Jun 25
I am the drummer in the band.
We make music together, play hand in hand. But I'm not involved in where anything stands. How anything goes, how music flows, I have no say in when we're playing shows. The lead singer's the one who is making the call, picking the venues, directing us all. The bassist and I, we just have to kowtow, give up creative control and learn to let go. To fight the leader is to enact a coup, and I don't know about you but that's not what drummers do, we sit idly by, twirling our sticks, waiting for the singer to try another old trick.
A band is a love triangle, it's not a democracy, it always gets mangled. And strangled to death is what you could grow, if you hadn't let one person run the whole show. The lead singer is boisterous, loud and demanding, only happy if they're the last one standing, on a stage full of lights, being called the star, while the bassist and I wait out in the car. That's what you are, you're the lead vocals, penning the songs and fleecing the locals of hard earned money from an actual job, while you turn them into a riotous mob. Demanding attention, perfection and worship, only pleased if you're the only one involved in this courtship, and the bassist and I, we wear the costumes. She plays sour notes that only speaks volumes.
And I pound on my drums to get out my aggression, to relieve the frustration borne of your obsession, to try to forget all the pain that you've caused, the band's barely holding, the music has flaws. We could go solo, start a new band, but because you're the leader you're who's in demand, and the bassist is kind, she won't kick you out, even as it all spirals down into self doubt. The studio sessions are angry and hostile, cause you sing as though your words are like gospel. The audience are sheep, you preach to the choir! You've set the whole creative endeavor on fire! You might have talent, that much may be true, but what good are your skills without us backing you? You're too controlling, make too many demands, and if not for us nobody else would be in your band.
So go on, sing out. We'll play the song. While you strum guitars and string us along. And she'll play the bass, she'll pluck away, always give in and do what you say, but I'll beat the drums. The cymbals, the high hats, the snare and the toms. I'll keep the rhythm, and I'll play along, but just know that we both want to sing a new song. A song where our voices can finally be heard. Where they aren't obscured beneath your every word. Your lyrics are lies, and completely one sided, you've taken control and leave us divided. But what I can do? I can't make demands.
After all I'm just the drummer in the band.
We make music together, play hand in hand. But I'm not involved in where anything stands. How anything goes, how music flows, I have no say in when we're playing shows. The lead singer's the one who is making the call, picking the venues, directing us all. The bassist and I, we just have to kowtow, give up creative control and learn to let go. To fight the leader is to enact a coup, and I don't know about you but that's not what drummers do, we sit idly by, twirling our sticks, waiting for the singer to try another old trick.
A band is a love triangle, it's not a democracy, it always gets mangled. And strangled to death is what you could grow, if you hadn't let one person run the whole show. The lead singer is boisterous, loud and demanding, only happy if they're the last one standing, on a stage full of lights, being called the star, while the bassist and I wait out in the car. That's what you are, you're the lead vocals, penning the songs and fleecing the locals of hard earned money from an actual job, while you turn them into a riotous mob. Demanding attention, perfection and worship, only pleased if you're the only one involved in this courtship, and the bassist and I, we wear the costumes. She plays sour notes that only speaks volumes.
And I pound on my drums to get out my aggression, to relieve the frustration borne of your obsession, to try to forget all the pain that you've caused, the band's barely holding, the music has flaws. We could go solo, start a new band, but because you're the leader you're who's in demand, and the bassist is kind, she won't kick you out, even as it all spirals down into self doubt. The studio sessions are angry and hostile, cause you sing as though your words are like gospel. The audience are sheep, you preach to the choir! You've set the whole creative endeavor on fire! You might have talent, that much may be true, but what good are your skills without us backing you? You're too controlling, make too many demands, and if not for us nobody else would be in your band.
So go on, sing out. We'll play the song. While you strum guitars and string us along. And she'll play the bass, she'll pluck away, always give in and do what you say, but I'll beat the drums. The cymbals, the high hats, the snare and the toms. I'll keep the rhythm, and I'll play along, but just know that we both want to sing a new song. A song where our voices can finally be heard. Where they aren't obscured beneath your every word. Your lyrics are lies, and completely one sided, you've taken control and leave us divided. But what I can do? I can't make demands.
After all I'm just the drummer in the band.
