No, you're not hallucinating.
I'm back.
As summer turns to fall in New York, and as I start to fantasize again about my January pilgrimage to NAMM, I've been thinking about sextuplets. Have you?
You should be.
Here's the problem with sextuplets, though. It's tough to get past six-stroke rolls. Ugggh - PTSD flashback of me in college, stupid grin on my face, demeaning the whole drumkit with six-stroke rolls during a solo.
It's not like we can blame Philly Joe, either. At least he did interesting things with them.
Nope. I blame the hair-metal era. Boogada boogada. China crashes. Low, unmuffled snares. Coke, (the SODA - let's not get crazy), women (in a purely PLATONIC sense - gawd, would you reLAX?), and six-stroke rolls.
As tastes evolved, we weren't trying to sound like Neil or Simon anymore, and the maligned sextuplet got pushed backstage, like an unemployed older brother nobody mentions in polite company.
Until two things changed.
First, was the invention of the second triplet. Chris Dave. A new era. It was like we could breathe again.
Second was Thomas Pridgen's generation, and their recombobulation (spell check tells me that's not even a word - I think I'm gonna double down tho) of so many Wecklisms into something...cool.
(Vinnie's the paradox. Vinnie was never out-of-fashion.)
Oh, and I haven't fully traced the etymology of the hi-hat fanciness that gave rise to young'uns like Joel Tercotte (for me it was probably DeJohnette, then Thomas)...
...but in this lesson I've got a lick that draws from all three.
It's just one sextuplet lick you can probably learn in a few minutes, but maybe it'll open up some idea-flow and lead to other stuff.
Anyway, lesson.
Back sooner-than-you-think.
Till then, be good,
N