Smokin' Hot

As a band, I'd have to say we're pretty lucky when it comes to our practice space. It's smallish, but it is in a house (as opposed to a basement, a rundown industrial warehouse or a cave...although a cave would be pretty cool in terms of rock 'n' roll aesthetics, but the accoustics would be terrible), it's in decent shape and we don't have to worry about pissing off the neighbors.

It's a far cry above our previous practice space, which was in fact in the basement of Clinton and my place over on Chandler Street. We literally had to deal with water spurting through cracks in the cement walls during practice once as a heavy downpour kicked up outside. It had us considering the "Drowned Rats" as a band name for a while, and probably wasn't too good for the thousands of dollars worth of equipment we left stored down there either.

But when we play in the practice *room* at Strutt and Parker's place, it gets noticeably warmer in that cramped room--probably in the neighborhood of 10 to 15 degrees warmer than the rest of the house. I like to think it has everything to do with the musical fury we're unleashing in that confined space, but in all reality, six bodies in a 144-square-foot area are going to heat it up, whether they're rocking out or playing Parcheesi.

Of course, as the drummer AND the progeny of a long line of sweaty German dudes, I tend to perspire the most out of everyone. Once we get warmed up, I'm basically at the aerobic equivalent of a jog for the duration of practice, which can last up to three hours. Add to that the climate control issue, and it's no surprise I can whip my shirt against the wall and have it stick after a heavy session behind the set.

Strutt and Parker don't appreciate that though.

I don't complain: it keeps me in shape, and I imagine with the heat and humidity I'm putting off, it's like being in a sauna for everyone else. But I'm a little worried about what's going to happen when summer rolls around.

You see, since we started playing in our practice space, the temperature outdoors has usually ranged between 55 degrees above zero and 40 degrees below zero. Simple heat transfer has kept our sauna from turning into an oven.

But summers in Wisco get hot, as we all know, and while the basement practice space was soggy, grimey, moldy, mildewy, vermin-ridden, crumbly, leaky, creepy and filled with empty boxes of cat litter from several tenants ago, it was always cool. Parker and Strutt don't have air conditioning, to my knowledge, and even if they do, I don't know of any Trane system that can keep up with our kind of fire.

Cracking the windows will certainly be an option, but that makes us all the more audible to the neighbors who, thus far, have not phoned us in for a noise complaint.

So in all likelihood, there will come a Sunday evening when we're practicing in a 95 degree heat wave with the windows closed, stoking the temp in that room to points on the thermometer that would liquify lesser musical acts. It will be a chance to prove our mettle as a band, or end up slumped face down onto our instruments, surrounded by our bandmates in a 12-by-12 room that will serve as our tomb for weeks to come until authorities finally find the corpses.

I'm hoping it doesn't come to that, but it would be a very rock 'n' roll way to die.

Orchestral Exploits

Recently I've had the pleasure of playing with the Beloit-Janesville Symphony Orchestra for its past two concerts. Both of those shows I've played the harp part on their keyboard, a Kurzweil K2500x. The first show was the silent film Wings, where we were playing as the 'soundtrack.' The second concert consisted of Strauss' tone poem Death and Transfiguration op. 24, Lalo's Cello Concerto in D Minor, featuring Jian Wang as cello soloist, and Dvorak's Symphony No. 7 op. 70. I, however, only needed (got?) to play the Strauss - and on Harp II, no less. This meant that the first 320 measures of my music were rests (~20 minutes of the 30 minute piece). Sweet deal.

At rehearsal on Friday night, several people had 'Team Cello' shirts on. How big of a dork do you have to be... If Margaret (the actual harpist) had wanted to make Team Harp hoodies I definitely would've. Still might.

Here we come to the real motivation behind this post. Pretend, if you will, that you're an attractive cellist. Now, let's say a cool keyboard player who needed to shave came up to you and said "Cello!" (Wow. Not as cool in print. Imagine it's like saying hello but with a ch- at the beginning). Is that a good line or what? Vote in the comments.

Now, I can't take credit for the line - my friend Dave Buss first mentioned it to me while talking about a good-looking music student at school. Here's the thing - I HAD A CHANCE - A GIFT-WRAPPED CHANCE - TO USE IT. The lead cellist for the first concert came up to me pre-show with a question about where to put instrument cases, coats, etc. and I didn't come through. She wasn't in the Strauss concert, and now leggy blonde is gone.

Some thoughts on drummer blisters

The old saying goes, "Life is hard for musicians, but for drummers, it's nearly impossible."

I certainly won't dispute it. We've got a tough lot in life. Drummers have more equipment than other members of a band, and it's bulkier, heavier and needs to be replaced more often than other instruments. We're the butt of just about every joke related to band life. We certainly sweat more in the course of a set, and there's little more noticeable than when we screw up.

I certainly won't complain about any of those issues, however, only pause to make note of them. Overall, it's pretty good to be a drummer, and I don't think there's an instrument (or set of them) I would rather play.

But I will complain, vocally, about drummer blisters. As you can see from the attached photo, I braved a particularly vicious one at tonight's practice, and based on prior experience, I can tell you this one won't be done healing before our next practice. I made sure to stop at the corner store and pick up some medical tape on the way home tonight to make so I'll be ready to wrap.

I won't lie: this blog post probably isn't for the squeamish.

The key to avoiding drummer blisters, DBs for short, is just to drum a lot and build up callouses. They form most frequently where the stick lays across the thumb-side of the forefinger, but also the side of the middle finger and the heel of the thumb where it presses the stick against the forefinger. Every time a drummer swings a stick, it rocks back and forth over the skin, softening it up. That tenderizing effect is exacerbated by the impact of the stick on the drum head, the shock of which travels up the stick in into the hands via the very tiny surface area that actually makes contact with the stick.

Once a drummer has built up good callouses, though, a long session of practice will generally just scuff up the surface of the skin, drying it out and making it flaky. DBs become something of a rarity.

When Common Swift first started coalescing a year ago, I found myself coping with some pretty frequent DBs because I hadn't drummed regularly for more than four years. Lately though, they've been few and far between, which is why I was so surprised at the nasty one I suffered tonight.

It may have been because Ian McNamara was at practice tonight to observe the band, shoot some photos of us in action and absorb some inspiration for some potential cover art, so I was playing a little more intensely than I usually do at practice. It could have something to do with the fact that we were in our third take of "Everyday SA," and we were pushing the tempo. It could be that I'm using a new brand of sticks that aren't so prone to shattering and spraying me with shrapnel.

Either way, we were in the middle of the second chorus when the index finger on my right hand got that familiar, gross feeling like it's wrapped in wet paper towel that's starting to fall apart and I knew I was going to have a nasty one to deal with.

Of course, the blisters don't hurt at first, and even after they start to smart, you can't stop the song -- or the set -- to deal with a blister. You just play through the pain and maybe try to reposition the stick in your hand to minimize the rubbing on the raw area. But that throws off your balance, your accuracy and your speed, so sometimes it's best to try and ignore it.

That's what I tried to do at first, but by the third chorus, the blister had popped, and an ear bud-sized chunk of my skin was started to stick to the drum stick, sliding back and forth against the deeper flesh and getting ready to sluff off the side of my hand.

I warned you this wasn't for the squeamish.

We finished the song, and I immediately dazzled my bandmates with the big, gross flap of skin that was hanging off my finger. My drummer callouses run about an inch along the side of my finger, and this blister had gouged about half of that off. We paused for five minutes, and I ran to the bathroom, yanked off the hanging skin and wrapped my finger in an improvised Kleenex and medical tape bandage.

Parker offered me some alcohol to throw on it, and I called him a sadist. I knew I had to disinfect it, but I had a better, slightly less painful method in mind.

You see, the best immediate treatment for a drummer blister is to fill up the sink with hot, soapy water and do the dishes, and I had a nice stack waiting for me at home anyway. I used a jack knife to cut the makeshift bandage off my finger, then put on some music so the neighbors wouldn't hear me cussing at the sting.

Now that's hardship!

Rehearsal - 2.28.09 (actually 3.1.09)

I thought I'd try and give a little bit of a glimpse into the goings-on at a Common Swift rehearsal. Rehearsal seems a bit of a formal term, right? Maybe practice is better, except if I say practice I think we should be running laps and taking grounders - as it turns out, some of us did run laps on Sunday. Practice it is.

So - a listified version of CS practice:

8-10: bottles of New Glarus Brewery Coffee Stout consumed

1: bottle of whiskey between Alissa and Clinton (note: not consumed, just physically sitting between those two)

1: IMDB break (although for the life of me, I can't remember why)

XIV: songs on Parker/Strutt's album they made in February

?: drumsticks Dusty went through (not sure, I think it might have only been 2)

1: drumstick Dusty "inadvertently" threw at me (or was this last week? not sure)

1: Doctor Horrible reference

many: jokes at drummer's expense

4,5,6,7,and 8: beats in our measures

full-length: my sleeves. Sorry, Strutt.


I suppose I should have been taking notes on Sunday so I could have given a fuller version of the list - perhaps the others can fill in/correct my errors...

on a closing, somewhat sadder note -

Personally, it was a pretty painful practice for me. I don't like to complain about things, and I certainly don't want to come across as whiny (or a wimp), but I was playing through an injury on Sunday. You know when there's a little cut between your fingernail and your actual finger, right at the tip? My right index finger had that going on all weekend, and MAN does it suck to play piano/keyboard with that happening. JEEZ.

-Jf