Back to Music: A Liberty DeVitto Story

After my brief foray into politics, I'm back on the music train. Two weeks ago I went to a "friends and family" concert at The Cutting Room (see several previous posts). Thanks to the Genslers, my Dad and I were able to get in to see the New York City Hit Squad, which is comprised of various musicians from the 70s getting together and covering blues tunes.

Most importantly, the drummer for NYCHS is none other than Liberty DeVitto. Liberty drummed with Billy Joel for...oh, I don't know...about 30 YEARS. I first saw him when I was about 7, then a few more times over the next few years, and though I wasn't a drummer then I remembered his setup and used it as a model for my own when the time came. In this way, Liberty really was the most influential drummer for me during my formidable first years of learning.

Let me preface the rest of this story by saying that one of the main reasons I had even wanted to see NYCHS was because it promised a chance to see the man himself up close and personal. As we sat in the lobby of the bar eating dinner, I looked up and who do I see standing across the room? You guessed it...the man himself, up close and personal. I almost shat myself. I felt like a teenage girl from 1998 at a Hanson concert. Or a Backstreet Boys concert. Or a...well, you get the point.

So, I excitedly choked my way through dinner and we made our way into the concert lounge. The show kicked off with a nasty little blues tune, and Liberty was...well...he was...not that great. His 57 year old body seemed to need some time to warm up. At first it was a great shock and disappointment to me. The wind was abruptly sucked out of my sails. I turned to my Dad with a pained look, and he knew what I was thinking.

"He probably just needs some time to warm up," he told me comfortingly.

Maybe, I thought. I kept my mind open. I didn't want to see my first drumming idol torn down before my very eyes. So I waited. And waited. And finally, about five songs into the set, he came out of his shell. It was a New Orleans backbeat groove, and he just started rockin' the shit. I mean he was really all over the place. In a good way.

He kept rockin' for about 2 more hours. The songs were about as old as the guys on stage, but it didn't matter. It really was impressive how well the harmonies worked, and how instantaneously these guys seem to just fit together despite their admitted lack of practice.

After the show was over and we were on our way out, I saw Liberty leave the stage. I had my window of opportunity...my palms were sweating and I let out a meek little yelp that drew some sympathetic laughter from my Dad. And there I stood, facing the first drummer I ever revered.

I put out my hand, and said in one long burst, "Hi, Mr. DeVitto. I'm Jake and IsawyouforthefirsttimewhenIwas7... andwhenIgotmyfirstdrumsetImodelleditafteryours," took a breath, "and it's a real honor to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, Jake. Are you still playing? Do you play out at all?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. DeVitto. I'm in a few bands and we play in the city as often as we can. I usually come here every Monday night for the open jam. You should come sometime!" (The leader of the jam, you may remember, is Richie Cannata, Billy Joel's saxophonist during Liberty's days with the band.)

"Richie's Jam? Yeah, I've been a few times, but not recently. Well, keep practicing!" He left me with a humble smile.

The disappointment of the first few songs was eons behind me as my mouth hung open with disbelief and privilege. I turned again to my Dad, with eyes open as wide as my mouth, and managed to whisper solemnly, "I just met Liberty DeVitto."

Awestruck, I sauntered out of the bar and into the cold New York night.

Frontrunner

Does it make me a frontrunner if I all of a sudden throw my support behind Barack Obama?

Oh...it does?

I don't care.