The Drummers - A Tribute to My 1st Brother in Rhythm, Van Joncox

 Van and I shared the role of “the drummer” in high school, which was normally reserved for the Alpha drummer, but I was a rocker and knocked stuff over and made children cry with my style, and Van was a real technician, well practiced and precise, something I always envied him for. Style-wise, I was John Bonham, and Van was Bill Bruford, and we were both happy to carry the unofficial torch together. We understood and accepted our respective roles in the musical world and there was not one competitive bone in our bodies toward each other. But one day after school, and those 2 worlds collided when the Jazz Band was rehearsing.

Of course, Van was the full time drummer for the Jazz Band as Mr. Head, our lovable musical director and teacher, was well aware of my rock-star sensibilities and he knew that I was ill-equipped for the job and frankly, uninterested, what with all the sheet music and such. But jazz band was right in Van’s wheelhouse. I stopped by on my way out that night to watch and listen from back stage, right behind where Van was playing. They were putting the finishing touches on the Jazz version of Theme from 2001 A Space Odyssey, a popular song on the radio those days, and they were sounding great. Suddenly, someone from he office came in and said “Van, your father is on the phone and he needs to talk to you.” So Van jumps up, and with Mr. Head’s permission, hands ME the sticks and runs out.

So I was standing there, and the band was standing there, when Pete Stoynich, the designated ‘school bassist’, said, “Hey, let Shannon sit in!” and the band was like ‘yeah yeah yeah!’ Then everyone looked a Mr. Head and he was staring lasers through my head. Mr. Head knew I was a ‘player’ but he also knew I was undisciplined and a loose cannon. After about 5 agonizing seconds, he said, “Ok” and I’ll never forget this… “this should be interesting” muttering under his breath. So I jumped on the kit, Mr. Head counted us in, and I took a few measures to find the pocket and started to groove with Pete on bass. I knew the song from the radio so sheet music was not needed as I started to FEEL it. The song swelled, the horns kicked in, I got charged up and of course, the drums got louder and the cymbals were splashing, Pete was groovin’, the horn section was dancing, the band was COOKIN! After a few minutes of this, the back stage door opens and Van walks back in to see me playing and that classic Van-Smile spread across his face crooked teeth and all. He stood there and rocked along with me and so I got bolder and started throwing in rock-star fills while Van audibly cheered me on with every one I landed.

At the completion of the song, Van runs over and high five’s me, everyone was giddy, we just KILLED it! But then, all eyes turned to Mr. Head… who started blankly at me and finally, after 5 more agonizing seconds, he quietly said, “get out!” The WHOLE BAND burst into laughter, Van embraced me as I left and simply said “awesome!” and I walked out a hero.

Van could have been a dick in that situation, and 98% of all musicians probably would have been - especially teen age ones in the highbrow world of ‘jazz band’… but Van… he was a friend first, and a musician second and completely embraced that most unique moment that I reap the rewards of to this day with its recounting here. I’ve missed that dude since those days, and miss him now, even more so. RIP my very first rhythmic brother! I hope you find the pocket on the other side.