“I try to avoid rehearsals at all costs now. It’s the only way I can survive”: I’m a drummer. You guitarists have made me hate being in bands

My name is Martin, I am a drummer, and I’m here to tell you that you have put me off being in bands. OK, when I say ‘you,’ I probably don’t mean you specifically – but I do mean guitarists in general…

When GW’s Henry Yates recently shared his experiences of becoming a guitarist in a band again, after years of playing alone, he made some great points about the advantages of being part of a team, playing music and loving it.

But he missed out the reasons that I’m very close to hating being in bands – and most of them can be traced to the rehearsal room.

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I try to avoid rehearsals at all costs now. It’s the only way I can survive to the fun bit of getting on stage and doing it. I’ve been doing it long enough that I know how to get away with it, and to be honest, I’d rather make mistakes in the exciting, energised live space than in a small room with… a guitarist.

Not all of you, of course. Drummers’ hackles are raised in particular by the ones I call “egotarists” – these are the players rapidly turning me into a “drumkit owner” rather than a drummer. And so much of it comes down to a simple, but pervasive lack of rehearsal etiquette – and a weird status quo in which certain behaviour is acceptable from guitar players.

Firstly, stop the widdly-widdly when we’re setting up. It can take me up to 15 minutes to get ready as a drummer, and you’re messing about, addicted to the finger motion, rather than getting ready too. Once you’ve sated yourself, only then will you get into proper setting up. By which point everyone else is waiting for you.

Of course, once you’re ready, there’s the almost inevitable rig issue. You’ve spent 15 minutes of room time noodling through your chain, but forgotten to actually line-check. And anyway, I know it’s the cables. Everyone knows it’s the cables! Why don’t you know it’s the cables? Just buy good ones and stop re-soldering $2 cheapies! It’s a false economy – more so if you’re paying for a space.

What’s that? Oh, you’ve brought a new toy to try out. Instruction leaflet cast away with the packaging, indulging the ‘what-does-this-button-do?’ childish energy, while the rest of us wait to express some energy of our own. Cool.

All of this comes back to the same theme: the rehearsal space is a shared space, so share it. Would you dare to exasperate an audience by asking them to bear with you while you try a new setting during a show? Don’t answer that.

In contrast, consider the plight of the drummer. A car full of cumbersome gear, first in and, inevitably, last out – and often unable to really go to town in the bedroom or home environment (the electronic kit is effectively a different instrument, before you pipe up).

In a standard three-hour rehearsal session, I can easily spend 90 minutes or more just waiting to play, and another 30 on set-up and break-down. What’s in this time-wasting exercise for me? Think about this: I play a loud acoustic instrument. I don’t get to noodle at home or try out gear.

The rehearsal room and the stage are the only times I get to really play. And you’re stealing my time, messing about with loads of shit you could have done at home.

There is nothing more life-affirming than sitting behind my guys, keeping time while they fill a room with passionate rock vibes

Another thing you could have done at home is learn the effing songs. When they’re covers, they’re easily heard. When they’re our own, you probably came up with a lot of them, so why don’t you know them?

When I see that clip-arm being attached to a mic stand, and a tablet being attached to it, and now there’s more menu-diving and tapping about as you find the tabs and lyrics – that’s it, I’m drinking bleach.

[Deep calming breath] Look, I do understand why you do it. It’s a wonderful creative trait to want to experiment all the time. But you’re not Jimi Ray Halen, or whoever you want to be – yet. You might be, if you learn to be a musician as well as a guitar player. And all the joys Henry Yates spoke of can be ahead of you.

There is nothing more life-affirming than sitting behind my guys, keeping time while they fill a room with passionate rock vibes. The push and pull of the band, that sense of being in the pocket. And when you take that solo – that one that shows how great a musician you’re capable of being – it is an absolute joy to get out of your way and let you fly.

And then the celebration afterwards. The gang! What we did! The crowd! The payment that doesn’t cover our costs, but who cares! We are the band – and you are welcome.

Everything else just gets in the way of getting to the good stuff. So be that kind of guitarist. Not an “egotarist.” Your drumkit owner will love you, and in time, so will everyone else. Good luck, Stevie Van Hendrix.