Keith Moon, A Lesson in Mindfulness
The title sounds facetious, I know. The thought that one could somehow link the late drummer for The Who with mindfulness sounds ludicrous given the legend of Moon's rock and roll antics. Ne'ertheless, the thought came to me, and I will try to make a case.
Keith Moon died in 1978; you may not know the stories about his activities as unleashed rock star. He routinely, it appears, destroyed hotel rooms, threw televisions out windows, dropped cherry bombs down toilets. Moon secretly doubled the pyrotechnic charge in his drum kit when the group appeared on The Smothers Brothers Show. When it came time for the group's patented destruction of their instruments during the song “My Generation”, the bolstered charge produced a shocking explosion that (I believe) injured Peter Townshend's hearing. In a television interview near the end of his life, Moon stated that he knew he was getting old when he found that throwing himself down stairs actually hurt. And let's not forget the time he collapsed during a concert after taking horse tranquilizers. This led to Townshend asking if there were a drummer in the crowd. A becharmed audience member indeed took the drum seat.
Moon's behaviour is not without comps in the world of rock music, but it even extended to his musicianship. For most drummers, priority goes to keeping the beat. Moon's focus centered on creating energy with furious fills and cymbal crashes, in the midst of which he sometimes lost his way. He lacked something as metronome but added an amazement of vitality. Watching videos of him in action, you see him constantly in motion. You could legitimately call his method an attack on the drums.
Musically, Moon's wild approach worked because The Who's music was kinetic and raw. Also, bass player John Entwhistle played with exquisite steadiness and Townshend provided fundament with constantly slashed chords. The group never lost its pulse despite the vagaries of Moon's drumming. Moon added a core energy to the group's sound.
Unsurprisingly, but still sadly, Moon died of a drug overdose. The sedatives that he took to calm his urge for alcohol were not meant to be taken by the handful. He was 32.
I mean to speak of mindfulness here but Keith Moon seems like an exemplar of mindlessness. Surely, he lacked executive function. Executive function governs the cognitive skills to plan, reason, decide, and solve. Those with impaired executive function struggle to finish projects and follow schedules. They may also make rash decisions. Keith Moon could have been the poster boy for rash decisions.
Despite his lack of control in most aspects of his life, clarity shone thru the chaos of his drumming. He was Dionysian in his willingness to give in to the creative urge. I don't defend the craziness, I simply note that Keith Moon could make sense out of disorder. Perhaps you could call him a connoisseur of chaos.
Creativity requires a certain trust in the possible. You go with ideas, you try things. Keith Moon's drumming was a sort of supersonic expression of that. The noise is exuberance.
Creativity can be feverish, a spell of collection. You try not to judge it too much, just ride the wave. The cool compress of consideration can then be applied. That creative surge that you feel may not comprise the entire message. Make rules and break rules.
Mindfulness understands the moment by letting it play. Creatively speaking, that means respectfully receiving the energy droplet. Secondly, tho, it means seeing what the droplet makes. The executive gets involved and assays the thing itself. The driving noise of Keith Moon on the drums created something that shines in the aether. His dropping of cherry bombs into toilets made perhaps a different noise.
Mindfulness places you in a place of acceptance. This does not erase your moral code. Rather than judge, you try to understand. Distractions fill the world. Thru the noise and confusion, you try to make sense. Keith Moon made sense by swimming in the rush of compelling noise. There the executive functioned. Elsewhere in his life, we can surmise that he struggled in dismay. The speed of his rashness left his mindfulness behind. Moon presents perhaps an extraordinary example but his life and his music bring forth ideas of delivery and release for which mindfulness could be a greater haven. That's my guess, anyway.
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I found the photo online, because that's where you find things. I sought one that suggested Moon's kinetic energy. I saw another picture of him in concert. His snare was laying on the stage, his bass drum was gone. Still, he drummed. He was in the moment anyway.