The call of the drum

By my way of reckoning, there’s nothing like the call of the drum, and in downtown Ashvegas, we’ve got the regular Friday night drum circle and a very active drumming scene.

I’ve heard the group outside the drum store on Eagle Street before, but last night I stopped to check them out a little more closely. I didn’t get the chance to talk to the drummers, but it seems like the group is pretty tight and plays together often.

I heard the echoes banging off the downtown buildings after having a couple of brews and slices at Barley’s with friends from out of town. The sound pulled me up Biltmore and over to the little Eagle Street storefront. Others followed.

Tourists stopped and stared. Some bounced their heads. Others snapped photos. Moms tried to keep control of their babies, who feel and react to the call of the drum instinctively. They hop and bounce and run and twirl. What is it about human nature that finds the drum so intoxicating?

I don’t know, and I’m going to stop questioning it, because it speaks to me in a way that, if spelled out, would lose its magic. At least that’s my fear.

The leader of the bunch on Eagle street is a dreadlocked, sinewy dude who charismatically interacts with his fellow musicians and unabashedly plays to the crowd. He sure is fun to watch.

I’m sure they’ll be playing Goombay later this month. You definitely need to stop by and check them out. Don’t deny yourself the call of the drum.