It was very difficult for me to come to the U.S. I loved my country, my family, the French language (at the time I didn’t know any other). I loved the culture, the old stones, the old books. It was truly excruciating to go into an unknown world. I didn’t know how to say “bread” when I first stepped here.
Did I mention I am not gifted for music? Everything I’ve ever learnt has been acquired over many hours of hard labor, and a million repetition to grasp the simplest of concept. I used to spend 10 to 12 hours per day on my instrument. I should be the best drummer in the world for the amount of time I’ve clocked in a practice room. I’m not.
I am talking about hardship because, at the time, I was ready to sacrifice pretty much anything in order to learn music. But then, was it a mistake? I came to Chicago. I loved Chicago immediately. I loved the people here. They have a laid back attitude I didn’t encounter in Paris. It was like coming home. Suddenly my quirky personality was recognized, accepted, welcome. I’d never been accepted like that in any other place in the world.
But…
But, maybe I should have gone South, down to New Orleans. In Chicago you get the Chicago Blues and when I first encountered the style, I went from club to club to learn its arcane. It was like I didn’t know anything on the drums. The drumming in the Chicago Blues is not just a set of tools. It breathes and moves according to where you are in the song, what kind of players you’re accompanying and even your own mood. Complex stuff.
I loved going on that part of Lincoln Ave, close to DePaul University. There was one block which had a bunch of Blues club one after the other . You go to watch someone play, or try to get on stage if it’s a jam session. There is always someone you recognize, a little conversation, maybe some infos about a possible gig.
Those clubs are gone.
Maybe I should have gone South. In New Orleans I would have learnt everything that pertains to the drum set: Blues, Jazz, Rock, Funk, Soul etc. I’m sure I’m forgetting some genres. The city has a whole neighborhood dedicated to music and musicians, not just a few blocks. The French quarter can be considered a musicians paradise. Even the people playing for change in the streets are fantastic.
I titles this blog “A regret perhaps” because I do not regret coming to Chicago and establishing my business here. The city has been very good to me. In 33 years, I’ve met only one person who’s tried to harm me. Good batting average. Besides, for all its charm, New Orleans is too hot. Way too hot. I prefer the cold, the six months long Chicago winters. I couldn’t live in New Orleans, it could have been only a passing town, and, at the time, I needed to plant some roots somewhere, I was done traveling. So, I guess, no regrets. No regrets at all.
