I Am the Rhythm – Still My Primal Scream
I was young when I started playing drums. It wasn’t just an instrument I hit – it was an outlet. A way to survive, to understand myself, to scream without using my voice. Bill Ward, legendary drummer of Black Sabbath, once said that the drums were his primal scream. When I heard that, I recognized it instantly. That’s exactly how it felt. When life chafed, when anxiety pressed down on my chest, the drums were always there. Not as therapy, but as pure survival.
I grew up as a child of divorce in a Swedish suburb in the 1970s – an era of plastic flooring, silent tension, and cold stairwells. But also a time when rock music reached into every boy’s room. Black Sabbath. Led Zeppelin. Bill Ward. John Bonham. The drums became my way out. My strength. My language. And I wasn’t alone – many of us found hard rock right then and there. It became our escape from reality, our identity, our safety.
And even though I no longer have a drum kit set up in front of me, even though the stages are silent and the snare drum is gone – it hasn’t disappeared.
To this day, rhythm is my primal scream.
I Am a Ludwig Drummer – and It Shows
I’ve always been a Ludwig drummer. Not because it was trendy. Not because someone told me to. But because it sounded right. Felt right. A 26-inch bass drum is not just an instrument – it’s a statement. It’s heard. It’s felt in the chest. It shakes the floor. It says: Here I am. And I mean it.
When I hit it – the world responded. Not with words, but with respect. There was a weight, a space, a body in every beat. And that’s exactly the feeling I still carry with me – even without drums. Wherever I go. Whatever I do. I’m still that guy with the 26-inch boom in his backbone.
Walking in Time – Living in Pulse
I walk in rhythm. Straight and honest. It’s not something I think about – it’s just how I’m built. Every step is like a kick drum beat. Every breath, a hi-hat keeping time. I carry my rhythm like others carry their faith. It’s not a lifestyle – it’s a baseline. A way of being.
People notice it sometimes. How I move, how I pause before I speak, how my energy carries a certain pulse. But they don’t understand why. They don’t hear the drums still playing inside me. But I do. Always. And they’re what carry me forward.
Perfection Is Not Surface – It’s Honesty
I strive for perfection in what I do. But not the kind of perfection that’s sterile and controlled. I’m talking about the kind that comes from presence. From being completely in what you do. From hitting the right beat at the right time – not necessarily because it’s "right" on paper, but because it feels right.
When I take on a task, a project, a conversation – it’s like stepping into a new song. I learn the tempo. I listen to the mood. I don’t act too fast, but not too slow either. I follow the feeling and let it guide me. It’s the same feeling I had behind the drum kit – total immersion. Total respect for the rhythm.
I Speak Like I Drum – With Feeling and Force
My voice still carries the rhythm. I notice it in how I form my sentences, how I shift tempo in conversation, how I let pauses speak as much as the words. I speak like I once drummed – with dynamics, emphasis, feeling. I strike where others might stay silent. I go silent where others might shout.
And I listen. To people. To the world. To the subtext. Because a drummer who doesn’t listen is bound to play out of time.
I listen to understand the rhythm in others.
The Lead Guitarists
In life, I’ve met many lead guitarists. The ones who always want to be in the spotlight, heard the most, seen the loudest. The ones who fill every silence with their own voice, every pause with their ego.
I refuse to play with them.
It’s not about envy or insecurity. It’s about respect. For rhythm. For balance. For what we build together.
When someone doesn’t leave space for the drummer, when they refuse to let me be heard – even when I’m still pounding on my mental drum – then it’s no longer a band. Then it’s just a solo project with extras.
And I won’t play an extra in someone else’s illusion.
A Life Without a Drum Kit – But More Rhythm Than Ever
It’s been a long time since I sat behind a drum kit. But I’ve never left the rhythm. It’s just changed form. Today, it lives in how I structure a project. How I build an idea. How I lead a team. I hear the beat in every meeting, every silence, every conflict waiting for resolution.
I’m still the drummer. Even without sticks in hand.
I may not be heard by everyone – but the rhythm in me is stronger than ever.
And sometimes, when the world feels overwhelming, when I want to scream out loud – I do. But not with my voice. I let my body move in rhythm. I walk. I build. I act. I strike – inside – with force and direction.
That is my primal scream.
It always has been. And it always will be.
By Chris...