(comment posted at International Review of Music, 2011)

Musician? I’m a musician now? Where did that come from? I mean, I played drums for years, yeah, but I was one of those drummers for which the term musician was quite a stretch…. I didn’t even know Don knew about that.

Had fun, though. Girls, drugs, parties. Not to mention tearing down on stage as the next band is trying to set up and my guitarist is backstage somewhere doing something fun or illegal.

Oh, and the violence, bar room brawls, a night in jail, kicked over drum kits, getting dusted and playing with my hands (a lotta blood), taking on a dozen cops (they won), a lot of funerals (none my own), turning down a chance to be a porn star (I love that story), who knows what else. A helluva lotta fun.

But it never once occurred to me to call myself a musician.

Of course, how I became a jazz critic I will never understand either. It wasn’t my idea. Nice perks, tho’. Plus you get all kinds of jazz credibility without having to be a, well, musician.