The Beat of My Own Drum (36 page)

To me, true musicianship comes from within. I tell all aspiring musicians that while technical skills are certainly important, it’s equally if not more important to bring your spirit to your playing. So while young women may have to face particular challenges in the music industry, they can embrace their womanhood and continue to focus on playing from the heart. Playing with spirit, with heart, and with soul is not attached to any gender.

And now my purpose is much higher. I’m no longer looking for acceptance, applause, or accolades the way I once was. Once God made it clear to me that my music was a gift for me to share purposefully, I was freed from any need for external validation. When He showed me that through my music I could uplift others—that I was blessed with a career that provided me a public forum in which I could share my testimony and make a difference
for other abuse survivors like myself, any need to prove myself disappeared.

Once I gave my heart to the Lord, I understood my greater purpose. My innocent love of playing was instantly restored. I have come full circle, back to that purest of places. And I count my blessings every day.

29
. Reprise

A repeated passage in music

Reflecting like a mirror

Racing in my mind

These photographs remind me

Of what’s not far behind

“FADED PHOTOGRAPHS”

SHEILA E

T
he last twenty years have been cram-packed full of so much music, love, pain, sorrow, and laughter that some of what I’ve done will have to wait for another day or my next book.

Outstanding highlights for me, though, included performing a song from the movie
The Mambo Kings
at the sixty-fifth Academy Awards with Placido Domingo and featuring in the house band for the 2012 Oscars. I’ve played with Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony on the 2011
American Idol
finale and on
The Late Show
as part of Drum Solo Week with David Letterman.

I met (and hugged) Sidney Poitier while playing with Lionel
Richie and was able to thank him for one of my all-time favorite movies,
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

I sat in on drums with Elton John for an Andre Agassi fundraiser in Las Vegas, and I’ve helped promote musicians’ rights in Washington, DC, as part of the Fight for the Right campaign. I have starred and played music in two films for 20th Century Fox and became Dr. Escovedo after being awarded an honorary doctorate in music from the Musicians Institute. I set up my own record company, Stiletto Flats, and cut a new record—
Now & Forever
—with Pops and my brothers. We were blessed to be joined by Earth, Wind & Fire, Joss Stone, Gloria Estefan, George Duke, Raphael Saadiq, and Israel Houghton.

I also had the honor of performing at the Summer Olympics in 1996 with Gloria Estefan. When I arrived for a sound check, I realized I was a few meters from the Olympic track where I’d once dreamed of winning gold. Thinking of my younger self running at dusk on the high school track, I dashed toward the starting lines, got into the starting position, and took a moment to imagine what fulfilling that dream might have been like.

I told my family gleefully later, “See, I made it to the Olympics after all!”

Two years later I became the first female and first person of color to be appointed musical director and leader of the house band for the popular late-night television show
Magic Hour,
fronted by basketball player Magic Johnson.

A few years later I had another chance of a lifetime—to meet one of the Fab Four, who’d so impressed us Escovedo kids when they came to the US back in the sixties. It was 2001 when Lynn received a call from Ringo Starr’s management to ask if I would like to be a part of his All-Starr Band.

My response was, “Heck, yeah. Playing with one of the Beatles? I always knew it would happen one day!” I was super excited, but
then a tad overwhelmed when I heard that Ringo didn’t just want me to play percussion—he wanted me to be his drummer.

I mean, man, me drumming for the drummer from the Beatles! How cool is that?

Ringo’s All-Starr Tour has been going since 1989 and changes its lineup all the time, depending on who’s available. All the greats have played with him, including Clapton, Joe Walsh, Todd Rundgren, and Edgar Winter. Sometimes Ringo sings and sometimes he plays the drums, depending on the song and the set.

I was nervous to meet him at a production studio in LA and even more anxious when he walked toward me looking stern. He crossed his arms and said in that droll Liverpool way of his, “So, you’re going to be the drummer of my band, huh?”

I was shaking.

Then his face broke into a smile and he added, “I want you to know that
you
are the drummer, not me!”

I laughed and said, “Okay, well, what do I have to do?”

Our fellow band members on that first tour included Carl Palmer from Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Roger Hodgson from Supertramp, and Ian Hunter from Mott the Hoople. I was so anxious not to let Ringo down that I prepared for weeks. I still didn’t read music very well, so I wrote everything out in my shorthand to know where I needed to be. I listened carefully to all twenty-six songs on the set list and started to break them down.

Analyzing Ringo’s drumming really gave me a feel for the way he used his swing to communicate, and the way he put a break here or there. Dissecting it like that made me realize how truly different he was. He had such a feel for the drums that he’d have a conversation with John Lennon or Paul McCartney and virtually sing back to them with a drum fill. I had never played that way in my life before, and he taught me so much. The more I listened to him, the more impressed I was.

Playing with a Beatle was like going to Ringo Starr School. Even the way he played a hi-hat was different—it was just how he walks. No one walks like Ringo, and no one plays like him. I was filled with renewed respect.

As part of my ministry, I also went on a gospel tour called Sisters in the Spirit. I have performed at the 2007 Latin Grammys and on
Idol Gives Back
with Gloria Estefan. I created an all-woman band called C.O.E.D. (Chronicles of Every Diva) and toured in Europe with them. I taught Ellen DeGeneres and Orlando Bloom how to play bongos on live TV and did session work with Stevie Wonder as well as performing with him on and off. I was drummer and musical director for Beyoncé for a song called “Work It Out,” which was featured in an Austin Powers movie and which we performed on
The Tonight Show
with Jay Leno.

In the years since we split, Prince and I reconnected and formed a stronger friendship than ever before. He’s my musical soul mate.

There was a moment, before a sound check for his
Welcome 2 America
show in San Jose, California, in 2010, when I had a brief glimpse of the man I’d once fallen madly in love with. In a moment of childlike excitement, Prince and I hopped on bikes and rode them around the park area, across the street from the HP Pavilion.

There we were—just a boy and a girl, playfully riding our bikes, soaking in the late-afternoon sunshine, enjoying a rare moment of unstructured time. He was a superstar, preparing to play to another sold-out stadium in just a few hours. And I would be joining him as a special guest. But for a few moments, we got to let go of any concerns about our image or any serious adult thoughts. We were free from our pasts. We were just two kids, riding our bikes through the park.

When someone snapped a picture of us from his car, we were suddenly jarred back to reality. But nobody could rob us of those precious moments of whimsical play—those few minutes when
we got to be kids again, reckless and free-spirited, riding our bikes, just because.

Another major highlight for me was being nominated for an Emmy for Outstanding Musical Direction for my role in organizing
Fiesta Latina
:
In Performance at the White House
in 2009, which aired on PBS. The program celebrated Hispanic musical heritage and featured performances by me and Pops, Gloria Estefan, José Feliciano, Jimmy Smits, George Lopez, Thalia, Tito “El Bambino” Aventura, and Los Lobos.

Eva Longoria cohosted with George Lopez and Jimmy Smits. Jennifer Lopez introduced her husband, Marc Anthony, and we musicians played in a tent on the White House lawn in front of President Obama, his wife, Michelle, their children, and illustrious guests. At the end of the show, the president and his family came up onto the stage, and I led his daughters, Sasha and Malia, to the timbales to play. The president joined us, and I have a great photo of us all together. That was truly a night to remember!

The year 2009 was also when we lost dear Michael Jackson, a friend I hadn’t seen in four years. Like Marvin Gaye and Whitney Houston, he seemed to have people around him all the time who protected him too closely. In the good old days we’d go out for dinner with Michael, Lionel, and some friends, but that all stopped toward the end. I was invited to the Jackson house to give Randy percussion lessons, but it didn’t happen because their dad didn’t want me to come in. It was crazy. I heard the news of his death when I was on the telephone talking to my bass player. It flashed up simultaneously on the TV news. None of us could believe it. I was in total shock.

I was invited to his funeral at the Staples Center, a place I’d played a gazillion times. It was so surreal being driven past thousands of Michael’s fans respectfully lining the route. When we walked into that vast entertainment space, filled with ten thousand
people, you could hear a pin drop. The silence was overwhelming as we collectively mourned a life taken far too soon.

I had watched Michael onstage as a five-year-old when I was five. I had hung out with him in Germany in the seventies. We’d worked together on
Off the Wall
and “We Are the World.” We’d laughed and played and horsed around together. He was like one of my brothers, and as I sat in that auditorium staring at his flower-decked coffin, I vowed that in his memory I would make the most of my life and of every new opportunity that came my way.

My parents had always done just that—filling their lives, and ours, with love and music—and they continued to be my inspiration.

One of the most remarkable things that happened to me was when they were planning the celebrations for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They decided to renew their marriage vows, which was something they’d also done to celebrate twenty-five years of being together.

They needed a facility in Oakland large enough for all their friends and family to help them celebrate afterward. We went to look at a few places together, but decided none of them were good enough.

Moms told me of one last place they wanted me to see downtown, the name of which I didn’t recognize. “Okay,” I said somewhat wearily, tired of all the searching.

Lynn and I drove to this venue. It looked okay from the outside, which was a good start, and then we went inside. I wandered through the double doors into the lobby and then started walking up the red-carpeted stairs toward the main auditorium.

All of a sudden, it hit me.

“Oh, my God!”

Lynn stopped, too, and asked, “What?”

“This is the place!” I cried.

“What place?”

“The place where I played with Pops as a five-year-old kid!”

She looked blankly at me.

“This is Sweet’s!”

It felt as if I had been there only yesterday.

The art deco building was still much the same inside. As I slowly climbed the stairs, breathless with memory, I could almost feel my arm reaching up to hold my mother’s hand.

I hadn’t been back in forty-four years. The venue had a new name and had been remodeled, but it was definitely the same. Suddenly, I was looking around at everything through the eyes of a five-year-old.

I was, quite literally, beside myself.

It was as if I could see my young self walking in next to me—the adult Sheila in tight pants and high heels holding the hand of little Sheila in her brand-new frilly white dress and patent leather shoes, eyes and mouth open as she looked around at all the grown-ups.

I remembered the way the ballroom opened out at the top of the stairs. I could see the polished dance floor, the high ceiling, and the banquette seating.

I could almost smell the cigarette smoke and feel the heat of all the people dancing. My father’s timbale beat echoed in my ears, and I could see the forest of legs parting to make way for Moms and me as she led me to the stage.

Once I’d been lifted high into his arms and settled behind the congas with my uncles on either side of me, I lost all my nerves, closed my eyes, and played. And, according to Pops, I’d played real good. That had been the start of it all—my first public performance, and the night that would shape the rest of my life. I couldn’t believe it.

The place was still there.

I was still there.

My parents were still alive, and still happily married.

Pops and I were about to play on that same stage again together—this time with Juan, Peter Michael, Zina, and Moms.

There had been so many years and oh, so many memories in between.

I found myself grinning so hard that my cheeks hurt.

Tears of joy filled my eyes and spilled down my face. As Lynn held back respectfully, I walked into that vast ballroom, the little girl within me full of gratitude and awe.

I had survived.

Postlude

A concluding piece of music

All around, all around

Everywhere I look

Your love is all around

“ALL AROUND”

THE E FAMILY

I
can’t believe that my time in this business—what seems like just the blink of an eye—has actually been over forty years. Yet in many ways I feel like I’m new to this career still.