The Beat of My Own Drum (34 page)

I was getting pretty comfortable on the show, but the cameras were still a bit crazy to navigate, especially with regard to changing—which I did in the closet or the bathroom. The days of my skimpy lingerie-like stage outfits were long gone.

I was totally unprepared for the day when we’d meet our writers, friends of John’s whom he’d preselected for each contestant. In fact, I was hanging out and eating with them—breakfast that we’d all prepared—before I was informed that they’d be
my
writers.

This was the moment I’d really been waiting for. I loved getting to know my writers, Angie Aparo and James Slater. James told me he’d been a fan for some time and that he’d even won one of my drums from a charity auction. I jelled with them right away and I just loved their enthusiasm as we brainstormed together.

They had some great ideas ready for me based on my thoughts about my father, the
E Train
painting I had done (named after a band I briefly had years before), and my faith. It was important to me that the song be spiritual and inspiring to others. We wrote “Glorious Train” in one hour. It’s basically about us all being on the same train, one big love train.

When it was time to showcase our songs to John and the rest of the cast, I first explained a little bit about my background and some of the inspiration for the song. Once I started talking, I found myself overcome with emotion. I was feeling simultaneously vulnerable about my story and moved by the lyrics, the story line, and the notion of the glorious train going to heaven. I was opening myself up to new friends and was just about to perform a song in a genre that was brand-new to me. As I shared about being raped and molested as a child, I began to shake and cry. I was raw.

When we performed it, this time I didn’t want to play drums. It was just me and a guitar player and keyboard player. The simplicity felt refreshing and necessary. I wanted to focus on the story the song was telling. And I didn’t want to hide behind my instrument. I ended up just miming the timbales part that I’d be playing on the final night when we would showcase our songs in front of the judges and a live audience.

When that night finally came, I was nervous all over again. The venue, a cool country music saloon, was sold out, with thousands in attendance. I don’t fancy myself a great singer (I’m no Taylor Dayne), but my thing is always about energy. I wanted to make sure I projected my authentic, energetic self. I definitely had those wonderful butterflies, but I also had a real sense of anxiety about how I would do. I wasn’t used to that feeling. How would I represent myself in a country song? How was I going to play timbales—such a quintessential Latin instrument—in a country tune? I wasn’t sure how it was going to turn out or how the crowd or the judges would like it, but I knew I had to make it work. I had to do my very best, and with my inherited Gardere competitive spirit intact, I had to win.

Everybody did such a great job. Each time someone went out to perform, we all cheered them on as we watched them on a live monitor backstage. We were competing, but our time together had made us a solid team. I knew that any one of them winning would be something I could be proud of and happy for. I thought it would be between Taylor and Micky. Taylor is the singing queen diva, and I loved her song. It seemed like an instant hit. And Micky brought so much soul and spirit to his performance.

When it was my turn, those butterflies of mine were swarming. I went out onstage, and before launching into the song I started to talk to the crowd a bit to orient them to the background of my song. But people weren’t paying any attention. They were drinking,
talking, mingling. I couldn’t believe it.
These are all country music fans. Don’t they realize they’re being filmed as part of a song competition for a reality show?
You’d think they’d at the very least just pretend to pay attention to me. I was starting to get really frustrated, hurt, and then angry. I wasn’t going to endure this kind of disrespect for a second longer. So I did what I had to do to shut everyone down and get present to my message.

“Does anyone out there have a five-year-old?” I asked. It got somewhat quieter. Some people slowly raised their hands and others looked around to see who had in fact raised their hands. And that’s when I got to the point. “When I was five years old, I was raped.”

Silence.

I shocked them, but I knew that I deserved to have my voice expressed and my song heard. I had something to say, and it was something worth listening to.
I will be acknowledged. You will respect me.
It was a long road to get to that point. But I got there.
We’re all in this together
is a lyric in “Glorious Train.” And I needed the audience to be
in this
with me.

Once I had their attention, I cued the band to start. Next thing I know, I’m in my song.
Papa told me there is beauty in the sky. And he told me there is glory in my eyes.
The first line’s lyric, which conjured up Pops’s belief in me as a young girl, is part of what soothed me in that moment. I got present to it all: the music, the band, the audience, the lyrics. I was also present to my journey—my unexpected journey and all its lessons both on this TV show and my overall life journey thus far.

I’ve got faith and hope deep down in my soul
 . . . I belted out the words with all my might. I took off my heels and ran about the stage. And when I got to my timbale solo, first regular time and then double time—faster and faster—my emotions were explosive. During the gospel-inspired ending, my hallelujahs came from deep
down in my soul. I was thanking God for giving me this experience and so many other blessings. I was thanking Him for getting me, as the song says, “through the darkness to the light,” for allowing me to become who he’d created me to be.

I ended with a scream from deep within me and kicked the cymbal stand over before falling to my knees. I could barely catch my breath. I hadn’t held anything back. When the song was over, I threw down the mic, took in the applause, and tried to come back down to earth. I walked back to where John Rich had been sitting in his beautiful white jacket. He was now standing and cheering me with a huge smile on his face as he embraced me. I had given my performance everything I had, and holding back the tears was not an option anymore.

John then brought me back to the front of the stage, where we both raised our pointer fingers upward to God, acknowledging our blessings.

When we’d all performed and were waiting for the results, I was taut with anticipation. I’m always so careful with my manicured nails, but the tension backstage almost made a nail biter out of me. I was thinking about each person’s incredible performance—how far each of them had stretched themselves. I truly believed that I wasn’t going to win. I knew I put myself out there 100 percent, and I knew the song was great, but I wasn’t sure how it sounded to the audience and the judges. I was still convinced Taylor would be the winner. Hands down. I kept thinking,
She had the best song. I would have voted for it. It should be on the radio, like, yesterday.

The audience cleared out, and the judges got the final say. By this time I’d come to terms with the understanding that I wasn’t going to win—something I don’t usually do. And I was okay with it, too. I’d had an unbelievable experience and had grown by leaps and bounds as a person. I’d stretched myself further than I knew I could. Aspects of my time spent there interacting with the rest of
the cast were like group therapy. I expanded my capacity to trust and I overcame fears. I learned about being a real team player, how to navigate others’ personalities, and to surrender to the group rather than always having to be the leader, in control.

Me without control is rarely comfortable, but this experience taught me how easy it really could be. While waiting for the winner to be announced, I could exhale into a deep sense of satisfaction with all I’d accomplished already.

When I heard John Rich say something about my performance, I started sweating and my heart was beating out of my chest. For real. I’d never been evaluated like this—so publicly, and on television! Even after more than thirty years in the business, I felt like a newbie. And then I heard something in John’s voice, a tone he took that made me realize—
Oh, my God
—he was going to say I won.

I think I won!

When he finally announced me as the winner, I couldn’t believe it. I was overjoyed, but also humbled to my core. It meant so much to me—that I had taken so many risks and had dived into the unknown to be a part of this show. My winning felt like an absolute acknowledgment of that.

Thank you, Jesus. In my heart, I shared my victory with my two incredible Nashville writers as well as every single person on the show. They challenged me to be a better me and created the environment for me to perform the song the way I did. I was humbled, to say the very least.

Back home, I had to keep a serious poker face on. I watched the final episode with Moms, Pops, and Zina as John announced me as the winner. They went crazy—cheering and screaming. Juan claimed later that he had always known I’d won—something about a twinkle in my eye and an extra spring in my step over Christmas.

I must admit, it was a wonderful secret to keep.

The TV show then went to the video for “Glorious Train”—my
official debut in the country music market—that I’d secretly filmed back in LA after leaving Nashville. Pops was moved by the shot in the video where I’m looking at an old photograph of the two of us from way back when we cut our first album together.

Seeing his expression of pride and joy was enough of a prize all by itself.

28
. Diminuendo

Decreasing tempo

Sister’s very kind so it’s never quite a problem

When it comes 2 love

Everything’s so easy when we’re children

One touch is 2 much

“TOY BOX”

SHEILA E

W
henever I am asked what makes a good drummer or a good percussionist (and I am asked it a lot), I struggle to find the words to describe good music—especially something that comes from the soul. But here goes.

The greatest difference between playing drums and playing percussion is that percussion is all about enhancement. It’s as if you’re adding a new dimension to something that is already beautiful. And you have to be selective with how much you add, or else you can ruin the purity of the original.

As I already mentioned, I believe that a good drummer keeps good time and has the discipline to know when not to play. You
have to have rhythm, of course, and you’ve got to have some swagger in your walk. It’s all about presenting yourself authentically on the drums. Not everyone can drum well in each genre of music. When you play funk, for instance, you have to approach it differently from how you play jazz. But there are many ways to make music. If you drum with a jazz style on a funk song, it changes the vibe on that song, if that’s the intention (and, by the way, I have done that). It’s like eating soul food with chopsticks. But if the drumbeat is supposed to be funky, then it should stay true to that style or it can sound corny.

I think a lot of it comes down to playing in the pocket—a slang expression that means playing solid but being musically mature; not rushing the beat, neither overplaying nor underplaying. When I play with really good drummers, I tell them, “You are playing the lint in my pocket.” That’s funky!

A good drummer has to make the drums sing. Rather than always playing at the same level, she or he plays dynamically and is sensitive to the instrument and to what the song needs. If you’re always playing at level ten, then there’s nowhere to go and no room for movement. But if you’re sensitive to the instrument, you can explore the valleys and reach the sky. Knowing your place is equally important. Improvisation within a song can happen organically and effectively when each musician knows when to follow and when to lead. It’s a musical conversation, and your communication skills can make all the difference.

You listen to a band member who makes a suggestion. You agree, you follow her/him, and then perhaps you make a suggestion about where to go. It’s a collaborative musical journey. And for me, this is the most fun and adventurous kind of journey there is.

When I was first performing publicly with Pops, he and I would ask (or maybe just tell) Juan and Peter Michael to join us
onstage and keep time while we did our solos. They’d beat on whatever made sense for that song—cowbells, bongos, drums, congas—while Pops and I did our thing on the quinto or timbales. Sometimes my brothers laugh about this—how in the beginning when we were all much younger and much less known, they’d be the timekeepers while Pops and I got the spotlight. It was the musical family’s version of hand-me-downs for younger siblings, I suppose (coupled with the fact that, as the big sister, I had them work as my unpaid roadies!).

Ultimately, though, we all agree that this was actually one of the best kinds of training for a drummer or percussionist. Maybe it goes without saying, but some points need emphasizing: the drummer is driving the bus. Keeping time is an invaluable skill for any musician. If you can’t keep time, you’re not going to be asked to play with anyone. And if you’ve been offered a gig and you don’t do what is best for the situation and only for yourself, then you probably won’t be asked back.

I do believe some are gifted with certain musical abilities, like excellent timing, but you can learn that skill, too. Everybody has the most basic beat: the heartbeat. It keeps you alive. Each person’s beat is different, though, for different reasons—literally and metaphorically. It’s fairly obvious that you have to have rhythm to be a good musician, but I’d say it is deeper than that. I think you have to
understand
rhythm to be a good musician. You have to understand what it is to keep time, and if that’s all you have, well, then you’ve got plenty. Keeping good time is one of your best assets, because you can’t beat consistency (pun intended). With consistency of rhythm, if you’re in a solo battle against a player with amazing chops and less than amazing timekeeping, in my opinion you’ll be the winner every time.