Right, I've literally been inundated with absolutely no requests from people asking how I did on my drum grading exam, but I'm going to tell you anyway. I passed. With distinction. Can you believe that? I can't. Look, that's my certificate there on the photo. Obviously I've covered up my name with a pair of drumsticks, but I can assure you that really is my certificate. If you don't know my name then you'd best just pretend that it really is Vic Firth. The examiner was even very kind in his notes. I'm rather chuffed. I know it's only Grade 1 but it's a big thing for me.
In other news, kind of related to the drum exam, I'm growing a beard. The last time I had a shave was the day of the exam. It needs a lot of work. I find myself trying to push hair out so it goes from the stage of looking like you can't be arsed to shave to having a beard. Trouble is that if I get to the stage where I look like I've got a Noel Edmonds Tidy Beard then it's coming off. I've even got an electric 'grooming kit'. Oh dear, that's just a slippery slope towards moisturising territory. I hope that doesn't happen as I'm a man after all. And only tonight while looking at an early photo of Metallica (which I like to do every now and again) I realise I bear an uncanny resemblance to a 20 year-old Lars Ulrich...minus the head hair. Hmmm.
And in some more news, I saw Darren Ferguson in a motorway service station the other week. Just thought I'd tell you that. Have you ever seen the son of anyone famous?
Anyway, have one of my favourite tracks for drums courtesy of the talented man Dave Grohl. Too talented for his own good. The bastard.
So, had my first drum exam yesterday. Oh dear. Grade 1 and things didn't go according to plan. The day started with a two hour lesson which kicked off at 6am. Now, I don't know about you but I doubt if there's many occasions where drumming is deemed acceptable at such an early hour. I was the first exam of the day so we had to travel to Lincoln for an 8:45 start. Got there early so just managed to sneak in a cheeky bacon bap from a tea bar around the corner from the studio where the exam was due to take place. Surprisingly for an exam phobic like me I felt strangely serene - that should have been the portent.
Went to the studio where I was allowed fifteen minutes warm up time. My drum tutor came with me - we knew he wouldn't be allowed in the actual exam but he wanted to come anyway as I'm the first person he's sent for grading - and told me that I'd best practise my rudiments. Now rudiments are the easy stuff you're supposed to know in your sleep. Not going to get technical but they involve rolls, triplets and paradiddles. So, armed with my 'lucky' drumsticks (a pair of Zildjian Zak Starkey's complete with mod roundels which have virtually worn off, as you can see in the pic which was taken in my very own pad, you lucky bastards. A gift from my drum tutor, even though I have plenty of sticks of my own. It was he who called them my' lucky sticks'. His girlfriend bought them for a pound from a car boot sale) I was called into the examination room. The examiner, a personable Geordie in his forties, put me at ease and asked me which three set pieces of music I'd be playing (there's a guy playing one of them here. It isn't me, but if you're unlucky enough to be a friend of mine on Faceberk then there's a video of me playing all three pieces on there). Now, the set music is supposed to be one of the harder parts of the exam. I sailed through all three barely putting a foot wrong, perhaps two small mistakes.
Then came the rudiments section. Oh dear. I had the choice to play along with a metronome or not. Should have said 'not' but was mindful that more points would be added to my score if I could play along in time with a metronome...which I normally can. All three rudiments he asked me to play were a complete and utter shambles. In fact I'd even go as far as to say it was fucking awful. Shit!
Next part of the exam was recalling a groove, recalling rolls and sight reading and interpretation, and questions on music notation and general music questions, all of which I sailed through. Again, I got the more difficult stuff right. Oh well, fifteen minutes and the exam was over - the examiner said "You've done very well. You'll get your results in two to three weeks." Yeah, right on the 'you've done very well bit', I bet he says that to all the others going for Drum Grade 1, which is usually eleven year-old boys, not midlife crisis boy here.
Went back to get tutor, who could hear every thing despite it supposedly being soundproofed, where he called me a wanker for the rudiments section. Yes, what a wanker. Still, at least we could laugh about it - on the way back we were going over what the examiner might have been saying to the guy who owned the studio: "Did you hear old baldie's rudiments? What a prick, they get a bit of cash in their pockets buy a kit and think they're Dave Grohl. A-ha-ha. A-ha-ha." Yes, A-ha-ha indeed. At least I can drum along to AC/DC's Back in Black, hardly Rush's YYZ but hey.
Phil Collins then. Where do you stand on him? He makes it very difficult to love him sometimes. As a prog rock aficionado, with an interest in drummers, I should be unremitting in my praise for him. He is, correctly, regarded as one of the all time great drummers (although lesson one, when you have drum lessons, is not to hold the sticks as he is in that photo. One mishit and you'll break your index fingers). The problem he has is that instead of just sticking to the drumming, and singing, with Genesis, he has to do all the other stuff. The stuff that gets people's backs up.
There was a chink of light in his recovery in public perceptions of him last month when he told Mojo magazine that he realised in the 80s and early 90s he could understand why he was viewed as an annoying little turd, and, looking back, he even thought he was himself. How can anyone look back at the cover of No Jacket Required and think it was a good idea - looking like a baked bean with a face?
Why then does he have to undo all that good work by releasing an album of Motown and soul covers? I've heard tow tracks from it, Martha & The Vandellas' (Love Is Like A) Heatwave and Stevie Wonder's Uptight (Everything's Alright). I'm of the opinion that unless you're going to bring something new to a cover, then DON'T DO IT. Both of those records are pretty damn perfect as they are, why does he mess with them and put his voice all over them? Phil, Phil, Phil, is there any way back for you? Just as you were getting everyone else on side.
He can't play the drums any more so he might as well retire. Or go back to Genesis and just sing. But no more covers albums, pur-lease.
Sorry about the break, but I have got a life you know, one where I do a proper job instead of staring into a computer all day.
Anyway, Radio 2. I normally hate those wankers who spraff off about their favourite radio station like they own it - I think I've blogged before about Radio 4 listeners - but what's going off at Radio 2? As it's one of the few channels I can get on my radio at work I tend to listen for most of the day. For a start they put Graham Norton on to 'dep' for Chris Evans. He made a balls up of it, not radio fodder at all. Then they go and announce him as the replacement for Jonathan Ross. Who decided that? A deaf person? And what is this show going to consist of? I think I know: him fawning and giggling all over crusty old actresses from the bloody 1970s no bastard's heard of for years, if at all. Gemma Jones, anyone? No, me neither.
Theses tossers at Radio 2 had already incurred my wrath for cutting Radcliffe and Maconie's ace show from four nights to three - then replaced them on night four with Jo Whiley. I realise La Whiley's too old for Radio 1 now (even though Westwood's well into his 50s), but why knock down a perfectly good show so that she can come on and introduce Paul Weller at the BBC theatre for the umpteenth time? (I don't like Weller either, more of him in a future post)
Then over the past week we've had a brace of announcements. For a kick off that walking car crash that is Richard Madeley has announced that he's in talks with Radio 2 'bosses'. I'm hoping he'll be on one of those Sunday morning shows where he reviews the Sunday newspapers, which'll be okay by me because there's nothing more inclined to get me to turn off the radio than listening to some lazy DJ going through newspapers (unless it's Sarah Kennedy which is always fun-for-all-the-wrong-reasons. Especially as last week she read out an article on 'funny' place names and mentioned a place in America called Spunky Puddle which flew straight over her head. Funny how she didn't mention Shitterton though. Or Racistdrunktelegraphreader-on-the-Wold).
And this week we've had to suffer the indignity of Chris Tarrant doing Steve Wright's show. Jesus, I never thought I'd say this but come back Wright, all is forgiven. The fork-throwing funster's interview with Simple Minds' Jim Kerr on an ISDN line was cringeworthy. Get off Tarrant, you're shit. Yeah, you heard, SHIT!
Enough of that, unlike the rest of the UK population between the ages of 35 and 45, I didn't watch that Boy George thing because I hate both Culture Club and so-called New Romantics. If I never hear Karma Chameleon, that Hurt Me thing or that shocking War song again it'll be too soon. I tire of the rose-tinted spectacles everyone of my generation sees the 1980s through. Mind you, I reckon the three greatest albums of the decade were Metallica's Master of Puppets, Slayer's Reign in Blood and Talk Talk's Spirit of Eden. Hardly Pelican West or Deep Sea Skiving, are they? And not a Roland synthesizer in sight.
The drums then. Cor, I had a great time last week. We got into drum fills. I think I'm going to be of the drumming school that twats it as hard as they can because they like to make a noise, a bit like Dave Grohl, not a bespectacled 'thinker' like Bill Bruford. Talking of thoughtful drummers, there was a great one on Young Musician of the Year this week. She played a thing by Frank Zappa, which, as you can imagine, was a little avant garde. She showed amazing restraint, I just like to smack the drums and cymbals. My tutor's asked me to come up with a drum solo ready for next week. Horror of horrors, a drum solo! Not a horror for the bastard playing it though. Tee, and indeed, hee.
I leave you with one of my favourite tracks from my new favourite band. They are *shhh, whisper it * nu-prog. Run for your lives! The drumming on the whole album is immense though, not that anyone reading this will actually play that video of course, but hey-ho, I like it, it's your loss etc...
I watched that documentary about Edward VII that was on recently earlier tonight. I'm nowhere near a monarchist but I do feel that if we have to have a monarch they should all be like old Eddie.
Let's start with his mother. I love the fact that she had a face like an old boot and was about three feet tall but still had a voracious sexual appetite and made damn sure she married a bloke with an enormous Johnson.
Moving onto Eddie, he behaved exactly like I believe the first in line to the throne should behave - he spent as much time as possible in Parisian knocking shops sitting in bathfuls of champagne while entertaining at least one French tart. He also used to go to these country house weekends where it all used to descend into mass orgies that would have made Caligula blush. His earlier life is peppered with tales of comely young actresses and music hall stars being snuck into university parlours and army mess rooms.
Of course, when he came to the throne everyone thought he'd be an unmitigated disaster - especially as his mother didn't trust him to take any of her responsibilities in her old age so he was completely clueless - guess what? He was a rip-roaring success, with a common touch! Hurrah for Edward VII!
I reckon they're still up to those tricks now, I mean even someone as lowly as Prince Edward has had a go on Ulrika Jonsson (mind you, who hasn't? By my reckoning, at the rate she gets through blokes, my turn's due in September 2018). And Prince Charles was knocking off that Kanga woman and Camilla at the same time. He did make sure they'd both produced sons by their husbands first though. He has some standards, clearly...
Thing is, if I found myself in the same position I'd be exactly the same - it'd be Party Central, oh yes. Take people like Keith Moon or John Bonham, is it any wonder they acted the way they did with all that put in their path? If it were me I'd be driving Rolls Royces into swimming pools while off my tits on some kind of stimulant, or taking blow jobs just prior to stepping into a top fuel dragster. Looks like I'd better get my head down with the drums then...
Hey, remember that film Escape to Victory? Yeah, terrible, isn't it? Well they're only going to remake it. The ringleader? One Mr Vinnie Jones. Oh dear. Why remake something that bad? The original starred footballing greats like Pele, Bobby Moore and, er, John Wark. Who does Mr Jones want to put in the Bobby Moore role? Yes, that's right, David Beckham aka The World's Most Overrated Footballer. Three cheers for Becks! Not. He'd love that, Beckham, wouldn't he? He can really mix it up with his mates in La-La Land if he's made a fil-m. Perhaps his big buddy Tom Cruise could give him some acting tips. Or then again, maybe not.
Another irritation this week:
The new Jacob's Creek ad. The very idea of dinner parties fills me with dread at the best of time, but this ad is set at a dinner party with a bunch of wise-cracking Australians. In my head I shoot the fucking lot with an AK47.
Those pricks who sat behind me at Forest last night. For their information that 'little Scottish twat' is the same 'little Scottish twat' who got our team to third in the table. Oh, and to the woman who shouted out "I'm missing Holby City for this!", why didn't you stay at home then? Although someone's retort of "Who are they playing?!" was inspired. Sometimes the things people shout out are hilarious (there's nothing more life-affirming than hearing a nine year-old boy, in full view of his parents ,shout "The ref-er-ree's a wanker!"), not that crew, they were just full of bullshit from the first whistle. Even when we were coasting to a win. What makes it worse is that they were clearly season ticket holders. Groo!
Non-irritations this week:
Alison Steadman and David Troughton in Alan Bennett's Enjoy at the Theatre Royal in Nottingham. Good to see quality actors actually at work. And who'd have thought Bennett would have put blow job gags in one of his plays? Steadman looked absolutely knackered during the curtain calls though.
Alice in Wonderland. I got caught up in the whole 3D gimmick with this. The 3D doesn't actually make that much difference apart from a few spears being thrust towards the screen, but thoroughly enjoyable nevertheless. I reckon it's only the second Tim Burton film I've seen too.
Drums. My man got me to do some hard stuff this week. I need to practise, so it's good I've bought my own drum kit, int'it?
Forest manager Billy Davies's match programme notes; I'd love to hear them read aloud by a five year-old.
Anyway, if you don't like this then you don't like music:
The drums then. Well it all went rather swimmingly, especially as I was having my doubts approaching the rehearsal studio where the lesson took place; it was at some industrial units at a farm just out of town. Very dark and very lonely during the evening.
I introduced myself to the teacher and after we exchanged pleasantries he sat me behind the drums straight away and we were in. I don't like blowing smoke up my own trumpet but he said that he couldn't believe that I'd never played the drums before as I was picking it up straight away and had bags of 'natural rhythm', oo-er. Or do you think that was a ploy to give me confidence and go back? After twenty minutes I was playing a basic rock drum pattern which he said can be heard, most famously, on AC/DC's Back in Black. Which is handy as that's the ringtone on my mobile. He then stood there and said "We'll have you playing Rush fills in no time." the word 'fills' means nothing to me, it must be something technical, but I smiled to make out I knew what he was on about. In fact, we spent half the lesson talking about which bands we liked in common.
The upshot is that he says I need to practise, practise, practise. So to that end I'm in the process of buying an electronic drum kit. I'd love an acoustic drum kit but space is at a premium and there are other people to consider. If I get good at it I'll have an acoustic kit though. So my teacher is coming with me tomorrow afternoon to demo a drum kit I've seen and tell me if it's any good or not. I'll bugger off before I turn into a drum bore. Next lesson on Monday. Can't wait.
Would you say I've got something wrong with me? I ask this because over the course of the last couple of weeks, three different people have said I've 'got problems'. All this stems from me constantly spraffing off about people on the telly/radio/in the public eye generally. First up my gaffer insists on listening to Chris Moyles in his office, every time I go in there he says I moan about the guests he has on. He claims I 'have a problem'. Secondly, I was at Forest last weekend and moaned to my mate about Gary Lineker appearing in the match programme promoting the Nottingham Sport Relief Mile. I think my words to him were "Why is this jug-eared Leicester c**t in my Forest programme?" to which he, quite rightly I suppose, replied "Jesus, it's for charity, calm down." Thirdly I spent some time at my sister's house at the weekend when that Redknapp Thomas Cook ad came on the telly. That really got me riled up, to which she said "Are you all right? It's not worth getting stroppy about." Again, I guess she's right. I think I can make a list of the people I've moaned about either on the internet or to other people in my day-to-day life over the past couple of weeks:
Larry Lamb
George Lamb
Anvil
Judas Priest
Burke Shelley
The entire cast of Married Single Other
Graham Norton
Jonathan Ross
Alan Carr
Fearne Rotten
John Terry
Frank Lampard
Robbie Savage
Nigel Clough
Wogan
Mark Owen
Sue Perkins
Kerry Katona
Steve Claridge
Martin Samuel
Patrick Barclay
Lady GaGa
Florence off of Florence and The Machine
Louise and Jamie Redknapp
David Beckham
Cheryl Cole
Simon Cowell
Amanda Holden
Totimoshi
Tom O'Connor
Mike Dilger
Jay Rayner
James Martin
That other prick off of Saturday Kitchen
Lesley Joseph
Lee Westwood
Marcus Brigstocke
And they're just the ones I can remember. Perhaps I ought to stop wasting my time thinking about people I don't like and start concentrating on the people I do like. The people I do like are the sort of people who like Mastercrafts. I love Mastercrafts, have you seen it? It's not a very rock 'n' roll TV show I'm afraid, but it does feature Monty Don. A few years ago Monty Don might have appeared in that list above. That was until I saw him in a series where he let the local smackheads come and work on his smallholding, on the condition that they didn't bring any of The H with them. My opinion of him immediately changed from 'huh, another TV gardener' to 'hmm, what a patient and tolerant gentleman.' Anyway, Mastercrafts is a programme where three people each get the chance to try out different crafts each week, like carpentry, stonemasoning (?) or farriering (?). That's ordinary people, not so-called celebrities. And there's no grand prize, the prize is that you get your work exhibited somewhere, or you get six months work experience. This week's was particularly good on weaving. A bit of a dry subject, eh? But made a bit less dry by the fact that I totally fell in love with one of the ladies doing it, the improbably-named Holly Berry. She reminded me of a girl I used to go out with: made her own clothes in the way that art students do, always looked like she'd just got out of bed, a bit whey-faced, very good with her hands (she, me ex, knitted Van Gogh's Sunflowers for an end of year exhibition at college, it was very good), likes Tracey Chapman etc. Mastercrafts is a bit like a long soak in the bath - not much happens but it's extremely satisfying. It's nice people doing nice things.
And, in the spirit of Mastercrafts, I'm trying something new tonight when I go for my first drumming lesson. Some have already scoffed at the idea of drum lessons. Let them scoff is all I can say. I don't have much in life to look forward to or get excited about at the moment, so I thought I'd try something new to get enthusiastic about, and I'm very enthusiastic about this. What's wrong with self-improvement and picking up a new skill? I'll report back later in the week after I've find out if I'm going to be the next Buddy Rich or the next Meg White.
