The Bravest Thing I’ve Ever Done

I Became a Drummer at Forty-Two and Learned That I Loved Performing

I learned to accept my anxiety and use it to help me play better

About 1991. I was playing the drum part to this fast and hard piece in a “Battle of the Bands” at Brownies Bar in Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey. The guitars were wailing, and I was locked in the bass line with the bass player. It was one of those rare, for me, times when the groove was perfect and I was floating above it. I looked up when someone gave one of those loud “Pay Attention” whistles, to see a guy across the arena shouting “Hey! Woman!” and giving me a thumbs-up sign. Because I was really busy right then, I smiled and tucked that little gesture away to savor later on. I don’t know who the man was, but that affirmative hand gesture became one of the peak experiences of my life.

I was a 40-something-year-old wife and mother. I sang in a church choir, baked bread, and had been trained as a classical pianist and piano teacher. Until then, I had lived a relatively safe and careful life. And I was the only older woman drummer I knew of at the time.

My younger brother had died a few years earlier, and I had inherited his Eddie Van Halen drum kit. I had always loved watching him practice the drums and would get lost just watching. So, when the opportunity arose, I looked up his former teacher and started lessons.

The teacher was a bit of a stickler for getting out there and playing with a group at the very beginning, so I was forced to do that. I remember the first time I “played out”, an anniversary party: my hands shaking so hard I could barely hold on to the drumsticks. All I did was keep a steady beat as best I could. I got through it and the crowd was very kind and encouraging.

At first, I played with a group of guys with guitars and steel guitar playing really antique country music–Hank Williams Sr?- that didn’t really require a drumbeat. But I practiced with them, then met some other people who played Classic Rock along with more current Country and joined their rehearsal, all the while getting better at faking stuff, playing steady when things got crazy, and even doing some decent fill-in riffs. I played with four different configurations of bands in my ten years of drummer life and learned a tremendous amount from it.

I looked up when someone gave one of those loud “Pay Attention” whistles, to see a guy across the arena shouting “Hey! Woman!” and giving me a thumbs-up sign.

What was useful about learning drums?

I got to improvise; I stopped worrying about doing it perfectly

As a classical pianist, I knew how to read music but never got the hang of improvisation. When playing piano, I got severely anxious when anyone listened to me play, so that I would lose my places completely or make so make many mistakes that I couldn’t continue. As a result of my fear, I abandoned a degree in music only one course shy of graduation–the Senior Recital. I just couldn’t face it.

As a drummer I had one basic job: I had to get really good at managing the beat of the song- good enough to hold the whole band together. I practiced hard to get there. Beyond that I could improvise whenever I could, filling in little things as I felt like it or could manage. No music to read. No pressure not to make mistakes. Hell, I made mistakes all over the place, and so did the other musicians. We winked or grimaced at each other and kept going, hoping no one important noticed. It was very freeing for my perfectionist self. We had fun, tried to do a good job, and oh well if it wasn’t perfect.

I learned to expect my anxiety, deal with it, then perform

Before every performance I would get the shakes, and sit on my throne breathing slowly, tuning out the rest of the room, just trying to manage until it was time to begin. Once we started, I was in, on, whatever! I loved the thrill of riding a song from start to finish, aiming to catch the groove and just sit there smiling. I sweated and swore and even prayed sometimes. But I always performed and did my best. In fact, I realized that I really enjoyed performing. It became a peak experience and remains so even now in my memories.

I came to know myself in these situations. I would always have an attack of “nerves” before the band went on. Once it happened, I could forget about it. It became part of the routine. Shake for five or ten minutes then get into the zone of slow breaths, calming myself, getting seated, relaxed, and everything in place for the start. I would worry if it didn’t happen. But once I started playing, it was ok.

My piano playing and teaching improved

I became confident about keeping the beat and feeling the rhythm in my piano work and my playing improved significantly. I began using my drums to teach rhythm to piano students. It made such a big impact on students’ understanding of and feel for the beat of a song. And they enjoyed playing the big drums. Encouraged to make noise.

Speaking of noise, I also learned about ensemble-playing. I was warned at the beginning by my teacher that nobody liked a drummer that was too loud. I had to focus on listening to the overall sound and fit in without drowning anyone out, ask for feedback about my volume, and be respectful of the others’ moments to shine.

I learned I was braver and tougher than I’d ever imagined I was

I did some things as Jeanie Drummer, that I could never have imagined myself doing before then. Like playing in that motorcycle group hang out in a “Battle of the Bands” with a lot of tough-looking dudes on motorcycles, who were really kind and respectful and even protective of me. Finding my way to engagements, improvising through whatever songs came up as requests, loading, and unloading, and setting up my drum kit myself.

After playing many gigs with several bands, I tired of the bar-wedding- late night-weekend scene. I volunteered to play in the pit orchestra for a local community theatre group and had all kinds of fun for a number of years playing shows like Annie and The Wizard of Oz and Sweeney Todd. The whole thing ended after about ten years when our family moved to Maine and I had nowhere to play for several years. I never got back to it. Yet!

I wouldn’t have missed this experience for the world. As a drummer, I was a different version of my usual staid, respectable, somewhat boring self. I played with a bunch of men- which I enjoyed. I went to bars at night with them, fended off unwanted attention from drunken partiers. Turned down plenty of offers for drugs or booze. Felt cool and sexy and edgy. And even behaved myself and develop a solid reputation as a percussionist.

This is just one example of the benefits of trying something different. You miss out on so much if you let fear run your life. One of my favorite quotations goes like this:

When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap.

Cynthia Heimel

You may enjoy these other stories

Follow me at jeanfeldeisen.com

Join the fun. To get A Seventyish Woman’s Recipe of the Week and my weekly updates about cooking, writing, and other adventures, sign up below.