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!
