What? Yes! That's right. NJ has climbed atop the drumming heap and now figuratively rubs shoulders with popular music's all-time greats. The kid is a percussion natural:
The Wife bought NJ that drum for her birthday, and after ignoring it for a few weeks she's suddenly taken a big interest in it. And she knows what to do, too -- despite what you see in this particular photo, she knows how to hold the drumsticks and can tap out a rhythm for several beats that's at least as good as anything Dave Grohl ever did. When I start drumming myself (I have the rhythm and swing of your typical middle-aged white-boy doofus, but I have positively nailed the intro to 'Sunday Bloody Sunday') she'll come crawling across the basement, sit next to me and pound the drum with her hand until I turn the sticks over to her.
Where's the rest of my kit?
The list of accomplished female drummers that I'm familiar with is short -- Mo Tucker was adequate with the Velvet Underground, I don't care about the White Stripes enough to care about Meg White, and I suppose Sleater-Kinney had a drummer. The drummers for the Go-Gos and the Bangles have always been known to me as "the drummers for the Go-Gos and Bangles." (I just looked them up, they're Gina Schlock and Debi Peterson.) Karen Carpenter was a pretty solid lady beat-keeper, but Carpenter's music is far too pedestrian for a hep cat like NJ.
For starters, I need a high-hat and some tom-toms, and at least two bass drums. Chimes would be great, too.
Perhaps one day NJ can form a band with her guitar-playing uncle. She's probably as adept at drumming now as he is at picking, so maybe they'd make a nice White Stripes-ish duo. I'll be their manager.
"Set's $@*$!*#& over!" she shouted, before proceeding to violently overturn her drum in a manner that brought a tear to the eye of Keith Moon's ghost.