Fast Fame for Franz Ferdinand
Paul Thomson is locked out of his house. The Franz Ferdinand drummer may be a jack-of-all-trades, but locksmith apparently isn’t one of them.
Paul Thomson is locked out of his house. The Franz Ferdinand drummer may be a jack-of-all-trades, but locksmith apparently isn’t one of them.
Not long after ringing in the New Year, Chris Raines found himself almost a couple thousand miles away in Atlanta, sitting in the Venice Beach headquarters of Ross Robinson, producer to such critics faves as Korn, Limp Bizkit, Slipknot, At the Drive-In, and Glassjaw. Raines had played his first show with his band, metalcore act Norma Jean, only four weeks earlier.
On any other day, thoroughbreds would be hurtling down the track at Fairplex Park. Today, lip piercings and eyeliner replace bits and bridles. The 2008 Warped Tour is in town.
It’s another dreary June day in Iowa, and the stormy weather is starting to seep into Slipknot drummer Joey Jordison’s brain.
All Patrick Hallahan wants is a hot dog. It’s an unnaturally warm Halloween night in New York City, and Hallahan and the rest of the boys in My Morning Jacket have just arrived in Manhattan, completely exhausted from the trip. The Tennessee-based band — a little bit country, a little bit rock and roll, and very much indie — is here to record their new album, Evil Urges, the follow-up to their critically-acclaimed breakthrough, Z. But the only urge they’ve got right now is for late-night grub, and they’ve got it bad. Good thing they’re in New York City.
Steven Spence dreams of clicks. Late into the night, after the stage lights have gone down, the drum kit has been packed away, and the bus has begun rolling toward the next American city on the tour list, Spence is in a world of regulated clicks: tick, tick, tick, tock. But the clicks are not coming from the wet leaf that’s flapping against the front wheel of the tour bus as it races along I-70 toward San Antonio. Like John Nash in A Beautiful Mind, it’s the sound of numbers ricocheting off the walls of Spence’s brain.
It’s well into a Thursday night in January and R.E.M.’s Bill Rieflin is making himself a cup of Scottish breakfast tea. It’s not a terribly cold night in Seattle, where Rieflin has lived almost his entire life, but the wind makes it feel more intense. The gusts are evidence of January’s last gasping moments, and even then, it’s still only a few degrees above freezing at this late hour. It could be worse.
Brad Morgan is often the guy behind the wheel when his band, Drive-By Truckers, is hurtling down Interstate 85 on the hunt for a Waffle House. And with some 200 shows a year, the Drive-By Truckers bus almost never stops rolling.
As seen in the January 2008 issue of DRUM! magazine. If you’re looking for Riley Breckenridge, you might want to check the insane asylum. Each morning, while …
As seen in the November 2007 issue of DRUM! magazine. James Owen Sullivan is staring at his feet. It’s a sole-melting afternoon in July and the …
Tag: DRUM!