By Gary Stevens
It is often said that we drummers are a gregarious sort. We are more likely than not, to be the guy in the band that deals with the clients, who handles the money and arranges the bookings-the business guy. That is probably because we yearn to play with others so much, that we feel the need to offer a little something extra to be sure that the “best seat in the house” stays our seat. I adopted this business role, and at the suggestion my drumming/singing Uncle Vito in New York City, learned to sing a little. “You’ll get more work if you sing at the drums as opposed to just playing the drums” he advised me in his New Yorker, Italian American accent. Just like some advice given in “The Godfather”, capisce?
Just before my senior year of high school, during the summer of 1973, I walked over to a local playground where the Park & Rec Department was staging a “Battle of the Bands”. I clearly remember seeing this band of slightly older guys, they called themselves “Forest” and recall how different they were. First off, they had a Hammond B-3 organ and a guy behind it (James Lacaprucia) who sang like a grown-up man, not like the rest of us high school kids. Bob Strempek, the bassist had a big amplifier, and the low-end boom from his EBO was really energizing and powerful. A couple requisite guitarists, but nothing particularly memorable. Behind the drums, a four-piece set of “Arctic White” Rogers, sat a mustachioed guy, very good looking, who sang the high parts along with the guy behind the B-3. Seeing other singing drummers was not common, so I definitely took notice. His voice was good, really good, and he played differently than me in a self-taught kind of way. He was a little rougher and it made him sound more organic than the other fellow drum students I surrounded myself with.
Most importantly, for me at the time, was that girls noticed him. A lot of girls. This was Bob Girouard. In the fall of 1974, though I wanted to do nothing more than play the drums all day, I begrudgingly started attending a community college studying Business Administration as a way to placate my father, who often admonished “This music thing might be fun, but you’ll need something to fall back on”. Having left behind a few fun and successful bands back in high school playing both drum set and conga, I was starving to play out again and was determined to find a new musical home on either instrument. In the hall of that community college, I bumped into a musician friend of mine from back in high school. “I thought you went to Berklee to major in jazz tuba, whatever that is”, I asked, probably a little too snarky. “Quit after a semester” was his reply. “I started playing Fender Rhodes with Forest, and we’re playing rock clubs all over the place”, continued his “so there” retort. At this point, my gregariousness, added to my jealousy, plus my need to play, piled atop my desire to get on stage again (to meet girls) resulted in one big plate of “Pushy”. “You need me in that band”, I said. “Nah, we already have a drummer, Bob Girouard”, he replied. “Your drummer sings well, and so do I”, I persisted…. “It will tighten up the rhythm section, c’mon, man, let me sit in on conga, I’ll sweeten with some percussion, let’s try it out”. I showed up at a rehearsal and from there it started to click, though I think I overheard one of the guys say, “Do we really need two drummers”? Gregarious as we are, drummers can be a tad jealous, so I knew I had to tread lightly. I was on Bob’s turf-it was his drum riser I was stepping towards. It started with conga, but I also really did want to play the set, too. These guys were a little older than me and had my respect.
At that time, the Allman Brothers Band was the archetype. We decided to try the double drum sets, which worked out really well. To play double sets requires a lot of intuition and acute listening, as well as a solid assessment of each player’s strengths and weaknesses. I had studied snare drum with a noted classical percussionist, so the double stroke press rolls and the fancy things were mine. Bob had a very organic approach, so I usually had him lay down the floor and I danced around it, but always trying to keep it unified. There is some forethought involved. You have to pre-decide who fills where and when so that you don’t over crowd the aural bandwidth. When done tastefully, having two drummers allows for great shading and dynamics and also looks great on stage. Urged by some of our agents, the band decided that we needed a focal point, and with Bob’s looks and voice, he was the natural choice. He could sing “out front”, and I’d play my Vistalites. Later, we’d trade. Bob would anchor the band from behind his new set of Chrome Slingerlands, and I’d go out front, but shielded by a pair of congas, a vibraphone and pair of timbales! I sang from behind a fortress, Bob had just a mic stand. That takes guts, usually provided by a dose of “liquid courage” in the form of Olde Mr. Boston Blackberry Brandy.
Bob and I shared the “best seat in the house” for about five years, an eternity in the life span of a band, which is the inverse of a dog’s life. We both shared a love of music and especially the drums, often talking about our set ups, snares, heads, cymbals, all the minutiae. In that span of years, Bob was a prolific consumer of drum sets. The Arctic White Rogers, the Chrome Slingerlands, then the Mahogany Slingerlands, probably a couple more, almost always with a Ludwig 404 snare. I switched from the Vistalites to a set of Maple Slingerlands, which were terrific. We morphed from the chrome and clear sets to the wooden sets, similar to the way the music we liked, free-flowing, natural and organic was becoming more jammy and wooden before the blinding, glittery rise of disco.
When we disbanded, we still stayed in touch and checked out each other’s new projects and work. Bob ended up moving to Albany while I stayed in New England for my musical career years. With the love of the drum unifying us, we always stayed in touch. Several years ago, in a way that is particularly impactful for a fellow drummer to hear, Bob told me about the onset of his battle with Parkinson’s disease, which started in 2002. He described being on stage with his band, playing a simple beat, when suddenly, his right arm froze up. His brain was telling his hand to play a figure played a million times prior, but there was no response. Like we all would hope, he thought it was something simple; arthritis, age, or maybe a muscle cramp and it would simply just subside, but it returned repeatedly. Several doctors misdiagnosed it asCarpal Tunnel Syndrome. Unfortunately, it was the start of this terrible disease which he bravely fights today. Insidiously, in its’ early stages, the disease comes and goes giving you glimpses of hope interspersed with the realization of the inevitable, balanced by an ever-changing cocktail of meds. Playing the drums became very difficult since there was really no warning of the “when”, so Bob gigged with his friend Larry Levine, Bob’s “Seeing-Eye Drummer”, who could take over the kick drum if Bob’s right leg froze. In 2012, Bob underwent two brain surgeries for Deep Brain Stimulation. These procedures brought some relief, but after a few years, the drums and Bob just couldn’t give each other what they needed and required. Time to stop playing. Probablylike me, they are set up nearby and the only pleasure (mixed with longing) they now give is to turn and look at them, like looking a drum catalog back in the sixties and think, “If only I could play those with a band”.
As I look back on my life, my years as a musician were the most special, especially in the context of Forest, with two drummers. It taught me how to approach people and situations, deal with people’s differences, assess skills, plan ahead, work constructively in a small group setting, and be an open-minded listener, skills that ultimately support any career or relationship. Earlier this year, Forest, in an homage to Bob, reunited via Pro Tools and recorded a cover of ‘People Got To Be Free’. Some great players came out of Forest, and two very notable professionals, multi-instrumentalist Bill Holloman (Chic, Danny Gatton, Bruce Springsteen), and Jim Kimball (Reba McEntire) did the heavy lifting on the musical architecture. And although his long-retired jazz tuba didn’t show up to work on the session, keyboardist/producer Wes Talbot produced it. We all remain friends to this day.
We chose the song, ‘People Got To Be Free’, the 1969 record by The Rascals during early January, a time of tremendous strife and hatred in our country. I love the way the listener is invited to the revelation of how people are beginning to realize that we are much more alike than different, that it is an easy, universal thing to get along, that we just need to treat each other as we would want to be treated. And that helping a person in need to feel better is one of the best things one can do in life. Or so we thought in ‘69. How little some of us have actually learned. My first listen created a large smile, The band really kicks and sounds powerful-I love the way it came out. My second listen got me emotional. Bob speaks a little at the end, mostly what you would call “inside jokes”. While his singing voice held up, you can hear a touch of weakness in his speaking voice. Referring to our band in military terms, he says, “A lot of people came through that encampment” and that line got me. It is not just a reference to the sometime changing band members, but the fact that each of us we’re changed people as a result of being in such a tight band with such a tight bond, despite our individual musical predilections. The bond between two drummers is even more special. We appreciate each other, share a love of this simplest of instruments and an empathy for our love of playing it. I’d give anything to swing into the drum break of “Les Brers in A Minor” with Bob right now.
On People Got To Be Free, Forest is: Bob Girouard, first lead vocal, recorded at Lisa Girouard’s home in Stuart, FL by Wes Talbot. James Lacaprucia, Hammond Organ, second lead vocal, recorded in his home studio, McClellanville, SC. Bob Strempek, Bass, recorded at Ghost Hit Recording, West Springfield, MA. Jim Kimball, Guitars, chorus vocals, recorded in his home studio, Nashville, TN. Bill Holloman, Saxophones, trombone, trumpet, chorus vocals, recorded in his home studio, Avon, CT. Gary Stevens, Drums, percussion, and chorus vocals, recorded at Akron Recording Center, Akron, OH. Produced by (also keys, but no jazz tuba) Wes Talbot in his Miami, FL home studio.
Gary Stevens resides in Cleveland Heights, OH. After playing and singing professionally with Forest, Eight to the Bar, and The Cartells, Gary started a career in commercial real estate, primarily in the shopping center business. He has held leadership roles with notable companies such as Staples, Sears Holdings, and Lifetime Fitness and has worked across the US and Canada. He is married to notable cellist, Dr. Melissa Kraut, co-head of cello, The Cleveland Institute of Music.