My Weekend with Dave Weckl

Exactly ten years ago, a weekend with Dave Weckl taught me an important lesson about meeting your heroes.

I had been a rookie sales associate at Rupp’s Drums for a little over a year when Dave came to Denver on his Yamaha Drums 30th Anniversary Clinic Tour in December 2013. We had the pleasure of hosting him for two events, a sold-out drum clinic at The Toad Tavern followed by a private masterclass at Kent Denver the very next day. Most folks know that I grew up around drums and drum shops, but you might be surprised to learn that this was actually my very first drum clinic experience; and what an initiation it was! I’m confident that I don’t need to expand on how memorable that drum clinic was for myself and everyone in attendance. It was Dave Weckl. It was cerebral sorcery of the rarest kind. 

After the venue had emptied and the drums were packed up, the Rupp’s crew went out for a late dinner with Dave and Yamaha rep, Greg Crane. It was here that I learned a hilarious and enduring lesson about artist hospitality. The restaurant we patronized that evening agreed to stay open late to accommodate us and apparently someone on their staff thought it would be a great idea to blast Dave’s famous solo album “Masterplan” through the house speakers (connected to every room in the restaurant) while we looked over the drink menu. When our server returned, Dave, slightly red in the face with embarrassment, calmly and gracefully asked for the music to be changed. Secretly, I knew he was thinking “I just listened to myself play for three hours! Can we listen to literally anything else?!”. To this day, when I am hosting a clinician I go out of my way to ensure that any music he/she hears throughout the course of their day (in my car, in my shop, etc…) is not only not their own music, but is as far away from their own music as possible. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was cranking Abba while driving Dennis Chambers around town in 2018. 

This photo was taken at the end of that evening and my twenty-one year old world was rocked when I was asked to assist him with his masterclass the following day. I didn’t hesitate to say “yes” and the next day I found myself setting up chairs and practice pads while Dave methodically tuned his drums. This was the first time I was alone in a room with one of my drumming heroes and as tempting as it was to ask him a thousand questions and to tell him how much I adored his playing, I intentionally kept my head down and focused on doing the best job I could do, careful not to tread on his toes or become a nuisance of any kind. I didn’t want to be the thousandth person to say “I’m such a huge fan” that weekend. I wanted to make his job a little easier and give him a brief respite from what I’m sure had been weeks of constant drum-nerd banter. I didn’t know if he’d appreciate or notice my effort but it didn’t matter to me; I was there, and that was enough. When the masterclass ended, however, Dave asked me “Is there an ATM in this building? I want to pay you for your help”. Despite being completely broke at the time, I told him that I had volunteered for the gig and was more than happy to do it for free but he insisted and spent the next fifteen minutes running around this massive school, in the dark, to find an ATM. Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop thinking “Why is he insisting on this? Should I refuse his money? What if Greg arrives to pick him up and I have to tell him that I was responsible for losing Dave somewhere in the depths of this enormous, pitch-black school building?”. He eventually returned emptyhanded and ended up writing me a check. It was official. I had been paid to “tech” for Dave Weckl. I went to sleep very happy that evening and couldn't help but wonder if he appreciated the small amount of breathing room I tried to provide for him. 

In recalling this experience, I feel compelled to impart some time-tested wisdom that I gained that weekend. Your heroes are human beings and it’s important to treat them that way. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard someone tell me “I met (so and so) once and he is a huge jerk!” or “I bumped into (so and so) once and he was the sweetest person I’ve EVER met in my entire life!”. In those moments I can’t help but wonder “how could someone possibly draw such a definitive conclusion about another person after spending a few minutes with them?". What if (so and so) just spent four months on the road and is simply exhausted? What if (so and so) was being observed by others and felt pressured to dial up the niceties? In short, context matters. 

They say “don’t meet your heroes” but I’d modify that to “don’t meet your heroes if you aren’t ready to see them for the very real, nuanced human beings that they are”. At some point before the drum clinic, someone had told me with that Dave was a difficult guy to work with and I’m sure he heard it from a friend who heard it from some guy who probably fumbled the drum sound at one of Dave’s gigs back in the Eighties. Luckily, they were all dead wrong. The person I spent the weekend with was generous, patient, humble and the very picture of professionalism. 

Your heroes are more than the things you’ve heard about them from others or the things you think you know after a brief encounter. Look a little harder and you will often be surprised and enriched by what you find.