Untitled Document

Phoebe Summersquash

Brooklyn, NY

Brilliantine, The Sixes

small factory, The Godrays, The Vivian. I've also filled in with a number of people and bands for short stints.

Ward White, Artificial Light, EP, Plump Records, 1998

The Godrays, Songs for TV Stars, LP, Vernon Yard Records, 1996; The Bed Spins, 7", Vernon Yard Recordings, 1996; Excuse Me, Do You Know What Time It Is?, split 7" with Rodeo Boy, Sit n' Spin Records, 1997; "Songs for TV Stars," "Crummy," "No Arms Are Good for Holding," and "Film Music #2," double 7", Vernon Yard Recordings; "Well-Composed Death Notice," 7", various artists, Wormco Records, 1997; Well-Composed Death Notice, EP, Sit n' Spin Records, 1998;

Purple Ivy Shadows, Whoever's South is Northern Also, LP, Dark Beloved Cloud Records, 1997

small factory, I Do Not Love You, LP, Spin Art Records, 1993; For If You Cannot Fly, LP, Vernon Yard Recordings, 1994; The Industrial Revolution, LP, Pop Narcotic Records, retrospective from 1991-1994; "The Last Time That We Talked" and "Movies," Vernon Yard Recordings, 1994; "Guitar Girl" on A Bitter Pill to Swallow (LP, various artists), Over the Counter Records, 1994

Creep Factory, "Johnny Creeper Called Me Late Last Night" on Rocktober Fest (7", various artists), Rocktober Records

I don't remember what first planted the seed in my head, but when I was about eight I decided I wanted a big red drum set. I don't think my mom was too hot on the idea of a lot of banging, but her boyfriend, who was a trumpet player, thought they should embrace my interest in music. So, as a compromise, I wound up with this red wooden drum pad and a book. It was sort of discouraging. Then I was taken to some high-strung jazz drummer acquaintance for a lesson. The guy was off his head and didn't really get any knowledge across to me. So, basically, the thrill was killed. Of course, now I wish I'd stuck with it, but it wasn't until I was 18 that I started again. I do still have the red wooden pad, though, which, when I'm feeling disciplined, does come out.

Right.

My old boyfriend, Jeffrey Underhill, is the person who first taught me to play for real. He had drums set up at his house and I had lost my patience with guitar, so I said, "Will you teach me a beat?" And he did and it just sort of clicked. At first, the idea of having to do different things with each limb seemed like an impossibility, but we just took it one step at a time. And as soon as there was a semblance of a beat, my whole body felt like it was in synch with something really powerful. I guess that sounds cheesy, but it was a pretty incredible feeling. It was a total rush realizing for the first time that there is this crazy natural resource you can tap into.

The first kit I ever bought was a '66 Rogers, pink and champagne horizontal swirl. It looks like ribbon candy, and it's the one that goes to my kids.

An early-'70s Ludwig, blue, white, and black horizontal swirl. My snare is a wooden Gretch, circa 1950s, with white crushed shell covering. Aesthetics!

Rock-n-roll.

Ringo, John Bonham, Jud Ehrbar (Varnaline, Space Needle, etc.). Lately, I've been listening to a lot of Elliott Smith, and I think he's a great drummer. His playing is so well appropriated to his songs. He's got that great Bonham feel -- of holding back on the snare just a hair to draw out the beat and give it a certain swing. He reminds me of Bonham in other ways, too. He's got a similar sense of when not to play, how to wait until you're excitedly anticipating that next height in the song. Also, the frilly bits that he puts in seem simple on the one hand but are sometimes placed in really clever spots or done in really clever ways. I think his drums really help orchestrate the development of his songs.

Vic Firth, 5B, nylon tip, "American Classic."

I've got a trap case for my snare, cymbals and odds and ends, cases for the drums, and a bag for hardware. They're all pretty manageable, weight-wise. I used to be in bands that owned vans for going to shows and going on tours, but lately I've been doing the typical New York gig thing where everyone pretty much loads their own stuff into their own cabs or car services and meets up at the club. It's a strange thing to get used to, though, because loading the van together as a band was so much a part of the process of playing shows for me.

No. It's fun to go check stuff out. It's like being in an expensive candy store.

Sometimes there are parts that I need to dissect and work out separately from the band to get them good and consistent.

My favorite drummer right now is Jud Ehrbar. The qualities I like most about him are similar to what I admire about the rest of my influences. He knows exactly how to drive a song. The amount of swing he puts in, whether it's slightly behind or ahead of the beat, is always compelling, as are the particular beats that he chooses. He's incredibly lyrical with his fills and also overall. When he plays live, you can see in his face and his body just how much passion and excitement pour out into the drums. Every time I've seen him play he's looked like a little kid having the time of his life, and you can't beat that.

The drummer's role -- that's a big question. As a drummer, you've got to be in touch with the spirit of the song. You've got to be able to help define the feel of it, the swing, the volume, the amount of space or lack of space that it needs. You've got to appropriate accordingly and be as subtle or as blatant as the song requires you to be. Drums and cymbals can be incredibly melodic in their own right, so it's important to try and utilize them in that way. I think the drums should have as much personality as any other instrument a band has. But, most importantly, you've got to work well with the other instruments to create a cohesive language together.

Every person I've played with has been different from the next. For me, it's the chemistry and the personality of a person that differentiates them, not their gender. I think a lot of people assume that women, as musicians, are going to have some automatically "feminine" approach to music. But how do you define feminine? When you think about what those qualities actually are, you start to realize that there are plenty of men who have those same qualities. So then it comes back to personality. In that way, music is able to be genderless. On the other hand, it's still encouraging to me that there are women who are really able to embrace the idea of being a woman through music. Music that pronounces the difference can be really powerful. I have to say it's also really inspiring to be able to play with kick-ass women musicians.

I've certainly had to respond to lots of ignorant comments about being a girl drummer, but I can't think of a particularly witty example right now. A lot of people think I look too small to play drums, but as the men will most often agree, size isn't everything!

I guess it depends on who it is, if I know them or not, but I'll accept help if I need it. I think I worry more about putting other people out.

I guess it's been a little of both. I think there's an inherent Catch-22 to being a female musician. Initially, people seem to take extra notice when there's a woman playing drums -- I know I do. It's still somewhat intriguing to watch a woman drive a band in that way. It's that automatic attention, though, that allows things to get a little tricky. I used to wonder if I was judged more or less harshly due to the fact that I was a woman: Is she good for a girl, or is she good, period? Sometimes you feel like you're put under a microscope for that reason and that you really have to prove yourself as a good drummer. If anything, though, that's made me want to work harder, and that's not such a bad thing. Ultimately, if you're delivering the musical goods, that's what becomes the focus and that's where the strength lies -- and in my experience, that's never been a hindrance.

A few years ago, I temporarily fucked up my kick-drum knee skiing, and we had to cancel a two-week tour.

I knew from the start that it was something worth pursuing, but I guess it wasn't until small factory that I thought, Hey, I'm ready to dive head-on into making it a serious priority. I think that was partly because I also really believed in the band and knew that the people I was playing with (Alex Kemp and Dave Auchenbach) felt the same way. I think it was that support system that really did it. Being in that situation gave me the confidence to work hard and take risks.

It was about a year, give or take a few months.

Not much. I was a drum-lesson dropout.

I've got a few day jobs: waitressing, working at a record store, and doing voiceovers. I'm going to be the voice of a character named Serena on an animated show called "Downtown" coming out in May 1999 on MTV (shameless self-promotion there).

My favorite resource is going out to see other drummers play and talking to them, and listening to recordings. As far as techie stuff goes, it's always fun to check out stuff at stores. The Modern Drum Shop here in NY (149 W. 46th St., 2nd Floor) is a tiny but cool place that has used equipment, and they do a lot of building and repairing. Nodar, the guy that runs it, is always nice and drops some knowledge.

I wish I could remember something specific. The only one that stands out in my brain right now is a comment a woman made to me and my then boyfriend/bandmate after a show at the Knitting Factory. She said something to the effect of, If she can play drums like that she must be great in bed. I think I blushed. It was funny. I don't remember specific compliments so much as I remember specific musicians I admire or whose opinions I respect complimenting my drumming.

I aspire to make my living as a drummer so that I have more time to play so I can continue to get better.

One negative experience I had was playing a show with small factory the day I had a wisdom tooth pulled. I decided that I would try to sing, but by the end of the song I realized that my mouth was full of blood. It would have been great if I was playing with Ozzy, but it was a far cry from that. All in all, it wasn't that bad. What's bad is when you're playing music that you don't really believe in. It eats away at what makes you happy about playing. As far as a positive experience, there are so many. Playing live is such a kick. Some of my favorite drumming experiences have been playing really tiny basement parties where everybody is squished up close to each other and you can feel the excitement literally bouncing from the band to the audience and then from the audience back to the band. It becomes this crazy reciprocal frenzy where everybody just feeds off each other's excitement.

It seems hard to imagine that I wouldn't have pursued music in some way, but it was the drums that really hooked me in, so who knows. I think I would have continued to do photography as a creative outlet.

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