Bio

The Bio

Ah yes, the dreaded biography page that every musician loves to write. Like many, I've always concentrated on the musicianship first and the salesmanship second, figuring that the performance would sell itself. Nope! People are fascinated by other people and that will perhaps never change. I don't mind, really. There's nothing out of the ordinary to my musical story, but I've had some quite interesting adventures created along the way (mostly due to a one Montgomery Lee Conner!). WARNING!! My bio is rather lengthy at around 3,500 words. I like to write, what can I say?

The short story is that I've been at this for around 40 years now professionally as a player (er, I mean "hard worker"!), live and recording engineer, producer, instructor, marketer and a retailer (retired), played all over the southeast for as many as 5,000 people and for as few as zero. I have a Management BA from USF, am a commercial author with three published novels, Dust ©2009, Bolita ©2011 and To Dust ©2022, with another several novels in the pipe. My musical education is about half/half self-taught and formal instruction with the likes of Chester Thompson, Dom Famularo, Vinnie Colaiuta, Kenny Aronoff and a few others. Some say I sound something like Gary Husband meets Colaiuta meets Jon Bonham meets Stewart Copeland. I know better than that. Take a listen in the Audio section and judge for yourself! That's it, nothing too special. So, if you feel like taking a little time to have a read on the musical life of Todd N. Taylor, scroll on!

The Formative Years

And so it began...playing trumpet in 7th grade for the North Hall Middle School Concert Band in Gainesville, Georgia. Actually, back then there wasn't a separate middle school complex, it was just called North Hall High and our beloved band director at the time, Larry Sims (BLOW, Goddamnit!!), had everyone on his shoulders from grades 7-12. I was still considered new in town having moved from Tampa the year before. Friends were hard to come by, especially since I didn’t have the regional accent down yet. It was through the school band that I met a lifelong friend and trumpet blaster, now AstroGenius and Pool Shark, named Robert Mohr. I have to credit this guy for reintroducing me to music.

My taste for music before middle school was more incidental. If there was something on the radio that was cool and catchy, I liked it, but I never really paid much attention to the details nor tried to figure anything out on trumpet. I remember liking everything from Led Zeppelin to Linda Ronstadt (those wonderful eyes!).

One thing was for sure though, trumpet wasn’t as cool as the drums. Those guys were always the popular ones in the school's band. It wasn’t because of this that I became a drummer, but it opened my eyes to the concept. Robert and I were bigtime into video games. This was around 1980. Pacman, Galaga, Defender, and Robotron had just about every kid in the game rooms tapping away for hours. And, tap I did – non-stop for up to 10-12 hours at a time. It was a true addiction and Robert and I were hooked. If anything, I knew I could tap for a long time and fast. There is also the coordination involved … different limbs, interaction with musical timing and other variables. If anything, those games were a foundation leading to the crossover into percussion. Take that, parents!

Robert was further down the road in musical maturity than I, having taken piano lessons for many years before being in the band. He knew that I started liking the drums, so he pulled out a record of a band he knew that had a great drummer. If you took a guess who could possibly be THE most influential drummer (please notice that I didn’t say “best” or “chop master”) after Buddy Rich, you probably said Neil Peart. Yup, Robert spun his copy of Moving Pictures and that was that. I must have listened to that song a hundred times straight. There were others, Alex Van Halen was popular at the time too, and I had heard of the truly great drummers that proceeded them - Rich, Cobham, Roach, Tony Williams, etc. Regardless, it wasn’t long before I started to look at drum catalogs and formulate my evil plan to take over the parent’s basement. Somewhere a little after turning 15, the folks negotiated a deal that if I got a job and could make the payments, they would front their signatures for a loan. A loan? Uh-oh. Responsibility hit me in the face right there, but I had to have those drums.

We took a trip down to Atlanta’s largest retailer at the time, Rhythm City. Fate would have it that we dealt directly with it’s infamous owner, George Luther. After looking around and seeing the prices, it was over my head. Thousands of dollars for a 15 year old in the early 1980s? Impossible. Not for George. As notorious as he is purported to be, he personally got me into my first drum set. And what a nice one it was! I was a fan of Phil Collins at the time (still am!), so I ended up with a NINE piece set of Slingerlands in chrome, and four Zildjian A line cymbals. I’m in business! My parents, on the other hand, were mourning the day the house would forever stop being quiet. It took many hours slaving away at the local Captain D’s to pay for that kit, many of which were long forgotten as soon as I took my place on the throne.

Being a teenager and just starting out, I was a good bit behind the other guys who had been playing since sixth grade. I regretfully left my friends in the concert band to go into the “gifted” program at school so I could hang out with Robert and some other geeky cool people. I practiced constantly and quickly caught up enough to actually play some rock songs correctly. Being self-taught had it’s drawbacks, however.

I wasn’t progressing as fast as I felt I could. I’d heard about a drums-only shop over in Smyna called Atlanta Pro Percussion, so that meant a trip to see what’s up. Plenty! What a magical place. Drums everywhere and nothing but drummers running the place. Heaven! Like any kid in the candy store, it was not long before my old Slingerlands lost their luster. The concert tom sound was becoming outdated. Peart was in full fashion, and I wanted to be able to play that kind of music. New set, new job. This time, working for my new brother in-law as a masonry laborer. Tough work. The reward was a 1984 cherry red, double bass, 8-piece set of Tama Royalstars, with an Imperialstar snare (the one I use today). After adding a set of Rototoms, I had it – Neil’s kit! The thing was, as much as I tried, I could not play quite like Neil. I could do plenty of other rock songs by Kansas, Styx, The Police and a few others, but not Rush. This is where I discovered the many clinics that Atlanta Pro sponsored. Over the next few years, I would take clinics by Chester Thompson, Vinnie Colaiuta, Kenny Aronoff, Tommy Aldridge, Rod Morganstein, and Master Instructor – Dom Famularo (a few times and privately). There were some spot lessons at the local colleges, but I remained mostly self-instructed. Once I knew the books most instructors were using, reading and interpretation were not a problem. On occasion, I would check with an instructor or colleague to make sure my playing was correct.

Being the semi-rural area that Gainesville was, there weren’t many drummers around after high school. It was in my senior year that I was first approached to do a gig with Steve Schumacher, Dave Radcliff, and dear old friend named Geoff Logsdon. It was a private party and that band just fired their drummer (at least for that evening). I practiced a few songs and ended up playing to the dozen or so people that staggered in from their drunken brouhaha a few rooms away. There was no pay, but it was fun. I ended up not playing with them again, losing an audition to an eventual drummer friend named Jay Taylor. If anything, my name was out there and if I kept practicing, maybe someone would look me up. A few weeks later, I was approached by a couple of guys named Chris Bennett and Monty Conner to join a cover band they were working on to play around town. They came over, saw the kit, heard me play and that was it – hired! They introduced me to their singer, Scott Adams, and we started practicing regularly…sometimes at my parents home, much to their enjoyment. I can’t remember if it was Monty or Chris or both that were in the local theater one night, but that’s how they found Brad Rogers (Bradford!). Somehow they got a conversation going and we now had an awesome keyboardist. The band played some small dates and was a regular at the local teen club before breaking up. Bradford found some of my old friends who were playing more challenging music and off he went. Even though the band (The Extreme – no, not that one) was short-lived, the friendships would last forever. We all still play!

A Professional Start

After The Extreme, I took the time to get better chops. More drum clinics and instruction. More rehearsing – sometimes up to 10 hours in a day. My sister Terry had some friends in a pro band called T.K.O. and took me over to one of their rehearsals. I was 19 and these guys were in their mid-20s, so I felt out of place. They were supportive though, offering me advice and such. It was there that I would make more friends in Larry Vandiver and David Currans. It wasn’t long before they had me try out for their band, but I just wasn’t ready. I think my china was way loud for them on Abacab too! Even so, I found more friends in a band that was rehearsing behind them in some shack off Main St. in Gainesville. This band had my old band mate, Chris Bennett and was led by Melvin Banks (you been Melvinized!). They had a steady drummer and where doing more pop stuff, but were getting booked all over the south. I ended up learning some basic engineering and going on the road with those guys, filling in when their drummer couldn’t make it. With each new band came more new friends. That time, it was Melvin, and the Fabulous Leo Brothers – Kerry and Kyle (both used to live in my old neighborhood … small world!). It was getting time for new drums again and Monty Conner had taken me off to try my luck at a metal band with singer John Bond, and guitarists Donny Anderson and Joel Kosche (eventually played for Collective Soul). Along the way were some crazy stories with Monty. Imagine climbing in my old VW van, filling it full of instruments and a small generator, driving way too fast and playing one song only -- Balls to the Wall by Accept -- and then stealing a the driver's dad’s BBQ catering bus because it had a generator that wouldn’t kill us with fumes, only to be busted by the police when loverboy Monty wanted to visit his sweetie at the local all-girls college.  My old VW van would meet its flaming end in Atlanta with me, Monty and some other poor schlep all dressed up in '80s hair metal garb and in the gayest part of town. Flaming indeed! You can read all about the Tragic Bus HERE. Anyway, the new kit was a nine-piece double bass flaming red Peal kit with a full Tama cage system. With my flowing long hair and my way-too-big kit, I could open up for Ratt and no one would blink. After dozens of rehearsals and a big lack of direction, my musical career came to a halt when I got into a wreck, breaking my right foot in eight places. When I finally made it back to rehearsals, it wasn’t the same. I could still play well, but the vibe wasn’t there in that band. I played briefly for another band that the Fabulous Leo Brothers had put together with old friend Chris Bennett called The Suspects, but left again for the metal … which didn’t work out. I was interested in other pursuits like flying and nobody was calling for music, so I took an involuntary hiatus that lasted two years.

Jumping Back In

When all is said and done, I thank Ted Tuck for getting me back involved with music. For the two previous years, I was experimenting with different careers. I was still into the amusement games industry and started a vending company that eventually evolved into owning a pool hall (Bulldogs!). After that fizzled, I got into flying small planes, hoping I could go commercial at some point. When my instructor relayed how actually difficult that was (he wanted the same, had thousands of hours, but not the desired political and military connections) whether falsely or reluctantly, I decided my chances were nil. Regardless, I wanted to keep going and finish the training for licensure, which I did. While this is ongoing, I get a call from Ted (whom I’d met earlier from the teen club days) practically begging me to give his new original music project a listen. I wasn’t interested. He called again. Being an entertainer at heart, I had to see what this guy was up to, seeing how he’d been to Berklee and all. He brought me in to jam to a few of his tunes and introduced me to a singer named Andrea Hooker and a bassist named Randy Chester.

Those guys could play, and it was some cool progressive-something music that didn't check any one genre box. I said yes and became the drummer for Die A Tribe. Getting involved with a heavy project like that meant getting fully sucked back into the business. Ted was a teacher at a small local store in Gainesville and he introduced me to its crew. Being that I knew a couple of the guys there -- the Fabulous Leo Brothers! Pro Music felt comfortable. Their fine drum instructor, Jolene, was on the way out (and I don't think she knew it, which made it quite awkward), so I was offered a position. A slow start at first became a full time teaching occupation and eventually landed me into sales. I was in all right – right up to my eyeballs.

In the Biz

Die A Tribe ended up being an off-and-on project over the next six years. Randy moved on and so did Andrea. Ted and I had a hard time finding replacements, so other projects came and went. Eventually we found some, cut an album, got internationally reviewed, and toured locally, but stresses were too much. It was a demanding project, and musically, the rewards may never be equaled. Still, bands always have the side-effect of making great friends. With Die A Tribe, I found Ginny Simmons and eventual golf and mountain biking pal, Jonathan Peek. Eventually, Ted and an old band mate who's not old, Scott Adams, started up a cover band call Captain Luther Howdy and Out Damn Spot. Their first couple of gigs were successful as an acoustic act, but more was needed. I got the call, and another old friend, Dave Currans, joined in. For a few years we played around locally as a favorite under the name of Captain Luther Howdy and the Prozac Cowboys. It was a fun band playing everything from David Bowie to the Village People to TV tunes to Frank Zappa. Luther had good chemistry and we played everywhere. Like all things, other pursuits would bring my eventual end with the Cowboys.

They still play occasionally. After many lineup changes, Scott has managed to keep them alive with Fabulous Leo Brother Kerry, Chris Bennett and one of Gainesville’s best drummers, Gene Joy. Ted Tuck would make more appearances, and other fabulous drummers Aaron Hughes and Mike Terrell also Cowboyed. The band remains a Gainesville legend.

Oops, almost forgot. This was supposed to be about ME, right? Okay ... Later on, my teaching career had gone more to a sales career out of necessity. Pro Music changed locations to a much bigger 23,000ft and some of its staff departed.

Eventually, I would make a successful bid for General Manager and start an internet side business called #1 Music Supply. There were other pursuits. In 1994, I had gotten into engineering heavily and decided to open up my own studio called The Cantina (named after the bar at Mos Eisley in Star Wars, but without all the scum and villainy). Starting with a 16-track Fostex ½” machine and an Allen & Heath console bought from a coworker and friend named Alan Kelley of Krazy Al’s Mega Music. Cantina eventually ended up being a 24-track ADAT and Mackie 32.8 facility with Lexicon outboard. It was fun recording everything from gospel to South African jazz to rap/hop, metal, traditional Mexican and even some foley work (my favorite). Due to financial concerns and career moves, The Cantina closed in 1998. 

On occasion, I do miss that work and all the friends I made in all the bands like David Cantrell, the Carroll brothers and Ron Pirkle, to name a very few. It was through those folks and Jonathan Peek that I would come to meet and play with guitarist Derek Worth. I made two-year run, playing jazz standards and party dance hits at countless events statewide under the names of The Derek Worth Group and Anonymous Groove.

During that time I had short love affair with drum building. Through a mutual appreciation with co-drum geek Aaron Hughes, I started recovering some old Tamas. The fascination led to my last kit, the one you see in the pictures. After all the hard work, I got over the fascination quickly. Aaron, however, ended up starting a drum company called "AHA Drums" and opened his own drum shop! It wasn’t long after that a major career upheaval took place.

End of an Era

Just after the turn of the century, the owner of Pro Music decided he’d had enough of being a non-profit tax write-off. In mid-2000 he decided to try and sell the store. After being unsuccessful, he decided he was getting out by next Spring, leaving the rest of us to scramble. I decided to take my internet business with me (which was suppressed under his ownership), my good business name and what friendly contacts I had to make a go of it on my own. Long story short, it was unsuccessful. I couldn't conjure the cash needed for a realistic beginning inventory plan. At the same time, I lost good friends over what was apparently competing agendas. Literally, I became the competition ... the enemy. To wrap this, Ted was the successful successor of Pro Music. (*update...now closed) Maybe it was a blessing in disguise after all that I didn’t take the high dive. Rocks below. With today's dealership pricing minimums, aka MAP policies, and online coding needs, it would be a tough biz (biggest-box retailers aside!) With all ties cut and nothing musically going on, it was time for a real change. There were a few gigs played in that downtime, most notably with old friend and E-Lit® CEO Bradford Rogers and another crazy man, Billy Wilke, for the Blind Venetians.

Back to Tampa

At the beginning of 2003, I packed up on a shoestring and moved back to Florida. Being tired of the long, cold, rainy winters of North Georgia, Florida was a welcome change. Wouldn't you know it? On the first day back, I hit the lotto for $6K. Welcome Home! I wanted to be in the Naples/Ft. Myers area. Gorgeous paradise, but I eventually ended up back in Tampa. Stranger still, after finding and marrying my wonderful wife, Maria, back to only a few blocks from where I spent the first few years of my life.  Weird ... and probably begging a question from just about everyone, but I swear it was completely unintentional!

Tampa was a tougher town to get re-networked though; there are quite a few seriously great players here, but holy shit! – a LOT of whackjobs from up north that came here to musically die! (the "God's Waiting Room" maxim applies to musicians as well?)  Still, I’ve managed to find some friends through bands like El Camino, Motel Funk, 9 Miles Out, and several others. So many trial and errors (such is the biz, right?) led me to a logical result derived from the time-proven adage, "Want something done right?  Do it yourself!"  And so became the mighty Bay Players Club, a 10-piece all-out dance event band complete with a full horn section and Latin percussion.  I'm in HEAVEN!

Wait ... scratch that.  I was.  Two years later, heaven became purgatory.  Managing that megacruiser was quite a task: Personnel, arrangements, set lists, SET LISTS!, wedding programs, website programming, graphics, consultations, and oy! ... clients.  Jesus, what did I get myself into?  It became a burden that led me to the bigger picture.  All in fun, no complaints!  The band kicked regular ass, and I've no regrets ... more friends made, more connections.  Problem was, it just wasn't me.

That bigger picture?  I miss progressive ... and I miss engineering.  Creating—ART. Then another thing happened. Writing. This would take another thousand words or so on a tangential subject. See my author's site if interested.

It dawned on me recently; I've been back in Tampa for 20+ years now. Twenty years! In that time I also completed three novels, dabbled in forensic 3D animation, and also some audio engineering at "Cantina Minor". As of this update, I am in the looking at novel #4 while waiting patiently for the next musical challenge.
Onward!


My Influences?

What They Created...

At first, it occurred to me that I’ve probably lifted a chop or two from just about everybody, but I suppose that would be about the most boring cop-out ever. It’s true, though. There are literally hundreds of drumming greats that inspired me at one time or another, yet I suppose that it was just a select few who emancipated my identity. Besides, who can resist a little name dropping?

I mentioned a few drummers in the formative years that weighed heavily in my algorhythm; there are quite a bit more, however. Revisiting that list, one of the most memorable is Dom Famularo. He shuffled through the doors of Atlanta Pro Percussion on a regular basis and, also on a regular basis, wowed us. A simple jingle man he was not. What did I take away? Seating position, precision, presentation, history, a true love for the art, a passion for learning, and not taking one’s self too seriously. He also leveled egos quite efficiently. His best line? I once worked for a construction contractor who played at his local church. He was a proud drummer that had an issue with Dom’s advice to sit lower for better balance on the double pedals. When the contractor complained that if he sat that low, the congregation couldn’t see him play, Dom just smiled and cracked, “If your playing sucks, what makes you think you’ll want to be seen?” That was Dom in a nutshell. I only attended three of his clinics and talked shop with him on just a few short occasions, but he had the greatest influence on my drumming attitude.

Other clinics/classes attended back in the ‘80s include: Chester Thompson, Vinnie Colaiuta, Rod Morganstein, Tommy Aldridge, Kenny Aronoff, and a few others I just can’t quite remember. They were all indescribably fabulous, and I gleaned mountains of information that I still struggle to digest. Yet, they weren't the first to grab my ears on a regular basis.

You’d be hard-pressed to find a drummer today that hasn’t been inspired in some way by The Professor, the nickname of Rush’s Neil Peart. The music, those fills, the writing, the solos, the showmanship. In the '80s, all the other drummers hated him. All the other drummers, of course, secretly loved him. He doesn’t have the fastest hands or the fastest feet. He doesn’t flash the most incredible chops or pontificate a master genre. He is not the “best drummer” because there’s no such thing. But he is the best at the most important aspect of the art, and that is the respect of it. That is why, I think, he has probably inspired more young drummers to reach into their dreams more than any other. Isn’t that what a professor is supposed to do? The funny thing is, I never actually took the time to fully learn a Rush song. None. Weird, right?  For me it's probably similar to uncapping a fountain pen in front of the US Constitution. Read it, but leave it alone...

Phil Collins, anyone? Toms, toms, and more toms! He is another of the first to catch my attention. In fact, my first drum set was modeled after his. Comparable to Neil Peart, Phil is another total package drummer—not overstated, and writes perfect music for the instrument. Oh, geez—he sings and gets Grammys too. That’s all good and everything, but give me the fill from "In The Air Tonight."

I mentioned Rod Morganstein. I didn't realize it until I took the time a few years ago, to go back and give a serious listen to all those old Dixie Dregs and Steve Morse albums. Rod influenced me more than I previously gave him credit. The southern-fried jazz progressive to Celtic, to just good 'ole experimental fun. And double-bass force majeure!

Stewart Copeland. I’ll freely admit that most of my ride bell and hi-hat goofiness is the direct result of countless hours spinning Police records. Fun, fun, fun; I love it! All right, I should probably give some of that credit to Colaiuta as well, but Stewart got there firstest with the mostest. Have to mention his snare too. Instantly recognizable. The crack of the rim. SWACK!

And then there’s John Bonham. Smashin’ feel, that funky little double tap on his Speed King, and oh the tastiest of shuffles. Well, it’s not hard to be awesome with Led Zeppelin in front of you, but I happen to think it’s the other way around. Call it bias if you like. I couldn’t play rock at all if it wasn’t for him.

I’d say if I kept my early influences to just four names, those above probably had the largest impact. There were more, of course. Alex Van Halen, Bill Bruford (open snare!), Billy Cobham, Nicko McBrain, Dave Abruzesse, Peter Erskine (I’m just pulling these off the top of my head), Dave Garibaldi, and going way back, Buddy Rich (the drummer’s drummer), Louie Bellson, Mitch Mitchell, Zigaboo Modeliste, Ginger Baker, Steve Gadd, Roger Taylor, Jeff Pocaro, Terry Bozzio, Steve Smith, stone solid Martin Chambers, and yes, even Tommy Lee, Charlie Watts, and Larry Mullen, Jr. You didn’t have to possess a technical mastery to enter my catalog. I also listened for the musical fit—the writing, the feel, and being a team player.

Later on, I gravitated towards music that musicians go broke playing—progressive, jazz, and fusion. Two drummers that immediately come into mind that play a big part in my raw, improvised feel are Tony Williams and Gary Husband. I love the way they always went for it without holding back. They didn’t care if they made mistakes either, but their mistakes were often brilliant. Dave Weckl’s mastery also stands out. The guy’s a machine! (but one of those that came with an emotion chip) Paul Wertico from Pat Metheny, Alex Acuna, shufflin' Bernard Purdie, Marvin “Smitty” Smith. And then there’s Chad Wackerman—another cassette playhead ruined by the friction of his tapes. Sting and Peter Gabriel’s stickmen did the same. Omar Hakim, Manu Katché, and of course, Vinnie.

The last drummers that belong on the list are Dennis Chambers and his blistering singles, Trilok Gurtu for removing any notion of this thing called time, and a lesser-known star from the Atlanta (now North Carolina?) area named Jeff Sipe (Apartment Q258)—the improv master and commander. Mesmerizing.

That’s about it, I think. There are probably a dozen or so more that I could have listed, and probably should have. Thing is, most are drummers that came to popularity about the same time most of my drumming personality cured, and I hear many of the same influences in their playing. Carter Beauford, Ben Perowsky, Mike Portnoy, and Teddy Campbell are prime examples and a few of my favorites from the last 25 years, but there are so many more.  Love Nick D'Virgilio!  Marco Minneman and Mike Mangini are also outrageously good players. 

Well, there they are … at least the ones I can remember.

Oh! … After researching a few other drummer’s websites to see how they were purveying their mentors, many listed musicians of the non-drumming variety as part of their influences. I have to draw a line there for a couple of reasons. While a great many of them inspired me to play a certain way, they did not teach me a percussive art—at least, not in the traditional sense. As well, that list would be exhaustive. Think of the drummers above and then think of the groups in which they played. My head just exploded.

Ciao!

~T