50 Years of Drumming: An Inspiring Tribute to Uncle Devon
The year 2026 marks 50 years of drumming for me. Sitting behind the kit today, it is honestly hard to believe half a century has passed since I first picked up a pair of sticks.
I owe a massive debt of gratitude to the many people who have guided, supported, and played alongside me over the years. But first and foremost, this milestone belongs to my uncle Devon. The rhythm in our family runs deep. Devon initially learned to play from my grandfather, Warren. From there, Devon went on to earn his degree and eventually became the music teacher at the very same little grade school I attended as a child.
He was the spark that kickstarted this entire journey for me all those decades ago that has taken me all around the United States and other countries. Devon had a unique gift for teaching. He made learning the instrument incredibly fun, yet consistently challenging. Most importantly, he always made me feel like absolutely anything was possible if I put in the work.
The Start of 50 Years of Drumming
After Devon convinced me to sign up for band at age 9, my first professional gig arrived at a New Year’s Eve show in 1978 in Vandalia, Illinois. I was 12 years old. It was a four-hour gig, and I traded off drumming duties with Devon while he showed me the ropes. Getting paid $120 for a night of work completely changed my life. Being employed enabled me to buy a drum kit, a huge stereo system from Radio Shack, tons of tapes and records, pizzas, and clothes. I also spent an absolute fortune at arcades on games like Star Castle and Dragon’s Lair.
We saw quite a few things over the years we played music together. We would drive to gigs in my aunt’s 1970s custom van, complete with airbrushed art on the side, a round port window, fuzzy furniture, carpet inside, and a loud 8-track tape deck. I would play tapes like ZZ Top’s “Degüello,” Toto’s first album, Supertramp’s “Breakfast In America,” or Gary Numan’s “The Pleasure Principle.” We played night clubs, fish fries, bluegrass festivals, and weddings. We played in VFW halls, Moose Lodges, Elks Lodges, Eagles clubs, American Legions, and bowling alleys.
Speaking of bowling alleys, Devon and I went bowling before a gig one evening. The ball stuck on Devon’s thumb, sending it airborne before it slammed down onto the lane. We were promptly thrown out of the building.
On stage, however, we were locked in. It was always a crowd pleaser to see us drumming together, particularly on the old 1963 surf rock instrumental “Wipe Out” by The Surfaris. One particular night at a nightclub at Keyesport harbor near Carlyle, Illinois, we played that song five times for various dance contests. It was quite a workout, to say the least. Our arrangement evolved into a bit of a spectacle. We started out with him on the rack toms and me on the floor tom. For the second drum “verse,” he played the floor tom while I played the rack toms. For the third drum “verse,” he was back on the rack toms with me on the floor tom, only this pass was played in triplets. The last time through, we played at an incredibly fast tempo, which really fired up the crowds! Fittingly, the photo at the top of this article captures the very last time we shared the stage, and yes, we were playing ‘Wipe Out’.
Devon was more than a great teacher. He was an excellent musician, mentor, and friend with a great sense of humor that helped make everything go a lot smoother. He introduced me to countless musicians and kept me busy. My first professional studio session work was with him around the age of 15 at QMP, a studio owned by his friend Doug, a fellow drummer and music educator who majored in music at the same school Devon did. It was during these sessions that I learned many foundational tips for a drummer’s recording session.
Whenever I needed anything, Devon was always there. When I wanted to venture off into playing rock and punk music, he helped me get a van and trailer to haul band gear around. When some friends and I wanted to play in a Battle of the Bands and needed a bass guitarist, he stepped up to play with us. Looking back, it is hard not to recall the stories, the miles, and all of the dirt roads, gravel roads, asphalt roads, flooded roads, highways, state lines, oceans, and inevitably the roads back home.
He taught me that drumming was a discipline and a responsibility, but that it was also incredibly fun. He showed me that music could be communal rather than competitive. It is a philosophy that has shaped my entire life, eventually carrying over into how I operate Overlook Hotel Records.
At 73, he is officially retired, but he continues to motivate me to this day. Now, as I spend time teaching my students and my own son the fundamentals of percussion, working with a click track (metronomes, too), running through rudiments, and building drum kit technique, the weight of this legacy really hits me. My son is officially a fourth generation drummer in our family. The line stretches perfectly from Warren to Devon, to me, and now to him. As a fun coincidence, all four of our names end with the letter N!
As I watch him learn, I realize I am simply passing down the exact same passion and patience Devon instilled in me all those years ago.
Thank you, Devon, for 50 years of drumming, inspiration, and belief.
