I’m lucky. I have not one, but two friends that I’m still in regular communication with after all these years.
I’m not sure if everyone’s entitled to two but they should be. Paul McCartney said that on the train in the Beatles movie, “A Hard Days Night” when John asked Paul, “pardon me for asking, but who’s that little old man?” That’s my grandfather, Paul replied. George Harrison answered “that’s not your grandfather, I’ve seen your grandfather.” Paul replied, “well everyone’s entitled to two you know. This is my other one.
It was epic! I jumped up and down, frantic with joy.
This is a composite image. It includes original elements of a Kellog’s Frosted Flakes print
which, in turn ,is based on a 1955 episode of the Gary Moore Show on CBS Television.
Other elements were generated using ChatGPT and Gemini_AI.
I bashed the shit out of that kit, making hellish noises at an ungodly hour. Bang! Boom! Crash! Welcome to Christmas morning. That was the 1960’s and I was a four-year-old Kieth Moon.
The 1970s…
Then more magic occured at the age of thirteen. One afternoon in 1977 I came home from the seventh grade to find that a red sparkle drum set had found its way to my bedroom. The red sparkle drum set, the one I’d been bugging the shit out of my dad for months to buy me from Bronstein’s Music Store on Grand Avenue in San Francisco.
Photo by Gio Bartlett.
Oh! The adventures me and Red Sparkle would have! We won a junior-high-school talent show and eventually went on to play huge indoor concerts in the El Camino high school cafeteria with the famous rock band Sky. Everybody knew that band. Well, everyone in El Camino High School.
Red Sparkle was made by the KD Drum company and had KD badges on the individual drums. Sky covered Paul McCartney, the Beatles, the Cars, and Cheap Trick mainly. No doubt those acts approved of our renditions… or would have if they’d they ever chanced to hear them.
That set rocked the garage on Commercial street to a turntable blaring Lynyrd Skynyrd, Journey, Toto, and Queen. I banged along on Sparkle until Mom told me to knock it off, or a neighbor called to say, “dude, enough is enough!” at 11pm.
When high school ended, in ’81, Red Sparkle had served her time. Like all short-term recreational relationships, it was played out and, by 1986, it was time for a new love.
The 1980s…
Nineteen eighty seven arrived and I went to a small drum shop in San Francisco — Drum World on Geneva Avenue — with three grand in my pocket. I was rich!
But once inside, I was confronted by a hard choice between two awesome Steves: should I go for the Japanese-made Yamaha Recording Series and sound like Steve Gadd; or the Sonor Lite set from Germany so I could sound like Journey’s Steve Smith? It was a tough call as both sets were beautiful and could easily play in any stadium.
Looking back, I wish I’d chosen the yellow Sonor Lites but Steve Gadd had the upper hand that day.
Pearl Masters ‘Liquid Amber’ Drum Kit. Photo by Pearl Drums.
Me and Yamaha were inseparable for many years. We spent many late nights in East Oakland, Berkely, and San Francisco bars featuring live blues and R&B.
One bar — the Wine Lite on East 14th in the Elmhurst district of East Oakland — didn’t even have a sign out front. Locals knew the place by the red-and-blue lights above the door and the jukebox filled with Jimmy McCracklin, Muddy Waters, Marvin Gaye, the Supremes, and the Temptations. That jukebox was a history class in modern music.
Me and Yamaha would eat catfish and soggy fries when our set ended at three a.m., before making the long trek home across the Bay Bridge.
Eventually, Yamaha and I went back to school at the College of San Mateo and, by June of 1989 we earned a music degree together. Now it was time to get serious… time to take over L.A.!
We took off in our Dodge Dakota pickup and pulled up to the California Institute of the Arts, Valencia music department. Our major was jazz drumming studies, of course.
It was time to turn super pro, and we were made for it. It was our destiny. Besides, what else were we going to do with our lives?
We lasted a year before heading back to San Francisco. It wasn’t as easy as we thought and Cal Arts was expensive. It was a great year though, and a year the two of us would never forget. Alas, our short-term recreational relationship came to an end. I needed money and the Yamaha had cash value. But oh, the adventures me and Yam had!
The 1990s…
San Francisco 1997, I’m in a new band now: Automatic Blue. But the Yamaha was gone so there was need for a new short-term relationship. Enter, the Black Battleship, a set pieced together at Sam Adato’s drum shop in the dark and industrial South of Market district of San Francisco.
Photo by Brent Ninaber.
Money was tight. We had some adventures, me and Battleship. She’s called the Battleship because nothing matched except the color. She was a hodge-podge of useful junk pieced together to create a capable instrument that sounded awesome due to my ability to draw life out of her: my drumhead choices and tensioning between the top and bottom heads to create resonance and superior vibration.
Battleship must have been in a band before she knew me because “The Martians” was tattooed on the inside of her bass drum shell.
The 2000s…
It’s now 2004 and it’s time to leave the San Francisco Bay area. Two busted relationships — Jill and Maureen — and I am out of there. I’m Las Vegas bound in my red 1999 Ford Ranger. Will there be another percussive short-term relationship in my future?
What’s this? It’s the Las Vegas Weekly. What’s in the back? Ads for musicians. Let’s check it out. Turns out the music store a few doors down from where I worked had the answer – a beautiful Tama sunburst colored set consisting of kick, snare, rack tom, and two floor toms — the ultimate rock setup mirroring Led Zeppelin and Heart.
Perfect!
I bought it and pieced the remaining hardware and cymbals together — all Tama of course, except for the bass drum pedal and all-Zildjian cymbals. After all, this was Vegas and only the best would do. Another shot at super pro and the big time.
Me and Tama answered a “young players wanted” ad in the weekly. I was young enough. Fuck it, answer the ad. Meeting scheduled at the Palms casino. Bring a tape of my playing. Meet with a guy named Keith.
As a result, me and Tama played in two bands before our short-term relationship with her came to an end.
The first was a band called Southern Stew that covered southern rock hits from Lynyrd Skynyrd, Molly Hatchet, 38 Special, Marshall Tucker, Charlie Daniels and others, note-for-note on the Las Vegas strip. We played at Hogs & Heffers downtown — with the bar on fire and chicks dancing on it, Harley-Davidson dealerships with motors roaring, and the patio at Hooters in Henderson prior to big concerts.
The second was the super pro experience Yamaha and I had gone looking for in L.A. but had never found. Me and Tama, on the other hand, had one of the greatest experiences of our lives. The ad we’d answered had been posted by a bass player named Keith was a part of a well-known, grammy-award-winning band that played stadiums all over the world.
We didn’t know any of that when we interviewed. Keith was working locally in Las Vegas in his own project and backing other artists so me and Tama got the gig. We wound up at the Las Vegas Mandalay Bay House of Blues main stage and slammed the Village People’s music with a fourteen-piece band.
The 2010s–Present and Beyond…
Eventually, as with all the other percussive relationships, the road came to an end for me and Tama. As with all my previous kits a new owner took possession, unaware of our history.
Will there be another drum set short-term recreational? I turn sixty four this year so it will be the last lady I ever have. I no longer play professionally and refuse to share them with anyone but myself.
Photo by Daniel Bernard.
Still, I suspect there will be at least one more: my life’s concert isn’t over and there’s more to be drummed.
About the Author
Matt Coddington is an award-winning commercial locksmith. He currently works and writes in San Diego. He is a former paperboy; a former avid collector of baseball cards, and a former musician and Drum Corps International world champion. He is sixty-three, single, and has no children. His next chapter—whatever it may be—is set to commence soon.
About the Frontispiece
Composite image including: original elements of a
Kellog’s Frosted Flakes print ad based on a 1955
episode of the Gary Moore Show on CBS Television.
Other elements generated using ChatGPT and Gemini AI.
