At 15 I was working as an assistant music copyist on a fairly high-profile Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) country music television program. At the time I was also working as the house drummer at the studio owned by the music director of the show. I’m not going to mention the name of the star of the program since he’s still with us. I’ll call him ‘The Star’ (he’d like that anyway).
The music director told me that The Star was looking for a drummer to do a tour of the East Coast and suggested that I audition. I showed up at the CBC rehearsal studios the day of the auditions and took my place waiting in the hall with all the other drummers. Most of the other drummers waiting to audition were at least 10 years older. I was 15, and knew very little about country music, and figured I didn’t have a chance at getting the gig.
We all sat there in the hall listening to the other drummers go in and play. Most of them came back out after one tune.
Finally, it was my turn. I was rather dismayed to find that there were no charts. The idea was that we’d just jump in and play along with the band (a couple of guitars, upright bass, accordion, fiddle and steel guitar).
We did one tune, then another, and finally after the third tune The Star told one of his people to go out in the hall and tell the other drummers they could leave. Somehow, I got the gig.
The Star then suggested that since the touring band was all there we might as well run the whole show. This would turn out to be our only rehearsal.
Things went well until we played an instrumental number I didn’t know that just seemed to end in the middle of nowhere. I of course kept on playing. I asked that we do it again and still couldn’t figure it out. I asked if someone could write it out for me, but that idea just got laughed at. We tried it again and when I messed it up The Star said, “Don’t worry we’ll run this one again at the first sound check”. It should also be mentioned that this was the very first time The Star had included a drummer in his touring band.
A few days before our first concert, in St. John, New Brunswick, I was picked up by the tour bus, and my drums and suitcase were loaded in the back. I was 15 years old and going on the road for the first time. No chaperone. No one responsible for me. It was trial by fire.
I wasn’t prepared for how popular The Star was, and the first place we played was a hockey arena which I was told was sold-out. At the sound check I reminded everyone that I needed to learn the ending to that one instrumental number. They just laughed and said, “you’ll get it”.
Well, I didn’t. We played that number and I flew right past the ending, very obviously messing up. The Star turned and looked at me and then said to the audience, “This is our new drummer Brian, he’s just 15 years old and I think we should give him another shot at the ending of that tune. What do you think?”. The audience roared their approval. So, we started from the last chorus.
By now I was a bundle of nerves and had no chance at figuring out the ending. I not only messed it up a second time but I dropped a drumstick in the process. That stick bounced off my bass drum and rolled downstage coming to a stop right by The Stars cowboy boot. He bent down, picked it up and said to the audience, “What do you think? Should we give the kid one more chance?”. Their response was even more enthusiastic this time.
Again, we started at the last chorus. Now, to this day I don’t know what possessed me, but when we got to the ending I launched into the loudest drum solo I could manage. I probably only played for about 15 seconds but it seemed like a lot longer at the time.
The audience went nuts. When I looked at the other band members none of them would even make eye contact with me. The Star just moved on to the next tune.
The show finished and we packed up our gear and loaded it on the tour bus (no road crew in those days). I was rooming with the steel guitar player and when we got back to our room he said, “What the hell were you thinking? He does not like to be upstaged, ever. Just then there was a knock on the door. It was the road manager telling me that The Star wanted to see me in his room.
When I arrived at his room he told me to sit down. The first thing he said was, “What the hell were you thinking?”. I explained that I just didn’t know what to do since I had no idea how the ending of that tune went, and I thought he was going to just keep making me play it over and over. He was angry. He told me that he was considering putting me on a bus back to Toronto the next morning.
After a few more minutes of tearing into me he said, “OK, here’s what’s going to happen. Tomorrow night we’re playing in Halifax. I want you to do exactly what you did tonight. Mess up the ending. I’ll give you a second shot at it. Mess it up again and do the thing where you drop the drumstick and it rolls to me. Then the third time around I want you to do the drum solo, only this time it should be for about three minutes. Oh…and don’t ever pull that kind of thing with me again.” I promised I wouldn’t and hurried out of his room.
When I got back to my room the steel guitar player was waiting for me. He asked, “What happened? Did you get fired?”. I said, “No. I got a feature solo every night”.
And from then on, including the tour I did with The Star the next summer across Western Canada, I had a big solo every night.
I think I was very lucky. Oh, and I never did figure out how to properly play the ending to that tune.