Page 26 of Living on the Edge

“Hey, hey, baby, do you like what you see?” Jonny’s leaning forward, wooing the ladies in the front row. “Let me take you for a ride, it’ll be worth the energy…”

By the time we get to the chorus, we’ve reeled them in, and they’re starting to dance.

Don’t tell your mama what we do, no one has to know

We’re dancin’ in the moonlight, finding love in our glow

Ridin’ on the back of my Harley, all the way to town

I’m rough around the edges, but I’ll never let you down.

It’swild to see them singing along to a brand-new song that most people don’t know yet. Yes, it’s on our album, but we haven’t sold enough copies for the bulk of the crowd—most of whom are here for Nobody’s Fool—to know the words. But by the time we’re halfway through it, they do.

Thisis what it’s all about.

The energy, the excitement—the power.

When it’s all said and done, that’s what it boils down to.

The power of the music.

And we provide that.

We’re new to the world of rock and roll, at least on a big stage, but we’re already making an impact. That’s what we’ve been working for, and this is what I hope will be the beginning of the culmination of our dreams.

I thump the bass drum a few times, gearing up for my solo. With the rest of the guys off the stage and away from all the electronics, we go full force with the water. I’m really impressed with how Bobby manages to funnel it up, over me, off the stage, and then back for more. He was an engineering major in college, so it makes sense that he ran with it.

It’s the first gig of this tour where we’re doing solos since we can’t do them every night. When a newer band opts for solos it’s always tricky because you don’t know if the audience cares enough about them as a whole to want to hear each member individually.

Apparently, this crowd does.

And this is when I shine—show off a little.

Okay, maybe a lot.

I grew up worshipping the drum gods of rock and roll. Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham, Rush’s Neil Peart, and Motley Crue’s Tommy Lee. I wanted to be them.

And now, I get to pretend I am.

I’ll never say I’m as good as they are, but I’m pretty damn good.

On regular nights, we only have forty minutes, and that’s barely enough time to play the ten songs from our album, but the guys from Nobody’s Fool told us to take an extra fifteen tonight since this is our hometown.

They understand how special that is.

The crowd is quiet as I start out, my feet bumping out a steady rhythm. I have double bass drums, so I use my feet almost as much as my hands.

I add some light taps on the high hat before starting a slow, steady roll on the snare. I keep the pace moderate as I change up the rhythm and then begin to pick up speed. My arms and legs work in tandem and once I find my groove, I just keep going. Faster and harder, droplets of water flying in every direction each time my sticks touch the snare drums.

The audience is starting to get into it, and it feeds me, pushing me to go harder and faster, until my sticks are nothing but a blur. But I don’t need to see—I simply become one with my set.

I’m in the zone, completely focused on my solo, so much so that I barely hear the crowd or notice the phone flashlights that have filled the room.

And I’m still going.

“Minneapolis—can this motherfucker play drums or what?”

Jonny’s voice finally penetrates my musical haze, and I bear down for a few more seconds before I begin to ease off. The applause is deafening, and I reach out a hand to grab the towel Bobby’s holding out.

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