A truly enjoyable heist short with inanimate objects, the booty being the most valuable thing in their world — and the best thing for any child, too, apparently.
A few years ago, a drum student of mine asked me what one should do to become a great rock drummer.
a week ago, I was thinking once again about that ambitious, yet ficticious student that I just made up a few minutes ago and it made me wax fancifully and fantasize about a magical school for rock drummers.
In the first term, the students would be required to learn all of Ringo’s drumming from the recordings up to Help or so. In the second term, Revolver to Abbey Road. And both semesters, for convocation there’s Charley Watts.
For the next term there’s keith moon, and depending on the talent of the student , they might be able to start the following term with Mitch Mitchell and Ginger Baker early.
The final term is John Bonham.
It looks like I’ve busted yet another rib, this time the one mirror-image to the other one. At rehearsal, I coughed between singing and felt a pop like last time. Fortunately this one doesn’t hurt nearly as bad, just bad enough. And I still have my mummy stuff, so with that and some ibuprofen I should be fine. Still, like me, this is getting old.
Last night’s show at Rosi’s to a sold-out over-capacity crowd
of about 200 of almost 300 ravenous Cash fans.
How’d the gig go on Saturday, all my friends are asking me. They are asking because they weren’t there despite being invited. Which says exactly how it was: half-empty. Not depressingly empty, but certainly not full enough so that one says, “hooray, what a turnout.”
I just gnoticed that my bread tutorial has reached 100,000 viewers. Unfortunately, because I used some incidental music to which I don’t have rights, the video is no longer viewable outside the US.