Mark Colenburg sat in a St. Louis church congregation with his family—around the age of two or three, by his recollection—fascinated by his cousin’s playing behind the kit during a service. “I was in the audience, and I wanted to go up there and play,” he explains. “Someone walked me up to the stage, and I was sitting next to the drums. I was super excited. My cousin put me on his lap and had me hold the sticks. He kind of guided me, and I played the song. And I thought, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m the drummer, and I’m playing right now. After the song was over, he sat me down on a chair next to him. And I was just on cloud one hundred because he let me play. From that point on, I was gone.” It might be hard imagining, or flat-out remembering, where we were as drummers around the age of two or three years