Out of the Blue: Stillness of the drums a sad commentary

First of two parts.

As news of the Full Moon Drum Circle controversy and its imminent demise has spread, I’ve been ruminating on what it is that draws me so devotedly to such an incendiary gathering.

I suppose my love affair with rhythm began in the womb. The boomp-boomp, boomp-boomp affirmation of life itself.

As long as I can remember, the sound of rhythm would overcome me, filling me with an irresistible urge to move. When I was 4 and in Florida, I climbed on stage and was the lead (and only) dancer for a steel drum band.

Comedian Robert Klein famously wrote a song about the phenomena called “I can’t stop my leg.” Not coincidentally, I see many 4-years-olds today with the same affliction when they hear drumming — often with a face that says “hurts so good.”

I got a drum kit at 12 and proceeded to flail away with such abandon that a year later my parents confiscated it and gave me guitar lessons. It didn’t matter. I was hopelessly hooked on the cathartic release and serotonin-packed pleasure of making rhythmic music and would bang away using whatever was handy: utensils, sticks, pots and pans.

By the time I moved to Manhattan, I had a career but was still a percussionist in search of a beat. I would venture down to Washington Square Park to drum with the polyglot of players from Africa, the Caribbean and South America. When I moved to L.A., I sought out the vaunted, cacophonous Venice Beach drum circle.

And when I finally settled in Laguna, I discovered the very pleasing Phat Drum Circle on Sundays at Main Beach. When the founder, Marcus Tucker, moved and disbanded the circle in 2001, there was only one thing left to do: start another one. With a gaggle of friends.

The Elders, as we call ourselves today, are like fossils. But in the short evolution and life span of a drum circle, that’s who we are. From the start we wanted something small — maybe 10 serious players with another 10 enthusiasts.

We decided nighttime, under a full moon, was the right time. This was in the not-so-distant past, when Laguna was a kinder, more tolerant place.

We built an illegal fire on the sand at Fisherman’s Cove, told a few people to come, and a magical experience was born. Intimate, spiritual, beautiful. No neighbors complained. This was when the community allowed storage of all manner of boats on an unused lot — kayaks, windsurfers, catamarans.

Try that today with a single kayak, and the neighbors will call the city and have it hauled away and cut up within hours.

The cove was cool back then, even welcoming. Shout out to “Biscuit Bomber” Bob Mosier, honoree of the year at this year’s Patriot Day Parade and the long-running “Captain of the Cove,” who really set the tone for tolerance and inclusion. Bob took pictures from his window, not to send to code enforcement but to share with his friends.

This was a special gathering from the start. Not only was the drumming tight, but the confluence of sand, stars, surf, fire and moonlight made it metaphysical — spiritual as any church. It was our outdoor cathedral — nature and sound so fiercely profound it humbled and moved you and made you cry with the sheer majesty of it all. And it punctuated with a pulse of collective rhythmic ecstasy that connected you deeply, yet non-verbally, to those around you.

Word spread quickly, and by the third outing, it was so popular that Fisherman’s could no longer support the crowd. So we moved to Aliso Beach, which is safer and more accommodating, with parking, restrooms and legal fire pits.

Something this good couldn’t stay small for long. Nor should it have.

Drumming has the capacity to heal. Extensive studies with cancer, dementia and depression patients show that drumming can strengthen the immune system and lift the spirit. Scientists call it hemispheric synchronization, a transcendent state of consciousness producing simultaneous energy and relaxation. Drummers call it being “in the pocket.” Just ask former City Manager Ken Frank, a drum circle habitue.

Well, so many people have come and spread the word about the delights of hemispheric synchronization that the Full Moon Drum Circle is on the precipice of collapse because, as we all know, freedom to assemble is a basic right, provided the assemblage doesn’t get too large.

On Saturday, I ventured to perhaps the last drum circle to see if anyone paid attention when we proclaimed it over.

BILLY FRIED has a radio show on KX93.5 from 8 to 10 p.m. Thursdays called “Laguna Talks.” He is the chief experience officer of La Vida Laguna and member of the board of Transition Laguna. He can be reached at billy@lavidalaguna.com.