A Rising Starr
His manner was strange,
like a nowhere man.
He wanted me to teach him
how to play the drums.
Please, please me, he pleaded.
See what I mean?
I sat him down before my brand new
Ludwig Oyster Pearl drum set
with shiny Zildjian cymbals.
Put your foot on that Speed King, I said.
Pump the bass drum pedal to keep the beat:
one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four.
That's it, now whack that snare on two and four:
one, TWO, three, FOUR one, TWO, three, FOUR.
You got it! Now eighth notes on the ride cymbal:
one & two & three & four & one & two & three & four &.
Feelin' it? Okay, put it all together:
one & TWO & three & FOUR & one & TWO & three & FOUR &
You doing it, brother, I said.
Gear, he said. Fab, he said, and kept playing
this kick-beat till he owned it.
Practice at least an hour a day, I told him.
He rolled his eyes, but said Ta
which I think meant thanks.
I handed him a pair of drumsticks. Here, I said, take these Ludwig 3As.
Ta he said again in his low Liverpool drawl.
I didn't think he'd go far.
He wore too many rings on his fingers.
When he played, they had to hurt.
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