state at the time, Columbia Central High School in Middle Tennessee. We were in the hunt for state championships almost every year, often a bridesmaid to Nashville’s McGavock High School. I made all-state band as a percussionist a couple of times in the 1970s.
At Middle Tennessee State University, I was a scholarship member of the Band of Blue and was captain of the drum line my senior year. At 22, I graduated college and put down my sticks.
But drumming is a state of mind. I can still do a competent double-stroke roll using just four fingers, and the steering wheel in my truck gets hammered with drum fills when I’m listening to my funk playlist on Spotify.
I grew up in a one-bathroom duplex in Columbia, and there was no room for a drum kit, even if I had the money.
Still, I always had a dream of owning a nice set of drums. Maybe a Ludwig kit, I thought, as it was my brand of choice as a kid. But as a family man I never had enough time, money or willpower to fulfill the dream.
Well, Santa came early to my house this year. In what might be described as a late midlife crisis, I bought a set of maple Ludwig drum shells with top-shelf hardware from DW Drums and gleaming Zildjian cymbals. Living alone, except when my sons visit, I have a dedicated drum room now.
Don’t tell my kids, but I spent more on this drum set than on my first two new cars combined. (Granted, those were 1970s autos, and the prices are not adjusted for inflation in this comparison.)
I have a drum equipment consultant, a regular teacher and about a million instructional videos on YouTube at my fingertips. After upgrading the stock drum heads and having a professional set up and tune the drums, the Ludwig drum kit sounds great — much better than I deserve.
I was surprised how much muscle memory remains in my hands from almost a half-century ago. Even before the drum set arrived — pieces came from around the U.S. — I was laying down some pretty ferocious licks on the practice pad.
My legs will be slower to develop. I’ve had more than a half-dozen surgeries on my left leg in recent years, including a bypass procedure a couple of years ago. Still, I think there’s enough bounce left in my limbs to eventually get up to speed on the high-hat cymbals and kick drum.
(READ MORE: Ten year old drummer wins national competition)
People are often amused to find out that my goal is to be able to play along to my favorite funk music tracks. Funk is a syncopated style often associated with 1970s and 1980s R&B music. The first thing I noodled out on my new kit was the intro to “Brick House,” a classic funk tune by The Commodores.
One of the fathers of funk was Chattanooga’s own Clyde Stubblefield, who played with soul singer James Brown in the 1960s and minted a classic break in the song “Funky Drummer,” which was later sampled by countless hip-hop artists.
I don’t play late at night or early in the mornings. Not much drum sound escapes the house, but I don’t want to wake up the neighbors.
In the meantime, these gorgeous blue pearl drums are absolutely waking up my heart.
Family Life is published on Sundays. Contact Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6645.