Who do you play for?

By Tim Bowes

The dreaded question. Ever since I turned pro in 2001, my greatest pride has come from telling people asking what I do for a living, that I'm a professional drummer. In the early days I'd tell them full chested, bursting with pride, bathing in the reaction that I would get; 'wow really? That's so cool!'. I was so proud of achieving my childhood dream; not being a famous musician, just simply to be able to say that I'm a pro. That playing drums is how I earn my living.

I clearly remember asking my drum teacher at high school while in year 8, whether he was a professional drummer. He looked at me quizzically for a moment and then replied 'yeah, well, semi-pro'. I remember being slightly confused and then a bit deflated. Even by then I knew for sure that being a pro drummer was all I wanted to do. I desperately wanted someone to demonstrate to me that it was possible and give me the reassurance and guidance on how I could achieve it. I idolised all of my drum teachers, Mike Tustin, Bob Wyer, Chris Baron, Tony Ayers among others and became obsessed with this magical set of instruments called a Drum Kit that gave me such a buzz at age 11.

It was at our local church hall where my Dad had arranged for me to have a trial lesson with Steve Cordon, the guy who played the drums on Sunday mornings. My Dad must have noticed I was constantly looking at the drummer and tapping along every Sunday and thought I might like to try it. Steve told us to bring along a cassette of some music I liked and he would try and teach me the beat to one of the songs. We brought along my sister's album '...But Seriously' by Phil Collins and chose 'Something happened on the way to heaven' from it, probably due to my Dad thinking it was a religious song. What turned into a huge turning point in my life was standing behind Steve on the kit demonstrating the relentless 8th groove along to the song blasting away on the church's echoey sound system. I'd never experienced anything like it. I couldn't stop smiling. Smiling so much I had to cover my face in embarrassment. This was literally the greatest thing I'd ever seen, but more importantly, felt. I was shaking with adrenaline, a visceral reaction that couldn't be described or put into context in my mind at the time, all I knew was this was all I wanted to do from now on.

It took me a few weeks to master that basic groove, but it's all I cared about for those weeks. I would get nervous getting ready to go to my drum lesson. Looking back now I was a naturally anxious kid, but this was more about excitement more than anything else, and once I got that basic slamming groove down, which was tricky as it certainly wasn't a slow song, I felt that I'd finally found something I was good at. This was the esteem boost I needed. I walked around school the next day thinking, wow you don't even know I'm a really good drummer... It had become my identity.

The drums were perfect for me as a shy kid because I could play music without having to be at the front of the stage like the other band members, not get looked at as much but still take part. This shyness convinced me that being famous wasn't for me, all I wanted was to play the drums and play music. As soon as I found out that my first proper teacher, the great, late Mike Tustin was a professional drummer, I quizzed him about his bands, gigs, working on ships, the BBC and all the different genres and artists he'd worked with. His constant pipe smoking, colourful language, endless cats and vintage Jazz kits were another world to me and I loved every second. Being around him, his quick wit, kindness, generosity, passion and charisma was intoxicating. I wanted to be just like him, it was decided.

'Oh wow really? That's so cool!' is the standard reaction you get after telling people you're a professional drummer, I just wasn't prepared for the next inevitable question;

'Who do you play for?'

They wanted names. They wanted names they knew. It was clear this sudden rush of excitement would soon be extinguished when I told them the name of my own original band, function band or unknown solo artist I was playing drums for. I was always proud of who I was playing for and the music we were creating at the time but it clearly wasn't enough for the girl in the pub who I was trying to impress or the parent of a student who wanted to tell their friends about me.

My childhood dream of simply being a pro drummer seemed to be enough for me but not the rest of the world. I quickly grew tired of the disappointed reactions and made it my new obsession to play drums for ANYONE famous. As musician friends of mine, one-by-one got gigs with big artists, my pride and self esteem in being a pro drummer ebbed away to nothing. Everything depended on getting that big gig, nothing else mattered.

I knew living in Coventry was not going to help me and moving to London was the only way I could get the chance to get noticed, but this was just not possible due to money and family ties. I also had to make a living, so I took every teaching and paid gig I could get, which tied up all of my time. I was teaching in schools in the day and at teaching privately at night until 9pm every night. I would also run my own drum school at weekends as well as gigging as much as I could, playing functions, festivals, tribute shows and original gigs to get money and just to try and be a professional drummer.

The pressure of getting a big gig got too much and would dream of being onstage with Olly Murs at the O2, just so I could mention a famous name to people when they asked, even though I wasn't particularly a fan of his. Taking nothing away from Olly, it's just that I had lost my original reason for being a drummer - that visceral feeling and love of music, only to be taken over by an unrelenting desire to show off and name drop.

This clearly wasn't healthy and over time the realisation of leaving my current bands, lifestyle, friends and family to go and sofa surf in London for no other reason than to land a gig with a pop artist that I don't particularly like was starting to become ludicrous.

I had to go back to the beginning and understand that being a professional drummer was always the goal and was enough.

There are hundreds of thousands of pro musicians all over the world who play and teach every week who love making their living going out and performing at different events and venues, playing amazing music. I also know a lot of friends who also think how I used to, not being satisfied with their lot and always looking for that next big thing, but I wanted amuso to exist to let musicians and tutors know that just being a pro musician and tutor is amazing and to enjoy the fact that you do this for a living!

After being a pro drummer for 22 years, I have played all over the world with many different artists, some unknown, some known, but most importantly, played music for a living. This is what being a muso is all about. Enjoy every second.