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The mid and late ‘80s were full of such clinics: Chester
Thompson, Vinnie Colaiuta, Rod Morgenstein, Tommy Aldridge … I made the
75-minute trip at every opportunity, even if I didn’t know the drummer. Hey,
if he’s doing a clinic at Atlanta Pro, he must be pretty good, right? I
just happened to catch Dom after a couple of those clinics. The guys at Atlanta Pro Percussion (APP) talked about him and his crazy fast feet. I was really into that at the time,
so I made a point to be there and ask questions when that time came.
Dom ran a clinic like no other. Yeah, sure, they all start and end with a solo,
but Dom explained everything in the technique, including his encyclopedic
referencing to where it all emanated. No term for a chop’s etymology, so … hmm …
maybe invent a word for it? Anyway, Dom also spent one-on-one time with anyone
who queued after the clinic. Signed photos and picture ops (we didn’t call them
selfies back then – someone else took the photo). Kinda regret it now, but I was
never queued for the photo after the first. I was more interested in a couple
quick pointers and a shake of his hand. That was quite enough.
I saw Dom another four times after that first round. Always insightful. He wasn’t
always alone either. Kenny Aronoff joined for one of those. As fantastic as Kenny
was, and generous to teach us his famous Jack and Diane fill, Dom … umm …
dominated. (couldn’t help it, sorry). Another clinic coincided with Buddy Rich’s
passing. APP received the news as it happened. We were
all pretty bummed, you can imagine. It was BUDDY, every drummer’s #1.
Nonetheless, there was a clinic to do. I don’t believe anyone else could have
crafted a tribute solo on the fly. I’ll never forget the opening heartbeat on
kick drum, and the fury of Buddy-esque chops that would ensue. He left the
store floored. Moreso than any other time.
Dom always encouraged his students and exuded positive vibes. Sounds all
California hippie surfer, I know, yet was more professorial in demeanor—maybe
the nun with a ruler at times, yet quick to overcome anyone’s personal barriers.
Egos had NO place in his court. Dom was the destroyer of arrogance. And this
leads me to my most-repeated anecdote.
To set the scene, maybe the third or fourth clinic I attended at APP was with a
work acquaintance and new drumming buddy. He was a gospel player at his local
church, could afford the best equipment, and was genuinely interested in
progressing as a player. He was also interested in double-bass playing, so I
put him onto Dom Famularo’s upcoming clinic. Now, to dress the set further, you
must know that Dom is from New York, and he has the cutting, dry accent and
dialect to go with it. Curt by necessity. In contrast, the gospel player grew
up locally in north Georgia, although his drawl was not as slow as most in the
area — quite uptempo, in fact — it was still quite prevalent. For fastest double
bass playing, Dom always instructed to sit low for best balance, and keep the
thighs level. I do this, and yes, it works best for me. My friend had a problem
however.
“Dom, I appreciate your advice to sit low, but if I do that, I can’t be seen by
the congregation.”
Dom smirked while autographing promo photo. He pushed his glasses
back to the top of his nose while handing it over and coldly quipped, “If
your playing sucks, what makes you think you’d want to be seen?”
Crow consumed.
Drumming’s Global Ambassador — a title he would eventually earn after decades of
clinics, camps, and other events across Europe, Central and South America, Africa,
and several Asian countries — crossed paths with tens of thousands of drummers.
I don’t recall my exact amount, but I know of at least two more. One was yet
another Atlanta Pro Clinic, this time with a guitarist friend, shreddin’ Ted Tuck.
Dom was not only packing the room with drummers, but also players of other
instruments! They too were curious of his insights and technique … how they might
apply it within their own domains, as well as to better understand their
counterparts. Of course, Ted, being the kidder he is, answered pan flute when
Dom ask if there were other instrumentalists in the room and what they played.
And, true to Dom’s character, he was not distracted by it. Dry NY Dom. “That’s
nice,” and moved on with the lecture.
My last rendezvous with the Great and Fabulous Famularo was
in the late ‘90s at a Nashville NAMM show. Ted was there, too. We had talked
with many greats that day. Shaking Danny Gatton’s hand is a painful, yet fond
memory. He would be dead two weeks later. It was also the last time we saw Allan
Holdsworth, who would join our little group for a beer at bar off the side of
the convention center. Super down-to-earth guy who always took time for his
fans. Then, at some point that day when we’re out on the floor checking out the
latest gear, or perhaps someone playing at a booth, Dom speeds by looking every
bit the part of a university professor. To be sure, the man kept a fast pace!
Two blocks down, I finally caught up with him to shake his hand and attempt to
get a simple question in. “What’s your book recommendation for developing
freedom with odd time and playing over the click (while not losing it). He
stopped, shook my hand, gave pointers on how to hear it without fully focusing
on it, but also — surprise! — published his own book out on odd time signatures. I of
course ordered it as soon as I returned home, and while it didn’t work as
intended, it accomplished its goal of teaching freedom. The quick of that
being: After checking out these crazy time signatures were simply divisions of
the clock, you quickly learn the feel of them, i.e. how to fit any number of
strokes within any given number of clicks at any tempo set. Sounds complicated,
yet it isn’t. You can count it, or you can feel it and know. I think the point
is to develop the feel so you don’t have to count, or even think; it’s
automatic.
Thanks Again, Dom.
Like many, the internet soon replaced the need for in-person reboots — as useful
as they remain. I was over the star-power draw. NAMM show exposures tends to satisfy
those needs. Celebrity overload! There’s so much incredible technique out there
now, on full display, every stroke broken down for the curious. There’s no end
to it; new content published every second of every day! Dom adapted, even
embracing the tech for wider reach. And soon I was seeing Dom on a daily basis,
a follower from afar and witness to his journey for the better part of 40
years. I share the pain of mourning with tens if not hundreds of thousands of
drummers and other instrumentalists in his untimely passing. He still had much
to share, as new drummers were born every day. They too would know Dom eventually — his
vast knowledge, his cutting wit, his love for the instrument, his empowering
encouragement, and his pure joy in drumming expression. He will live on in his
books, his videos, and best of all the legacy imbued within all of us — his
students. A tough and painful loss, yes, but a life well-lived that won’t ever
be forgotten. In the world of drums, Dom Famularo joins the immortals.
Godspeed,
/T
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