That is what I discovered is my crash cymbal sound.
I have a 22" 60's Zildjian that I use as a ride, but it's too brash as a crash.
In a few weeks my two bands (one with Paul Reiser, the other with Greg Evigan) are recording.
I've never had a quality crash cymbal.
For months I've been borrowing one of John Leonard's old Sabians.
So that was my goal for today: find a 1960's Zildjian Avedis 17" or 18" crash cymbal.
I visited Andy's Music on Belmont, where I had purchased the 60's ride a few years ago.
No luck.
Just some sticks and a bundle of birch dowels that Pro Mark decided to call "Hot Rods."
It seems music companies hire assholes to name their products.
They also have these things resembling fly swatters called "SMAX"'s.
And refer to a drum stool as a "throne."
When did drumming become pro wrestling?
Just let me play my 27-piece Mountain Dew Extreme drum kit in peace.
So I called The Drum Pad in Palatine to see if they had any vintage Zildjians.
They were closed.
I checked craigslist, but the guy was selling the whole '64 blue pearl Rogers kit, not just the cymbals.
Then to eBay, where I found a 1960's 18" Zildjian Avedis crash cymbal, whose auction would end at 8:30pm.
Hey!
Grocery shopping would have to wait while I stared at the cymbal's sexy jpegs and contemplated. The bidding held steady at $90, a good deal. I trolled around on the internet some more and found some others going for $200-$300.
"That fucking bullshit is out of my budget."
It was 7:45 pm.
I realized I had only eaten breakfast.
And should've gone grocery shopping.
But now it was too late.
There's not much to do before an eBay auction.
You don't get dressed up.
Or take a shower.
Or shave.
I just sat on the couch getting more hungry and anxious.
With two minutes left on the 60's Zildjian Avedis 18" crash cymbal, I placed my bid.
It occurred to me when I saw the next screen that I hadn't purchased anything on eBay in years.
Because I had forgotten all of my stupid passwords.
And had to re-register.
Which took much longer than two minutes.
And just like that the cymbal was gone.
I replaced the promise of joy I had been anticipating with unforgiving, self-hatred.
I decided to relive what I should have done before the auction, over and over again at the supermarket.
And called myself all sorts of names over dinner.
Idiot.
Imbecile.
Asshole.
And came up with some drum product names:
HITTIN' MITTENS - the drum glove of choice
WACK-A-CA - it's a mallet and a maraca!
PUNCHO!! - a tiny boxing glove for your bass drum beater so that it sounds like a cartoon punching sound effect, and not a bass drum!
KOOL KOMBZ - these brushes keep your 'do as boss as your jazz
Verdict: Loss
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