I was at a cousin’s wedding reception when I saw my first live band perform. I don’t remember how old I was, but I was very young, no more than 7 or 8. I remember it because it marked the beginning of my interest in music, and what would become a lifelong fascination with drums and drumming.
That evening, as my cousin and her new husband swirled across the tiled dance floor, I sat transfixed by the four-piece, red-sparkle drum set that glittered under the stage lights. Watching the drummer’s sticks dance across the heads and the cymbals in a fog of motion hooked me.
I wanted to do that.
Suddenly, I found myself watching drummers on television shows like Perry Como and Lawrence Welk. Then came the Beatles and Ringo, his head rocking from side to side, while laying down the back beat for “Can’t Buy Me Love.”
By the way, Ringo’s oyster black-pearl drum set was bought in 2015 by Jim Irsay, owner of the Indianapolis Colts, for $2.25 million, according to Rolling Stone magazine. Hmmm. Wonder what my first kit would be worth today?
And so it began.
Oddly, my musical education began on the piano, a Gulbransen spinet that belonged to my grandfather. That piano sits in my living room today. My daughter, Sara, learned how to play on it.
But my 12-year-old self wasn’t interested in playing scales on the piano. I wanted to hit something. So, I taught myself how to play drums by beating on a reading pillow to songs by The Monkees, The Association and the Spencer Davis Group.
I dreamed of becoming a rock musician, but went into journalism instead. No regrets.
But as I look back on that day at the reception, I wonder what it was that flipped the switch in my head. Perhaps it was some prominent gene, a speck in my DNA that liked to groove. There’s evidence to support that notion: my grandfather was a church organist and pianist. My father, Robert Warren Lenton, was a gifted singer; a tenor who could soar. I have recordings of him that bring tears to my eyes whenever I hear them.
As a teenager I played in bands with friends, but out of those groups, I am one of only two who still plays. I could never image walking away from an instrument, particularly one I’ve worked so hard to master.
Recently, I started studying guitar. I wanted something I could pick up and take with me. I take lessons from a very patient teacher who doesn’t mind my once-every-three-month schedule. It’s slow going, for sure – I’ve been trying to learn the intro to “California Dreaming” since October – but worth it.
Here’s the thing, I’m 63 now, old by some standards (but not mine), and I figure if I stay at it I’ll probably be decent by the time I’m 70. And if I peak before then, I have other musical challenges waiting.
I have that Gulbransen in the living room, an accordion in the family room, a recorder in my office and a harmonica in my car.
Meanwhile, I have to work on my barre chords.
Contact Garry Lenton: 610-371-5025, glenton@readingeagle.com, or @GarryLenton_RE.
