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Here it is, the straight, skinny. Hand drums. Why hand drums? I was 18 years old at the time and visiting a friends
home, that was more like a bohemian outpost, as it were, for some interesting characters. One of these characters was in possession
of a beautiful LP conga drum. I layed my hand on it. The intimacy between the slap of my hand and the head of the conga
drum was a feeling that I will never forget. As I tried to beat out a cadence, my imagination was sparked in a way that
it had never been before. In that moment, I realized that music doesn't always show its face to children. Just think of how
many artists claim they have been playing since they were, oh, in the womb. Well for me, I found "it" when I was 18 years
young. Don't get me wrong, I had a keyboard and some gear when I was a munchkin, but the real animal, "Music", came to
me when I was a young adult. It came to me through the magik of the hand drum and the voice of the conga. Since
then, I have come in contact with some of the most incredible voices and sounds and shapes of hand drums. I have a hand
made conga that a dear friend made for me during his incarceration. It reaks of good karma. I have seen a drum made
from the infant skulls of Jewish children by the nazis. It made me cry. The hand drum has continued to awe and inspire
me till this very day. In my life, the rhythm of the hand drum has been as important to me as the prayer be it to the
Christian.....or the cauldren to the witch, or the joystick to the pilot. The hand drum is the vessel that takes me to
the worlds that are unknown. On a magik algorhythm. At this point, the drummer either hides in the darkness or he
runs to the light. I run to the light. I believe it was a mighty wizard named Robert Hunter who once said the single,
most important thing I had ever heard.....Live in the rhythm and trust to the beat! Behold and be held, the hand drum!
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