Yesterday my brother invited me over to play his drum kit while he played bass, then guitar, then vintage tenor saxophone.
Sailor Babo came along, of course.
It was fun. In the past I've felt too self-conscious to even play around my brother. Yay Ladies Rock Camp! Hopefully my brother will invite me back.
Then we went to an instrument store, and I found the perfect drum kit for my 516 square foot dwelling unit.
It would make a big dent in my savings, but I'm considering taking the plunge, perhaps in a couple of weeks.
This song is the second to last song on my new "workout with Yo La Tengo" playlist, one of several playlists I recently made for use on the elliptical machine in the gym.
It happened. In two and a half days, I learned to play enough drums, formed a band with two other newbie musicians, worked out a drum sequence for a song that my bandmates co-created, rehearsed enough that we felt good playing together, and performed it at a real live rock club in Portland on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
Over the course of the weekend, I also learned about basic on-stage sound component set-up, how to make a silkscreen stencil and create a band logo shirt, how to destroy a phone book (as demonstrated by The Crushinator during Saturday morning warm-up), and that I could do karaoke with a singing buddy and not die of embarrassment.
Band formation happened quickly, right after lunch on Friday, with little to go on except brief interactions through a series of icebreaker activities. That was the scariest moment for me. At first I thought I was the leftover drummer with no band, then drifted into a vocalist who hadn't yet found her band, and then we found a fledgling guitarist who was still solo. I think we might have been the three shyest campers in a group of about 35. It took us a few hours of practice (interspersed with instrument classes and workshops) and some intensive coaching by camp instructors, but we made a song together. The vocalist (from Portland) wrote the lyrics, the guitarist (from Minneapolis) worked out the chords, and by Saturday afternoon, we had ourselves a song (and a name: the Three-Day Afghans).
We were one of eight bands that formed, learned to play
something, and made a song at this weekend's camp, and then performed
it at an open-to-the-public all-ages show at Satyricon in
Portland. We really did it!
(photo by djpiebob)
One of the bands included a woman on guitar whose daughter had participated in the girl's camp, her mother
on vocals, the mother of my drum instructor (a former girl camper) on
bass, and another woman having a mid-life crisis on the drums, all
novices except for the grandmother vocalist, who totally rocked in the showcase performance. All the
bands rocked. The songs and a video will eventually be on iTunes, so
stay tuned if you want to hear the song about the mini horse, or the
skinny-jeaned hipster cowboy, or the straight lady who developed a girl crush
on her hot guitar teacher, or the truth about dinosaurs.
Ladies Rock Camp was a tremendous experience--one of the most
positive, supportive, empowering things I've ever experienced. Any
lady out there who wants to rock but is prevented by fear of
performing, skepticism that she couldn't become a musician in three
days, shyness about working in groups, shyness about creating, fear of
making noise, I can't recommend it highly enough. If travel to
Portland isn't feasible, there might be a Ladies Rock Camp closer to
home,
offered through one of the other Girls Rock Camp Alliance
camps. Not only do get you have this great experience, you get to help
make the self-esteem-building girls rock camp affordable for girls.
(Anyone who wants to know more about the girls camp might want to watch
the Girls Rock!
documentary.)
I'm planning to do it again next year, returning to
Portland if the girls rock camp in my town isn't yet offering Ladies
Rock Camp. Vox meet-up/band formation, anyone?
In 48 hours I will be recovering from the first day of Ladies Rock Camp.
The weekend camp kicks off with lunch on Friday. In rock and roll DYI-style, it's pot luck for those who are local. Since I am only driving three hours, I guess I count as local so am bringing something casserole-y with beans and rice and cheese of course.
The first activity is getting divided up into bands, each of which will create a song and perform at an all-ages show on Sunday afternoon. Oh, and by the way, we will be learning to play our respective instruments in the process. I'll be drumming. Twelve years ago I had four drum lessons and a Roland electronic kit (which I sold about seven years ago because I was too afraid the vibrations could be felt by neighboring apartments, and thus did not use), which is barely one step beyond total beginner.
It occurs to me that we might be required to go around the room and cite our influences, so I figured I'd best work out my answer in advance and thus potentially prevent the usually inevitable vocal paralysis.
My first inspiration was Maureen "Moe" Tucker. I'm pretty sure I can already play as well as she did in the early days of the Velvet Underground.
I'm also a Janet Weiss fan. You may know her from Sleater-Kinney, Quasi, the third-to-last album of the Go-Betweens, and I believe now with Stephen Malkmus's Jicks band. Of course there is no way I could ever play as well as half the fingers in one of her hands, but apparently she and I have the same birthday.
My #1 drum hero, though, is Georgia Hubley of Yo La Tengo.
Here she is going to rock school with the boys from the band.
Yo La Tengo is playing Seattle tomorrow night, and hopefully I can be rock and roll enough to stay up late enough to see them again (my third time, or maybe fourth), but then again I have to get up and drive to Portland, Oregon early the next morning. Since I'll have a rental car, my chances of making it to the YTL show are slightly higher than normal, assuming it's possible to park nearby.
Also, here are the Bangles before they had big hair.
If you happen to be in Portland this Sunday and want to witness numerous debuts (including mine as a drummer), the show starts at 3 p.m. at a place called the Satyricon.
