Back when I was a kid, every drumming achievement felt monumentally important: I was thrilled when I could teach myself to play along with a particular song by Rush or Missing Persons, especially when it was one I wasn’t able to play just one month earlier. But I was equally disappointed when, at ten years old, I witnessed Stewart Copeland masterfully performing in The Police, and thought to myself, I’ll never be able to do that. Surprisingly, moments like those weren’t completely discouraging. Instead, they fueled my determination (although I must admit, they didn’t make me practice harder—I loved playing, but I never liked practicing).
In 2016, as I began writing extensively, I noticed a clear influence stemming from my newfound interest in reading. For the first time in my life—in my forties—I was devouring books, and I made an effort to stretch beyond the music books that obviously interested me. I tore through Dutch and Norwegian crime thrillers and American westerns, historical fiction and many, many books about race in America. Sometimes I’d read an article or a book that made me think, I could do that. Other times—like at that Police show in 1982—I’d read something that made me feel like I had a ton of work to do.
Hanif Abdurraqib’s A Little Devil In America was one of those books. When it was published in April 2021, I was nearly finished writing my memoir, and I felt great about the work I’d done over the past three-and-a-half years. A Little Devil didn’t make me like my own book any less, but it made me realize on a deeper level that there’s an incredible gift to placing power and emotion on a page. Some of Hanif’s shortest sentences punched me in the gut. Some of his visual descriptions made me laugh out loud. Reading A Little Devil made me painfully aware that I wasn’t nearly as good as I wanted to be.
In early 2020, Hanif and I met via email when he edited a piece I wrote for LEVEL about the Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney song, “Ebony and Ivory.” It was a wonderful process in which he asked difficult questions and pushed me to dig deeper, ultimately making the piece much better than my original draft. I’ve since seen Hanif host an amazing night of music he curated at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, and I’ve listened to both episodes—totaling about 7 hours—of him and Yasi Salek discussing The Cure’s discography on the Bandsplained podcast.
I’m excited about my upcoming conversation with Hanif Abdurraqib on Wednesday December 13 at Two Dollar Radio in his hometown of Columbus, Ohio. I’ve been likening the event to my band opening for Nirvana, but with the added bonus that we’re on at the same time. I hope we get into the real shit, but it’s entirely possible that we’ll just talk about ‘90s rock, which, honestly, sounds like a worthwhile trip.
You can now listen to the My Life in the Sunshine audiobook on Spotify. I wish there was a way to integrate my book-related Spotify playlists with the audiobook… maybe someday.
My memoir My Life in the Sunshine is out now. I’d love it if you picked up a copy at your local independent bookstore. It’s also available at all the big places, and for your Kindle as well. There’s an audiobook that I spent 20 hours of my life reading (it’ll only take 7 hours to listen).
I hope to see you somewhere soon. Upcoming events are always listed here.
Nabil Ayers / Brooklyn