Finally, I found the mental clarity needed to let go of the gear, the idols and my underlying need to prove myself. The truth was, I’d always had everything I needed in myself and it was only my reluctance to leave the past behind stopping me.
Letting Go (Almost)
With renewed purpose to play and a reverence for the roots of American music, it was finally possible for me to set up a kit and leave half of the double-pedal in the case; free at last. There was still a double-pedal on the practice kit in the house, but it was no longer a distraction.
This state of unfettered focus lasted until around 2016, when I was asked to do some work with bands playing ‘classic rock’ styles. Inevitably, this type of music does require some revisiting of the styles of drummers like Cozy Powell, Ginger Baker and Bill Ward, all known for using two bass drums. So, for the first time in a while, the double-pedal chops got a dust-off.
I must admit, I did feel somewhat alarmed at essentially going backwards in time. But my bass playing mentor (Steve) was gone and without his guiding rudder, I found myself choosing to walk head-on into wherever opportunities appeared. As was the case, the people calling required a small amount of double-bass drum coverage and I could certainly provide what they needed. However, the reintroduction of an old toy was like disturbing scar tissue I couldn’t resist from scratching.
A Final Dichotomy
After all my progress I was almost back in the past again, questioning myself – “single or double down below?” This time though, I could resolve my curiosity very quickly.
There would be odd occasions when I would get out both parts of the pedal and stick it on the kit for a rehearsal or gig. After 20 minutes of playing I’d look down at the slave unit and think to myself, “what the hell did you set that thing up for?”
Even when I used it in the most minimal way, my next immediate thought would be, “what the hell was the point of that?“
How could I have let myself momentarily regress? Self-pity would turn to annoyance and I would seize the next opportunity between songs to remove the intrusive left pedal. If I wanted to remain true to myself, I had to be firm with my decisions and trust my instincts to keep moving forwards. I knew what to take with me and what to leave in my memory box. Those memories are after all, written here.
I firmly believe my brush with sciatica, forcing me to learn to play heel-down very quickly, gifted me the feeling of being grounded to the drum set. Having happened during the period I was partnered with Steve, it all makes sense. There was a new level of certainty in my playing, as if a dormant confidence had awakened to shred and finally dispose of lingering self-doubt.
For the first time in almost four decades, I was ready to confront the difficult questions my insecurities had always made me avoid.
Did I really need to continue concerning myself about not being able to seamlessly replicate the playing style of a particular drumming icon?
No.
Did I need to continue to play a certain brand of vintage drum or cymbal in order to try and replicate the sound of a classic drummer?
No.
Did I really need to continue playing a DW pedal because it was ‘the name’ to have under the feet?
No.
To be liberated enough to escape from these self-imposed nonsensical rule sets is, in effect, a form of rebirth. I use the word ‘rebirth’ a lot, because our journey as musicians is full of different lives, in which we take on new identities to carry us onto the next stage. Owning the confidence to go into a musical situation and silently tell yourself, “This is what I do so don’t ask me to play like any other drummer” is the ultimate self-assurance. Very few musicians get to enjoy this status without going through years of self-doubt and the related anxiety it generates. My own difficult rebirth demanded half a human lifetime for a gestation period.
The Shackles That Bind Us
The first irritations to go were the John Bonham hang-ups. The harsh truth was, I didn’t need a Ludwig 402 and actually preferred the sound of my mid-1970s 400 – my sound! In a bold move I do not regret, my LM402 was sold to someone else looking for ‘that Bonham sound’ he believed he needed. Why do we take the path of replication before we realise the unique value in our own sound?
Anyway, it no longer mattered to me if I couldn’t reliably execute ‘Good Times, Bad Times’ hand-foot triplets heel-down, at 96 BPM with a single pedal. No one is going to call me to be in a Zep tribute band anyway, so who cares? If anyone ever asks me to learn that song then I might risk the one-foot approach, or maybe I’ll play it safe with a double-pedal – who knows and who cares?
There’s nothing anyone can say to make me feel bad about not being a ‘purist’ because I am not, and never will be, a John Bonham clone. I can only ever be me and be the living reason why people want me to support their music. Besides, there are people far better than me on the internet who seemingly make it their life’s work replicating the works of the famous.
Losing the Brand Crutch
During the pandemic lockdown of 2020, I decided to call time on the DW 5000 and its chunky double-chain and sprocket cam. My instinct was telling me to try a strap-drive, so I ended up with a pair of Pearl Eliminator double pedals! Yes, I still had two feet in the camp, but I wasn’t really using the slave-side outside of my home kit.
I absolutely loved the strap-drive on the Pearl Eliminator, along with all the interchangeable cams. They also came with the optional chain-drives, so I had the world of modern pedal evolution literally lying at my feet. However, even the perfection of the strap-drive Eliminator could not address every aspect of my continual progress with letting go of the past.
As the great Billy Ward demonstrates on his Big Time video, if you want to get the best performance from your body when sitting behind a drum set, always take time to learn how to set it up ergonomically. Fortunately, I had worked this out for myself way, way back and have always positioned my bass drum at the same angle as my right foot naturally rests. However, as my single-pedal technique improved, I noticed an increased tendency for me to position my foot more diagonally across the footboard. Whilst this wasn’t a huge problem at the top end of the pedal where there was enough board width to accommodate my foot, its position at the bottom resulted in my heel hanging half-on/half-off the heel-plate.
Being a predominantly ‘heel-down’ player, I began to notice a lack of that fully ‘grounded’ feeling of support under my heel. There wasn’t really any scope for repositioning my bass drum at an even more acute angle, so I decided to throw caution to the wind and buy a Vector Kinetic single pedal.
As a fully-fledged convert to strap-drive on a traditional linear cam, I was extremely reluctant to go back to a chain-drive. However, the Vector pedal has a linear felt-lined cam and is fitted with a single chain (like the early DW 5000 pedals). If I’m honest, the change was barely noticeable, and the Vector’s moveable footboard felt nothing less than revolutionary.
Now is not the time for a review of the Vector pedal, but I did experience a couple of minor grumbles which haven’t resurfaced. I now own two of the single versions which I take to gigs, and a double version which is attached to my practice kit. At the time of writing, I can’t imagine playing another pedal, such is the feel of the Vector’s unique response. Aesthetically, it’s nowhere near as pleasing to the eye as my original DW 5000, but how many times do we look down at our pedals during a gig?
Final Thoughts
So, is that it? Have I come to the end of my double-pedal exorcism? What can you, the reader, take away from my experience?
Invest for Your Own Development – Not a CEO’s Pension Plan
At a time when the musical manufacturing industry continues to reinvent the wheel, I would urge any musician to hesitate before jumping onto the next new piece of kit promising incredible personal improvement. Whether it’s guitars, drums, keyboard tech, amps or recording gear, try to resist the urge to follow buying trends. Manufacturers want us to believe what we already have is no longer relevant and sell us their rehashed version of what we already own.
Having said that, there’s no denying there are still some great innovations and happy accidents to discover. But maybe if we remained more focused on what we already bring to the table with the tools we already own, we wouldn’t develop hang-ups from believing we could be better by continually feeding money to the gear companies. These days, being personally connected to the retail side of the industry and having done my time as a willing consumer, I know what ‘gear fever’ looks like. My advice: try to sweat it out, save your cash, because it will pass.
Resist Replicating!
Don’t stay too long hero-worshipping or trying to replicate the playing of someone else. The world doesn’t need any more Bonham/Gadd/Colaiuta/Weckl/Grebb (etc.) clones uploading videos to whatever social media platform is currently trending. The next generation of drummers need to take on board that unless it’s a tribute band job, they’ll rarely be asked to replicate an established player.
Songwriters don’t go into creative mode thinking, “I really hope the drummer who plays on this track has studied extensively the chops of Vinnie Colaiuta!“
They want supporting musicians to respond to their music with respect and selfless creativity. They don’t need us using their songs as a vehicle for showboating what we shredded during our private practice sessions. If you walk a path of pleasing songwriters with a tasteful and personal response to enhance their ideas, you will over time, develop your own unique style – guaranteed. This took me too many years to realise – so don’t make the same mistake!
We can also apply this to the gear we choose to play. Don’t be pressured into following what looks ‘cool’ because one of your heroes is using it. Never be afraid to go against the grain of current trends. As I write this, everything is still veering towards 4-piece kits with one rack-tom. If your bag is a 5-piece with two rack-toms over the bass drum, or a legless pair of floor-toms suspended from a tom-stand, then don’t worry about what your peers may think. It is crucial you do everything to find your own sound and identity.
Don’t Sacrifice Time from Your Life You Can Never Get Back
Or to put it simply: don’t waste valuable hours of your life practising stuff you will never be asked to play. At a time when I should have been researching and practising to improve my shuffles (because I needed the knowledge for current gigs), I was slaving over the double-pedal chops – and all for what?
I never found myself in a musical scenario where I was required to hammer out 16ᵗʰ notes of double-bass at 180 BPM. But I spent so much time trying. Alas, I can never recover the wasted time spent pitting myself against a metronome and kicking my own arse in the process. When they say, “life’s too short”, they’re not joking.
Finally – There Is No Shame in Being Yourself
Please, please do not beat yourself up about not being able to play something you think you should be able to play. There will always be somebody else younger/faster/cooler/hipper and inevitably, more successful than you. But they are them — and you can only be you.
Your inner clock is unique to you, and no matter how uninteresting or vanilla you believe your playing is, it is your truth. As drummers, we always forget our real currency is given value by the musicians we play with – not by the drummers in the audience. Savour those moments on stage when the band are locked into your time and have wrapped themselves around your pocket. Recognise this as your USP, and do not attempt to devalue it by slavishly attempting to replicate the work of others.
You will cover more ground as a player walking in your own shoes, rather than trying to fit into a pair of someone else’s.
One comment