Backstage with Baldy
Toronto – August 20th
The band generally gets three rooms at each venue on this tour: one production office, one dressing room, and one tuning room.
The tuning room consists of an amp and two guitars, and an electronic drum kit.
On occasions where the venue doesn’t have an ample amount of rooms, we’ll just put the contents of the tuning room in the dressing room.
That’s what happened in Toronto today.
It was about an hour before show time, and Sean was behind the kit laying down a particularly groove-filled beat.
Now I don’t like subscribing to stereotypes, but as a middle aged white guy from Idaho, the one about us not being able to dance seems to be pretty accurate.
Therefore, as I’ve mentioned previously, I prefer to feel my funk on the inside, because my moves are more likely to be seen coming from people who are suffering a severe electrical shock or falling down a flight of stairs. It’s just not pretty, and I know it.
Occasionally however, when the mood strikes just right and a person is in their comfort zone, they surrender their inhibitions, and as old school rap masters Eric B. & Rakim so persuasively stated, “Let The Rhythm Hit ‘Em”.
And so I did.
I leaped in front of Sean’s kit and unleashed an amalgamation of spastic shaking, uncoordinated swiveling, and furious thrusting and gyrating.
Part of me was just expressing myself through the timeless art of dance, but more importantly, I was trying desperately to make Sean uncomfortable.
But he just kept drumming away, not really paying attention to me, which I found unacceptable.
So I doubled down on my efforts.
I jumped up, spun 180 degrees in the air, and landed with my back to Sean, where I began a painfully woeful attempt at twerking.
I’ve only recently become acquainted with the phenomenon of twerking, and like most fads or crazes, once they become a household name and are incorporated into mainstream America by middle class white guys like myself, it’s all over.
(Hey, didn’t that happen to Grunge?)
Anyway, the twerking was beginning to have an effect, because he was at least starting to pay attention, and I could see a look of annoyance come over his face.
Thankfully my partner in crime Mike Inez came across the room to join in.
By the time Mike came over, I’d moved into a series of high kicks, knee raises, and random air punching.
It was beginning to look more like a workout routine than a dance, and once Mike joined in, Sean was too distracted to continue, and my work was done.
Turns out that Sean can drum his way through one moron, but two is his limit.
In conclusion, I think that more than anything, today’s blog has been about goals.
It’s about a young man setting a goal for himself years ago to work hard and become a professional drummer.
It’s also about a bald dude with no rhythm setting out to annoy that professional musician to the point of distraction, and ultimate resignation.