On The Cover
Warpaint’s Stella Mozgawa
If the dominant theme of drumming in the twenty-first century is the blurring of lines—playing versus programming, online versus on stage, tradition versus exploration, band membership versus freelance work—then here is a player who stands tall as a gleaming reminder that each of us can, and should, have it both ways, at every turn.
Story by Adam Budosfky
Photos by Alex Solca
Stella Mozgawa does more than cover the requisite demands of the contemporary drummer. She does so in a way that transcends recognized borders. This allows listeners to experience the music she makes—particularly with her band, Warpaint—in an analysis-free zone, one where the job of grooving mightily is not compromised by digital technology but enhanced by it. While Warpaint’s music is in a constant state of flux, matters of the head and the heart are always addressed in equal measure. Mozgawa consistently plays it slinky and smart. She offers endlessly good-feeling grooves that owe as much to the timeless tug and throb of R&B architects Bernard Purdie and James Gadson as they do to the fractured-loop mindset of rhythm futurists like Aphex Twin and Autechre. She’s that rare thing in modern music: a stylist, with an idiosyncratic and recognizable sound.
Then again…she’s kind of not that at all. Though Mozgawa is generally recognized for her membership in Warpaint, the spacey L.A. indie-dance band that also features bassist/singer Jenny Lee Lindberg and guitarist/singers Emily Kokal and Theresa Wayman, the list of musical mavericks whose records and tours she’s contributed to is as diverse as it is impressive. You need only listen to a random selection of tracks that Stella’s played on to quickly marvel at the breadth of her abilities. Try these for starters: Flea’s skittery 6/8 instrumental “A Little Bit of Sanity,” Kurt Vile’sTopanga Canyon–era chiller “Wakin on a Pretty Day,” Andy Clockwise’s garage burner “Everybody’s in a Band,” SBTRKT’s woozy post-trip-hop track “Voices in My Head,” Soko’s bare and breathy “We Might Be Dead by Tomorrow,” and Cate Le Bon’s tumbling and trippy “Wonderful.” In each case, Mozgawa reads the room and offers perfectly in-tune commentary. And she never bores—but she never distracts either. Who wouldn’t want her on their track?
Still, Warpaint would seem to be Mozgawa’s ideal canvas. Since replacing Lindberg’s sister, Shannyn Sossamon, who left in 2008 to concentrate on her burgeoning acting career, the drummer has eagerly accompanied her bandmates in their conscious evolution toward more detailed, experimental, and groove-oriented sonic expressions. As comfortable playing the roles of arranger and sound designer as she is reimagining classic Steely Dan and Led Zeppelin drum tracks for a new millennium, Mozgawa-the-total-artist comes to the fore with Warpaint, as fun to listen to for her thoughtful rhythm work as she is to watch for her shimmying, slamming performance style.
After witnessing an inspiring gig at Brooklyn’s Warsaw recently, this writer didn’t know what to do first when he got back home to his own kit—remove half his cymbals (Stella squeezes ample sounds out of a simple ride/hi-hat setup), set up a full-length mirror to try to emulate her wholly engaging body-rocking moves, or cue up some Sugarhill Gang, slap on the headphones, and work on Stella-style beat-smithery, in an attempt to better understand the Mozgawa drumming mindset.
Several hours earlier, though, at a coffee shop down the street from the club, MD was getting to know Mozgawa the person. Self-assured but warm and funny, tall and athletic though not imposing, articulate yet interested in your take on things, Stella comes across as equal parts professional craftsperson and wide-eyed artist. We began our conversation by exploring some of the intriguing ways unexpected combinations such as these inform Warpaint’s latest album, Heads Up.
“Got My Girls, I’m Not Alone”*
MD: Warpaint is experimental and beat-oriented, but unlike a lot of avant-garde electronic dance music, for instance, much of the experimentation comes from a performance place, rather than just from postproduction.
Stella: Warpaint is my favorite kind of music to listen to. I think the interesting thing about this band is that there’s no lead singer and no real leader. It kind of transfers at every moment, and in every song. And that breeds so many different ways of doing things. So making every song is like creating something new.
MD: Heads Up was created a bit differently from your last album, right?
Stella: I began playing with the band in late 2009, and we started recording The Fool in the fall of 2010. Most of the record was already written before I joined, though there were holes in terms of the drumming and the synth parts.
For my second album with the band, Warpaint, we went to Joshua Tree for a month and lived in this geodesic dome where we set up a little studio, and we wrote most of that record then. It was very much a communal experience in that we were all making space for each other to explore ideas simultaneously.
For Heads Up, we sort of happened on this technique that was healthier for us, which involved everyone being able to flesh out an idea maybe 60 percent of the way, and then getting everyone else or one other person to fill in the other 40 percent. So everyone gets to express themselves as much as they want.
A song might be deconstructed and then reconstructed later with all of us in the room together. But nothing was reimagined to a point of shock. So, for example, Theresa had a semi-demo for “By Your Side,” the second song on the record. I came in and assisted on the rhythmic side and helped construct the second half of it, and then took the end of the song home and remixed it there. So it went through a few filters, and I felt that I could do whatever I wanted to.
I feel like everyone felt that way too. Whereas when you’re in the room with everyone, sometimes you kind of stop yourself from suggesting things, like, “There’s a lot of dominant energy here, and I don’t want to add to the noise.” We’re all very strong personalities. Our last producer, Flood, said that we’re like a democracy of dictators, which is very true.
MD: Band psychology is so interesting. I just started playing with some very old friends again, and…
Stella: …do you see yourself locking into old patterns? Like, “I only have that relationship with you—you bring that out in me.”
MD: A bit, yeah, for better or worse. But at the same time it’s good because unspoken musical things happen automatically.
Stella: That’s so special. I think the most exciting aspect anthropologically, emotionally, and philosophically about playing in a band is exactly what you’re talking about. The music is kind of secondary in a way, because you’re in this pressure-cooker environment, and it’s not like being in a relationship with one other person. It’s truly like a family, but also like a marriage. All those lines are blurred—so crazy.
MD: Yeah, it’s been a little demanding.
Stella: But worth it, right? I do feel that since joining this band and since kind of committing myself to collaborating with people, I’ve had an accelerated learning curve. I’m an only child. I had family friends and such, but there were gaps in my upbringing in terms of learning how to coexist with people. And now I love and thrive on that energy. It’s this bigger-picture thing that I think is more fascinating than music alone.
When you have four or five people who simultaneously are trying to enact and manifest their dreams, their deepest creative desires and impulses, together at the same time—it’s crazy! Sometimes it’s really hard. But when you create something in that situation, it’s unique. And you can be proud and think, like you said, I don’t have this relationship with anyone else. It’s kind of an extension of your affection for people and the things that you like about them. Because everything they play is an extension of their personality, so it’s kind of a celebration of people and of community.
MD: The first song on Heads Up, “Whiteout,” is a neat indication of your playing and song-constructing style. I like how the woodblock-sounding rhythm at the beginning is re-voiced on the snare.
Stella: That’s actually an electronic beat, and I’m playing live drums over it.
MD: Are there two different snare drums on that cut?
Stella: It’s actually three—two in the electronic beat, which is something that Theresa programmed, and then I played over it. We did this long-form substitution where we tried sometimes only the electronic beat, with me maybe playing other instruments or percussion, and other times just drums. When we put them together, it sounded full and interesting in a way that’s kind of busy, but the way that they interact is interesting.
MD: The ability to balance electronic sounds and the acoustic ones is something that Warpaint excels at.
Stella: It’s pretty wily sometimes. I love making electronic music on my own. Theresa is especially into that kind of stuff. If we like the sound of something, we go with it. And I find that as thrilling as playing the drums.
MD: As great as some electronic music is, having live instrumentalists involved can really elevate it. Is that part of the way the band thinks?
Stella: Definitely. Something that kind of led me to bridging the gap between playing the drums and programming them on a computer or a drum machine or sequencer was a song on the last album, “Hi.” We had a few shows while we were in the preproduction process, and I started playing it on my SPD-SX pad, and I realized that I was getting these grooves that had the spirit of playing in the moment, but using sounds that are often only used in a rigid, loop type of environment. I love those sounds, but I don’t want to play my kit and get it to sound like a 909. I’d rather just use a 909, or put 909 sounds on a sampling pad and play it like a human being, where you hear mistakes and variations, exactly the same as you would if you were playing it on a drumkit. That [distinction] is really important to me. So that’s part of my toolbox now.
MD: It’s not easy to blend electronic and acoustic sounds well.
Stella: I’m still developing it. It has a lot to do with mixing, and a lot to do with being conscious of not stepping on someone else’s toes. We only want to bring something to the table that’s going to elevate whatever’s already there or honor it in some kind of way. And sometimes it’s hard to bring in those electronic elements and not have it shit all over the acoustic stuff. It’s not respectful to be like, “Look at all these new toys I got from Native Instruments!” So just trying to be tasteful is number one. And I know the kinds of sounds I’m attracted to and the things I don’t like as much.
MD: So is that part of your approach, having a somewhat limited palette?
Stella: Yeah, definitely. I like the idea of creating my own samples, and I’m very particular about what I put into my SPD-SX pad, instead of having every drum machine ever made in there so I can pick and choose and make Frankenstein kits. With modern technology you can drive yourself crazy over the number of options. It can steer you away from focusing on a sound that will be known as yours.
MD: There are so many more choices to reject now.
Stella: Right. Everyone has the ADD gene now, especially creatively. So I think it’s more important now to have limitations in terms of time, sound, and technology, and you kind of have to put that on yourself. Otherwise you’ll find yourself exhausted from watching three hours of tutorial videos on YouTube, and you’ve not done anything creative. It’s a constant struggle for a lot of people making music today.
MD: Do you have a desire to be recognized by the drummers in the house?
Stella: When I was younger I did. There were two elements that kind of bred that urgency, that need for acceptance—which is an important thing to have when you’re young and starting out. First, you’ve got to have a goal, and mine was just to prove that I was good at it. And there weren’t a lot of girl drummers out there—though that’s something that I don’t care about much anymore, because I feel the whole landscape has changed so much.
The second thing was that it was very fringe to make money being a musician in Sydney, Australia, especially as a professional session drummer. My parents were musicians, and though it felt like a possibility that I was going to make money out of it, it wasn’t a very good possibility. There were maybe four full-time working session drummers.
MD: Why was that?
Stella: The scarcity of resources. The lower population. Less interest in the arts and less of the foundation of a creative state. L.A. is based around the entertainment industry. So everyone goes there because there’s work there. Whereas in Australia it’s very much about sports and commerce, and art is kind of an afterthought. And I was lucky—I grew up in a comparatively good moment in Australian history. We had a great music program at my school. There were multiple bands: a wind orchestra, a jazz band, rock bands. But it was still kind of weird to think of myself as wanting to be a professional musician. It just felt kind of impossible. But I desperately wanted to do it, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to start when I was thirty. I wanted to start early.
MD: So when was that moment when…
Stella: …when I decided? I knew when I was really young, probably around ten or eleven, though I was playing guitar and bass then. When I was thirteen I started playing drums, and that desire just got more intense. And when I was nineteen years old, I was two years into a college degree in Sydney—not in music, but psychology. I was going to be a social worker, basically. But two years in I thought, Now is the time to take a year off and dedicate myself to music. Because I was playing in, like, seven bands in Sydney and also trying to get this degree, and I felt like I had a foot inside all these doors but I wasn’t committing to enter any of them. So I told my parents, who were very adamant about me getting an education.
MD: They wanted you to get your degree.
Stella: Right, to have for security, and then I could do whatever I want. And I was like, “Hmm…give me a year to figure it out.” A month and a half later I was asked to move to New York, after the term had finished. It was one of those freak things. But I do believe that if you really want something, you can get it. I mean, I was very fortunate being raised in an English-speaking country with the possibility for something like that happening, where a band could translate to an audience in America or Europe.
MD: Having parents who were musicians must have helped too, even though they wanted you to get your degree.
Stella: Totally. I mean, they made the whole thing happen initially by just putting the idea in my head that it was possible to have this kind of job. If they were both accountants and maybe played guitar in their early twenties but then stopped taking it seriously… But they emigrated to Australia very much wanting to play music professionally, which they did until I started high school. The first twelve years of my life was them gigging. But it was hard—playing in restaurants and stuff.
MD: What kind of music was it?
Stella: They were playing in cover bands. That’s how they made their bread in Australia. But my mom was a pop star in Poland, and my dad was a session jazz bass player.
Stella. Yeah! Very cool.
MD: Do you have records with your parents on them?
Stella: Yes. So, my mom was in this quite popular group in the ’70s. Do you know the amazing British electronic music producer Four Tet? He actually found one of my mom’s records, and he bought two copies, one for himself and one for me to give to my mom. And it’s got a sick drum break on it! [laughs]
MD: So when did your folks stop worrying that you were going to make a career out of this?
Stella: They undoubtedly still worry. But I think I’m in a space now where…to go back to your initial question, I wanted to be a famous drummer—that was very much the goal. Now I’m happy to be in a studio making music, composing music, playing on people’s records, still being in Warpaint for however long it’s still relevant to everyone…. I know now I want to make music forever. But it’s not necessarily about being famous.
Warpaint Heads Up, The Fool, Warpaint /// Flea Helen Burns /// Tom Jones Spirit in the Room /// Swahili Blonde Man Meat /// Kurt Vile Wakin on a Pretty Daze, Spotify Sessions /// Soko I Thought I Was an Alien /// Adam Green Aladdin /// Cate Le Bon Crab Day /// Jagwar Ma Every Now & Then /// Andy Clockwise The Socialite /// Tim Presley The Wink /// jennylee Right On! /// SBTRKT Wonder Where We Land /// Kim Gordon “Murdered Out” /// Regina Spektor Remember Us to Life /// Ed Harcourt Furnaces
Go Where You Wanna Go, Do Anything You Wanna Do
MD: You’ve worked with quite a number of artists outside Warpaint. Has that always been a goal?
Stella: Well, I always did it. Before I was in Warpaint I was doing a lot of different projects. I was touring but also doing a lot of recording, saying yes to a lot of things and enjoying the variety of experience. What was great about being in a band was being able to focus a bit. I can still do those things when I want to but be really selective about it, which to me is the perfect situation. I really only make records and collaborate with people who I think are special.
When I’d just moved to L.A. I was so stressed out about it: This might be the last phone call I get from someone who’s interested in me playing drums with them! That constant anxiety of being forgotten or not thought of as very interesting or good enough. Being in a band takes away a lot of that anxiety, because it makes it completely about you. If you make a good record and you play with passion and fire, you’ll be fine.
MD: And you’re working.
Stella: Exactly. You’ll go on tour…so it puts a really lovely blueprint on everything that you can attach yourself to and have a work ethic about. As opposed to, [desperately] Who am I going to be for this next band? or How do I have to dress? or whatever. You can do what you want, because it’s your thing now.
MD: Was there ever a time when someone said something to you about your prospects as a drummer that was either particularly encouraging or daunting?
Stella: I don’t know about daunting so much, but I remember there being a fear of losing integrity when I moved to America and wasn’t playing in a band that was completely the way that I wanted to express myself. There was a punk part of my brain that was like, No! Don’t do it! But ultimately I knew where I wanted to go. And I knew I was going to get there somehow. I knew that I wanted to play music every day, and you’ve got to play music every day to play music every day [laughs], not just sit around and formulate this cunning plan to trick some famous band into asking you to play with them, and then make a ton of money and be a star drummer or something. You’ve just got to be out there and be industrious.
On the positive tip, there’s something that I think about every time a situation comes up with either the band or options that I might have or projects that I might commit a certain amount of time and energy to. The reason I moved to L.A. was to make a record with Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which was in turn how I met the girls in Warpaint. I was living in his house while we were making this record, and I was stressing about whether to do a tour with someone, worrying that I would lose session work. I was like, “I really don’t like the music that much, but I need to pay the rent,” and he said, “Never go for the fast nickel; always go for the long dime. You’ll be fine.”
And that makes sense—invest in something that’s integral and important. I mean, you can do the fast-nickel thing if you want to get the experience of playing in a reggae band for a night. Or you might do a fun gig with your friends that’s musically not anything you would have imagined doing but that might enable you to buy a really cool drum machine. But ultimately you should make your decisions in terms of the long-term satisfaction of making something that’s beautiful, as opposed to just stoking the ego fire every time and making money. You can’t live like that. After a while it’s just exhausting.
What Becomes a Drummer Most?
MD: Do you feel that there’s a specific set of skills that all drummers today should keep up?
Stella: I think it depends on the job description of whatever project you’re doing. It’s always such an interesting blend of how creative and impulsive the person wants you to be. More and more I find myself in situations where someone gets me into a studio and says, “I’ll play you the track, and you play over it. Do what you feel.” And I like that just as much as I enjoy hearing, “I programed a beat on a 606; make it sound the same, but play it live.”
All the skills I’ve learned since I started playing professionally have been very much influenced by the work I’ve been asked to do. And I think that’s what’s so exciting about it. It’s not like I even know if I’m getting “better” as a drummer; I just know I’m having wider, richer experiences playing music. Sometimes I feel like I’m being hired to be a technician, and that’s really fun. But sometimes it’s about using another part of my brain altogether, like, “Rearrange this song,” or “Where do you hear the chorus?”
The levels of involvement and collaboration are so different now, even from when I started. I think if my dad hadn’t listened to Steely Dan, and if I didn’t listen to and try to emulate the drummers in Tool or Primus when I was growing up, I wouldn’t have half the skills I have now. I didn’t have formal drum education for an extended time—it was just a year or so—so that’s kind of how I learned to play. And a lot of those guys were very impressive, athletic, and musical—the definition of what a drummer was at that point. Whereas now, and I apologize if this sounds pretentious, but I hope to be hired as a “musician” rather than as a “drummer.” I like being involved with all the other stuff, and that’s why it’s great being in a band.
People are making music in such crazy ways now! It’s not just everyone in the studio together and tracking everything live, or playing the drum part and then overdubbing the bass. It might be, “We made this demo on Ableton, and it got remixed by this other person, and now you’re going to add this little part to it.” And other times it’s, “We’ve got absolutely nothing. You’re going to start playing, and we’re going to build a song over it.” So I think it’s interesting that there’s less of a definition of what a drummer is. It’s a brave new world.
I think it’s all about how rich you want your experience to be and how versatile you want to be. And it can be scary. I have no idea what kind of drummer I am. I have tricks that I do when I feel like I have to do a certain job or add a certain element to a song. But it’s such an open field, and it’s a game without rules. I mean, drumming is endlessly more interesting than it ever was back in the day—the feeling of creating something rather than executing something is really rewarding.
MD: Speaking of execution, sometimes just a slight variation of where the bass drum falls in a bar can change the mood of a piece. Is this the sort of thing that you focus on in your playing?
Stella: When I was younger I’d spend time working on the gap between double hits on a kick drum or something. Or what if I pulled the second note on the snare slightly? I love drummers like Steve Jordan, who are right on, but when they stretch time a little bit, you’re like, Whoa, this is weird. People like
J Dilla were really aware of that kind of thing. And maybe being an enthusiast and listening to that kind of stuff, I like to explore how that swing can make someone feel a little uneasy or dance in a certain way.
I just know the kinds of beats that I like, and I guess I try and use a little bit of that spirit in the music I make. Sometimes on a session you have to be very much on, but often it’s more about your character. If someone says, “Play an MPC [drum machine] swing,” you’ll play it differently from the way I play it. And if there’s a preference for your personality, then you’re going to be the one to do it. I’m interested in expressing my idea of comfort or discomfort, or rigidity or fluidity, in a certain moment. What do I want to hear in this song? Maybe I want to play a really loose hi-hat but a tight snare and bass.
Going back to how music is changing, a lot of people who are writing the beats that you’re hearing on the radio and at festivals are not drummers. But they’re involved in that world because they’re able to express their personalities through composing on a sequencer or computer, and that’s what it’s about.
Drumming is becoming like singing, where it was very much a technical vocation and a job that had limited parameters, and now anyone can make those decisions. Not that I want to be the sloppiest drummer alive—I very much care about doing a job right and giving someone what they want and not having very much of an ego—but ultimately it’s about expressing your personality. And if you get to engage in a world that maybe not many drummers are engaging in, like the electronic composition world, then you have an advantage of having spent ten or twenty years behind a drumset. You know what a snare sounds like when you hit it in the middle or when you crack the rim. That stuff is very important, so why not involve yourself in that world of people that are taking drumming into their own hands?
Tools of the Trade
On Heads Up and on the album’s supporting tour, Mozgawa plays a 1964 Slingerland kit in jazz sizes (12/14/20). “Live I generally play C&C drums,” Stella says. “Those guys are amazing and they made a kit for me for our last tour, which is more of a rock kit. But since we recorded with smaller, more electronic/samply funk sounds, the Slingerland seemed like the right one to go on the road with. On the last record and on a lot of the studio stuff I’ve done, I used an early-’70s Pearl wood/fiberglass set, the one James Gadson loves. That’s one of the best-sounding kits ever.”
On stage Mozgawa has triggers on her snare and bass drum. “On a lot of the tracks on the album,” she explains, “we made the snare and kick sounds a little grittier and more electronic, so I’ll just fatten up the snare on certain songs live, like ‘New Song’ from Heads Up and ‘Disco/Very’ from the last record, just put a LinnDrum snare on it. I use an Acrolite snare, which is exactly the snare I want to use forever until the end of time, but they never really made a deep model. So I guess I’m compensating a little for that, but also the familiarity of that tone. Also, even though there’s four of us on stage, we’re sort of a three-piece, and we’ve got to kind of fill in sonically—a little more decay on certain things.”
Mozgawa uses a Roland SPD-SX, both to play beats on and to store samples. “We don’t run tracks,” she says, “but I’ll use a click for about four songs in the set, all new songs, where I’m triggering electronic samples or phrases. When I’m triggering them I have to be in time.”
Live, Mozgawa has been using the Istanbul Agop 24″ Signature series ride and 15″ Signature series hi-hats shown here; she’ll also use two 16″ Agop series crashes for hi-hats, as well as a 24″ Agop Signature ride and a 24″ Turk ride. For the recording of Heads Up, she used a two-ride setup, with the second one in the standard crash position.
Mozgawa uses Promark Shira Kashi Oak PW5AW sticks and Remo and Aquarian heads.
Mozgawa on Record
Stella Mozgawa’s inventive approach stokes a cool, intense burn underneath Warpaint’s dreamy brand of indie rock. Creative grooves mix electronic elements with catchy, syncopated accents. Powerful fills land confidently without a crash on the 1. And the drummer turns the heat up with huge, engulfing feels. Here we explore select cuts from the band’s most recent record, Heads Up, and 2010’s The Fool, with Mozgawa adding commentary.
“Whiteout” (Heads Up)
Hi-hat accents slash through a lively broken-16th-note pattern on this meditative opener. “There’s a syncopated drum machine loop running in the background,” Mozgawa says. “I’m playing more of a driving, randomized 16th-note pattern over the top. I’m kind of supporting the initial groove and building the dynamics of the song by ducking in and out of focus.”
“The Stall” (Heads Up)
In the first verse of this brooding cut, Mozgawa plays ghost notes with the left hand on the drumhead in between rimclick backbeats. “I totally stole Bernard Purdie’s finger caress on this one,” she explains. “I tend to write a lot of these kinds of beats. I love techno music, so it’s important to me to have more of an interesting variation on a beat if it’s going to remain relatively constant. There’s a lot you can do to add color.
“Don’t Let Go” (Heads Up)
Mozgawa channels John Bonham with slightly distorted drums and a massive groove that stomps through this tune at 1:07. “We didn’t think we could pull off a classic Bonham sound in our makeshift studio—our rehearsal space—but I think we came pretty close,” Stella says. “The song called for something languid and spacious, and Jen had a very similar vision for the tones she wanted to hear. Sometimes that decision is so natural you just have to go with it.”
“Heads Up” (Heads Up)
This upbeat, broken-8th hi-hat groove recalls bands such as the Cure when it enters at 1:43, and tom fills accentuate the pattern. “This one has a little bit of percussion/trash can overdubbing,” Mozgawa says. “But I’m primarily playing a set of Rototoms in the take. I can’t remember precisely what was overdubbed or not, but I can tell you that re-creating all those parts live has been fun and wonderfully challenging.”
“Warpaint” (The Fool)
This killer 16th-note hi-hat groove tears into the second cut off Warpaint’s first full-length LP around the 2:00 mark, with driving and catchy open hi-hat accents. “The syncopated kick drum that kind of slows down the beat is another techno rip-off,” Mozgawa explains. “It adds some tension and discomfort as opposed to simply ‘feeling’ faster or busier. And I love fills that carry over past beat 1 of the next bar, or the downbeat of any bar. That’s my favorite trick. I love simplicity when there’s a level of cheekiness involved. I’m not sure if that’s necessarily relevant to this particular song, but it’s my favorite thing about listening to drummers.”
Transcriptions and text by Willie Rose