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Stray the beat
If there is anything that I miss, it is playing the drums. Feeling that slender stick in each hand, the satisfying, melodic hum of the heads. The pop of my wrist, the snap of my ankles. Looking for the hidden rhythm, not the apparent one, and executing it well. The growing wash of a clean cymbal, the woody click of a rimshot. Breaking out of playing habits and forming new ones. The rattle of a snare chain being ratcheted into place. Pulling apart the kit and spending an afternoon watching movies and polishing drum shells and tuning heads. Perfect placement of a kick to punctuate a dead-silent bridge. The hiss of well-formed hats, played gently. The splinterstorm of suddenly finding yourself segueing into a fast, punishing song without time to drop the hot sticks and grab the 2Bs. More than anything? Surprising myself on a regular basis. I miss knowing that I can do that.
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