Drums
are the answer, I find. Philippa took Mathew out for an evening with her
friends, or family, or other mums, or something, so I was able to bash the shit
out of some skins without fear of disturbing either of them. Marvellous. I do
find it very therapeutic – locking myself in the garage and locking myself into
a repetitive drum pattern that becomes the only thing I’m concentrating on for
an hour or so. Everything else just seems to drift away and disappear as I
focus on the next few beats. It’s a meditation of sorts. Just not one that’s
compatible with some other forms of meditation. I can’t imagine a group of Zen Buddhists
seated in a circle would enjoy me bashing out the solo from ‘Kashmir’
RC 10-5-19
No comments:
Post a Comment