Gene Hoglan

When I was 11, I was reading an interview with one of my two idols, Peter Criss (Willie Mays being the other), and he was explaining how, when he was a kid, he had told his folks, “I’m gonna be a big rock star and play Madison Square Garden!” And I thought, “Good enough for him, good enough for me.” So I went, ‘Hey Ma and Pa! When I grow up, I’m gonna be an underground thrash metal musician, and play the Target Center in Minneapolis! Plus, I’m gonna play every rathole in the States and Europe for YEARS before I make a living at it.” No wonder my Dad urged, “You might wanna stick to baseball, son. That doesn’t sound like fun. Slayer’s better than you.”

Of course it didn’t go down quite like that (the “Slayer’s better” mantra didn’t come outta my dad til a few years later), but I did announce when I was 11 that I was gonna be a rock dude. And later, when I was 13, I became a sponge on the LA club scene, absorbing every bit of knowledge I could about ‘how to make in the music biz’. I figured, “If this is going to be your plan, your life’s goal, you better work your ass off at it. Oh, you’d better actually LEARN how to play those drums, you air-drumming goof”.

It was the early summer of ’78, and I had been air-drumming (the best way to learn drums, I swear) to all my faves, KISS, Cheap Trick, Aerosmith, Angel, etc. And I KNEW that my band was gonna sound just like Van Halen, probably my favorite band of all of ‘em at the time. They were fast, heavy, and Alex was a storming drummer. I would practice in my bedroom, with my little pair of sticks that I had painted black and silver, just like Roger Earl from Foghat. Man, I can remember my folks barging into my room on many occasion without knocking, as was customary for them to do, and catching me rocking out to whatever was on my turntable, and me freaking out at being caught redhanded, being that air-drumming goof. I would’ve rather had them discover me cranking myself, than captured in the horrifying act of ‘rocking out’.

Later in that same summer of ’78, while visiting family in El Paso, Texas, the light shone on me. Driving in my cousin Ken’s Mustang, and hearing Rush’ “2112” (on 8-track, no less!), it was like the gods were smiling down on me with an epiphany so great, it was overwhelming. I had found the ultimate band, and the ultimate drummer. I ran out and bought the vinyl to ‘2112’, and learned it backwards and forwards, on the air drums of course, my air-drum kit now expanded to Neil Peart-size dimensions. And I was the SHIT! I still had never touched a real drumset, but armed with newfound Neil Peart-knowledge, I was one bad-ass air-drumming mofo. That’s when I started realizing, “Y’know, you’re getting down the styles of all these drummers you like, when you actually break your cherry on a kit, you’re gonna have a greater aptitude for it than the average 12 year-old who’s just learning how to ‘boom-PAP-boom-PAP-boom-PAP’, don’t you think, Gene?” Ahh…the effortless recollection of an 11 year-old’s internal dialogue. So, armed with that knowledge, I knew…it was time…to break my cherry…

TWO WHOLE YEARS LATER I got my first kit, a sharp-lookin’ chrome-finished five-piece Slingerland with a 26(!) inch kick drum. 14”, 15” toms, and an 18” floor. And some non-descript, yet decent snare. I can remember, the first thing I played on it was “The Rover” by Zeppelin, and I wasn’t even a huge Zep fan at the time, but I knew at the time that I would have to tell this story someday, just like now, so, “Remember your first song on your first kit, dude.” I then moved my turntable out to the garage, and I left my professional air-drumming ways behind.

Where my house was situated, it was about a block away from the junior high I attended, and half the school would walk past my house on their way home. We all know how brutal kids that age can be, so I figured, I’d better get real good, and only bring out my ‘A-game’ when jamming after school. The cliques were all present and established, and oh yes, there was the definite ‘drumming-clique’, which, although I got along with those guys okay, I would never be a part of them. These guys were the elite, all in the school band, learning rudiments and how to read, and I was bashing away to Pat Travers and Sammy Hagar records. Thus, the embryonic form of my ‘messianic complex’ was taking shape, and I was like, “You can HAVE all your para-wingdang-diddly-doodles, I’m gonna actually become a real drummer, be in a band, see the world, have an awesome LIFE, and you’re all gonna be weekend warriors at best, with crappy 9-to-5 jobs with a zombie-wife and a zombie-life,” and then kick in to “YYZ” by Rush. And play it pretty decently for an ex-air-drumming goof. I knew what I wanted, I had known for two years already. And I wasn't ever going to stop until I made something of myself For more of Gene's life story, visit hoglanindustries.com