To: Matmail: I was born and raised in San Diego and have seen many changes. One thing that has remained constant until recently has been the Stadium Way/Friars Road overpass drummer. I remember as a child seeing a man who set up an entire drum kit under said overpass, facing away from traffic, just pounding away. I always assumed he was therefor acoustics, but come on...there’s got to be a better place. Is it some sort of tradition, or is he a troll with extremely good rhythm? Please unravel the mysteries surrounding this urban legend. — LeamusB, the Net
No urban legend. It’s a true thing. Couldn’t discover who the very first underpass drummer was back in the ’70s, but his (her?) legacy survives. My percussion operatives passed me the name of local musician Jordan Mitchell, who has, personally, on more than one occasion, carried the Zildjians and skins out there and thwacked away. He was first taken there by one of his musical mentors. You’re right on one point, the acoustics are pretty good; and there’s enough flat space for a small ensemble to set up out of the general flow of traffic. (You must have missed the bands that show up from time to time.)
But, Jordan says, the real attraction is the lack of neighbors. You can really cut loose, and nobody throws things at you or calls the cops. Hard to find a good place to practice the drums, he admits. Mitchell also agrees with an observation by another local, John D’Agostino (though John’s neighbors must be nicer, since he was never among the underpass crew). John recalls a story about Sonny Rollins, who (probably in the ’70s) used to take his sax out onto one of New York City’s many bridges in the late, late hours and blow his reeds off. It cleaned out his musical pipes, and it was like playing to the universe. No audience, no walls, just the sky. So that’s part of the attraction, too, at least for some.
As far as Jordan knows, there have been no cop hassles or bad vibes in the 20-plus years local drummers have been going out there. It’s just a tradition that’s been passed along, word of mouth, through the music community. That’s quite an accomplishment these days, when there’s usually some bonehead who messes up a good thing for everybody else — or some hypervigilant city official screams, “Insurance rates! Zoning ordinances!” and has all the good stuff fenced off or dug up or cemented over. Well, let’s just hope it stays that way.
To: Matmail: I was born and raised in San Diego and have seen many changes. One thing that has remained constant until recently has been the Stadium Way/Friars Road overpass drummer. I remember as a child seeing a man who set up an entire drum kit under said overpass, facing away from traffic, just pounding away. I always assumed he was therefor acoustics, but come on...there’s got to be a better place. Is it some sort of tradition, or is he a troll with extremely good rhythm? Please unravel the mysteries surrounding this urban legend. — LeamusB, the Net
No urban legend. It’s a true thing. Couldn’t discover who the very first underpass drummer was back in the ’70s, but his (her?) legacy survives. My percussion operatives passed me the name of local musician Jordan Mitchell, who has, personally, on more than one occasion, carried the Zildjians and skins out there and thwacked away. He was first taken there by one of his musical mentors. You’re right on one point, the acoustics are pretty good; and there’s enough flat space for a small ensemble to set up out of the general flow of traffic. (You must have missed the bands that show up from time to time.)
But, Jordan says, the real attraction is the lack of neighbors. You can really cut loose, and nobody throws things at you or calls the cops. Hard to find a good place to practice the drums, he admits. Mitchell also agrees with an observation by another local, John D’Agostino (though John’s neighbors must be nicer, since he was never among the underpass crew). John recalls a story about Sonny Rollins, who (probably in the ’70s) used to take his sax out onto one of New York City’s many bridges in the late, late hours and blow his reeds off. It cleaned out his musical pipes, and it was like playing to the universe. No audience, no walls, just the sky. So that’s part of the attraction, too, at least for some.
As far as Jordan knows, there have been no cop hassles or bad vibes in the 20-plus years local drummers have been going out there. It’s just a tradition that’s been passed along, word of mouth, through the music community. That’s quite an accomplishment these days, when there’s usually some bonehead who messes up a good thing for everybody else — or some hypervigilant city official screams, “Insurance rates! Zoning ordinances!” and has all the good stuff fenced off or dug up or cemented over. Well, let’s just hope it stays that way.
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