The guitarist started talking about Maureen Tucker right after I tried to quit the band for a second time. I was standing by the door, microphone stand in hand, and I had just told my new band mates that if they wanted to find a different drummer, that was okay by me. I’d realized after our second practice that my enthusiasm for playing the drums did not necessarily translate into an ability to play a steady beat. With a drum repertoire limited to two or three rhythms–if I tried to toss in a little bass drum action than those beats became off-kilter and off-beat–I didn’t know how much more I could offer much more beyond the first three songs. What if my simplistic and untrained musicianship made everything sound the same? Sure, they wanted to play raw garage rock, but that didn’t mean every song had to sound like the one that came before.

“Moe Tucker used to flip this on its side,” said Will, the guitarist, as he turned the battered bass drum in the middle of the living room practice space over, “Instead of using a pedal, she played it like another tom.”

“Really?” I said. My dark mood began to lift. What an original trick, made all the more promising because it had been used by the drummer from the Velvet Underground. I’d rather sound like her than Lars Ulrich anyway! Maybe there was still a chance for me to venture beyond the guitar. Maybe I was being too hard on myself, holding onto this idea that music has to be polished and melodic in order to be worth anything. How many bands did I listen to in the nineties that didn’t give a fuck about being perfect? Often times, the rawer and messier the music was, the more I liked it. Huggy Bear, anyone?

“We want a more primitive sound anyway,” added the singer, “And your drumming works for that.”

“I can do that,” I responded, feeling once again inspired to take up the drum sticks, the inadequacy descending back into the pit from whence it came. I promised them I wouldn’t quit the band just yet and that I would go home and listen to tons of Velvet Underground to get all pumped up for our next practice. (I’m listening to their 1969 self-titled record as I write this and I’m reminded that Moe Tucker’s notions about singing were about as high-falutin’ as her drumming philosophy—meaning, no pretension, whatsoever)

Driving home from practice that night, I listened to classic rock on the radio, paying close attention to the percussion, realizing more and more that drumming didn’t have to be complicated. When it comes to drumming, simplicity is the key. I mean, honestly—Neil Peart and Art Blakey are about the only people I want to hear drum solos from anyway.

Later, I stumbled upon a Beat Happening video for the song “Black Candy.” The drummer from my old band was a big-time Beat Happening fan but I’d never really given them a chance. Considered one of the originators of “twee pop,” the band was formed by Calvin Johnson (who is also one of the founders of K Records), Heather Lewis, and Bret Lunsford in 1982. They hailed from Olympia, Washington—a breeding ground for primitive beats and rule-breaking music in the eighties and nineties and probably today. During this particular performance the drummer plays standing up, his only equipment: tom, snare drum, sticks. I watched the video—thinking, “I can do that!” For the millionth time, I remember what drew me to punk rock/DIY in the first place. Primarily, the thundering realization that music and writing do not have to be aesthetically perfect; that in fact, what some consider primitive, ugly or silly can actually be the most stimulating and inspiring art.

I love what Moe Tucker says about her drum “philosophy” in an interview with Drummer Girl Magazine:

“I always think that the drummer’s just supposed to keep time—that’s basically it. I always hated songs where if you rolled at every opportunity, there would be a constant roll throughout the song. Or crashed a cymbal at every opportunity or every place where you felt like you should do that. So I consciously avoided it. While you’re crashing you can’t hear the vocal and you can’t hear the guitar part, you know? I just always felt like the drums shouldn’t take over the song. They should always be under there, obvious, but not taking over the song so that suddenly you realize all you hear is drums.”

So I’m taking on Maureen Tucker and Heather Lewis as my drum gurus, while worshiping at their altar of cool, raw simplicity. Other bands that have taken this approach: Young Marble Giants, The Need, and sometimes, Yo La Tengo.

I’m looking for more inspiration when it comes to simple, innovative and “primitive” drums as I embark on this drumming adventure, so any suggestions are welcome!