7 years ago today, I was working with my longtime friend Mark Greenhalgh, a fellow music producer and lifelong percussionist, on the Fleshwound album. We were trying to hammer out live drum tracks, to replace my originally programmed ones.
It was a huge step forward, but it wasn’t until a few years later that I set up my humble, trusty Yamaha Rydeen kit in the basement of another friend’s house and found the vibe, finally.
It took a few weeks, and dozens of takes (across 15 songs). I had a shitty, borrowed microphone set. Borrowed cymbals. Noisy laptop. I wanted desperately to make it sound and feel consistent. I had to find my chops, adjust and readjust cymbals, break sticks and throw things in frustration… then, remember all the little details and nuances of each song’s performance, to get to that happy place where it finally felt glued together.
In the end, I was able to close my eyes and hit record. Beep-beep-beep-beep. Boom. Shit. Missed it. Try again. Again. Again. Again...
Do your thing. The clocks and calendars don’t give a shit. Everyone has an opinion. Trust yourself. Some things take way longer than you’d expect. Some things require you to grow more into who you always were — and then it just falls in line.
Some things just weren’t meant to be. It doesn’t matter. Don’t linger. Keep on. Make stuff. Break stuff. Remake yourself, over and over again. C’est la vie. C’est la grande illusion. C’est ça!