Drum Cave

My new apartment has two walk in closets. The first closet more than adequately houses my worldly possessions, so the other closet begged to be transformed into a kind of isolation room for my drums. After the new Vampire Weekend album lit a fire under my ass–they being, somewhat like me, young, white, bookish, preppy dudes who are intensely interested in the music of another continent–I decided to chase the dream. I drove back to South Bend and borrowed my buddy’s dad’s drums (huge props, by the way, to Mr. R.S. Marsh). In addition to being a fraction of the size and volume of my own drums, they sport the same genuine calfskin heads that were put on them in the late 60′s and record like a dream. I skimmed this page on how to soundproof a room and, being broke, set out to find some cheap or free carpet with which to do it.

I called all the nearby carpet stores, but none had free scraps. At the very moment in which I thought I’d have to scrounge together some money to buy some used carpet from one overzealous salesman, I finally found a wholesaler who said I could rummage through the dumpster outside of their shipping center. So I waited for rush hour traffic to abate, hopped in the car, and drove late through the freezing January night to the said location, which was in an industrial area near the Chicago river.

I found the dumpster to be a good 60 feet long and overflowing with snow-covered carpet. I joyously thought I had discovered the mother lode, and dragged a scary-looking crate with nails sticking out of it to the edge so I could boost myself up and salvage the biggest rolls. In my excitement and haste, I tried too hard to lift a heavy piece of carpet while standing in an awkward position, subsequently tore a muscle near my ribs, and am now painfully reminded of the excursion when I wake up every morning.

When I got home, most of the carpet was filthy. Upon tearing open the last, biggest, muscle-tearing roll, I discovered a red cat’s collar, complete with a little jingle bell, and declining to explore its contents further, rolled it back outside. The next day I attempted to awkwardly carry it down two flights of wooden fire escape to the dumpster in the alley. Now that the roll wasn’t secured tight with tape, all kinds of crazy shit began to fall out: the wooden foot of a manikin, numerous pill and vitamin bottles, feathers, used gift cards. I finally got the thing in the trash, swept the debris off the stairs and went, this time in the daylight, back to the motherlode dumpster.

This time it was hardly full, but there were many clean, thick, easily portable rolls of green carpet sitting at the bottom. I had to slide that same crate up to the edge and jump in, toss the rolls out, then use the remaining rolls within the dumpster to make a makeshift stairway back out. After two hours of clumsily cutting and nailing the scraps to some trim in the closet–manly craftsman I’m not–the room was mostly complete. The drums just barely fit.

To put the cherry on top, my new neighbor ordered and received a thin mattress which proved to be the wrong size. The mattress company sent her a new one and told her to throw the other one away. After observing my labors, hearing my tale of muscle-tearing woe, and remembering that I wished I had a mattress to isolate the roof of the room, she was thoughtful enough to save the old mattress for me. It’s too wide to lay flat across the high shelves in the closet, but when folded makes a tent-like roof, further dampening the sound and isolating the chamber from my upstairs neighbor. It’s my luck that stairways separate me from my neighbors to the right and left. I requested the work schedules of the affected neighbors above and below, and can now drum with abandon while they’re at work. I hope this marks the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.

Laz D

Laz D is a rapper with down syndrome. We were introduced by his musical partner in crime, Jack Gibson. Yesterday I did a shoot for his album cover and also shot his latest album release party.

New drums

I traded my old drums for new drums today. These Camco drums were made in the early 60′s in Elkhart, Indiana, approximately twenty miles from where I grew up. Drum Workshop (DW), the brand that seemingly 80% of professional drummers use today, copied their distinctive circular lugs from Camco when they bought the company out in 1978. Ain’t they a beaut?

Gustav Mahler

I have downloaded Mahler’s ten symphonies as a torrent on thepiratebay.org. Until today, I was only familiar with his death-defying second symphony and his ninth, whose first movement is beautiful beyond my immediate capacity for description. This man is like God! When I listen to his symphonies, I confuse the composer’s personage with that of the crazed conductor, commanding the world around him into being, arranging it in perfect harmony by the sheer will of his stern gaze, flailing arms raised like a bear in attack, as the moon, and planets, surrounded by meteor shower of floating instruments, revolving not around the sun but the bald head of Mahler himself. How can one not, listening to the first movement of his Fifth Symphony? Who, since Picasso, has stalked the Earth with such sheer creative force?