It turns out that Frank is a drummer, that is, a guy who plays drums hard and has already made a name for himself in that field, although he hasn’t been that stable with any band, you know? The joke is that Frank has a hard time fitting in with other people’s ideas; every time he gets together with a band, there’s always someone who wants to impose their way of playing or who tells him “do it this way,” and he’s not one of those who conform. It’s like every drum beat is a struggle to be himself, but in the end, it always ends up being a mess. Imagine this guy, in any rehearsal, trying to hit the beat, and at the same time hearing someone say “hey, Frank, go back to the original version, not that weird improvisation.” And of course, you can tell that it bothers him, but instead of fixing it, he starts thinking about how absurd the whole thing is.
Let me tell you that in one of those bands where he felt super uncomfortable, after a rehearsal that turned into a disaster, he went to the park. Yes, to the park, without any drama, he just sat on a bench like someone who is tired of everything. And there, while he watched the people go by, it occurred to him that maybe it wasn't worth it to keep hitting the drums, that all that stuff about being famous and complaining that they want to change his style was becoming a pain. He was tired of going through so many bands and in the end not staying in any. It's just that he's not compatible with everyone. He has his own style and he doesn't like to change it. So in one way or another he always clashed with the leaders of the bands. So for this reason he feels tired of all this and wants to leave.
But, you know how things are, when you think you're going to take the easy way and suddenly life throws you a curveball. A few days later, as if by fate or pure chance, he came across a group called “the misfits.” To be honest, he didn’t even expect the name, but after a while he realized that they were the kind of guys who didn’t care about following any rules. In that place, in the middle of a small venue with half-dimmed lights (as if to say “there are no pretensions here”), people played in such a chaotic and disorderly way that, surprisingly, it worked. There was no formality of super-polished rehearsals; rather, it was obvious that everyone was there to have a good time, without so many complications.
Well, he spoke to them in a last attempt to see if he fit in there. And it turns out they were looking for a drummer. I'll tell you, the first rehearsal with them was a real mess. Frank felt so comfortable that he almost forgot how badly he had done with the other bands before. And, while we're at it, I confess that he himself laughed at his own clumsiness while trying to keep up. Amidst laughter and the occasional mistake, he realized that there nobody was going to tell him "do it this way" or "no, Frank, that's not going to work." It was as if, finally, they had given him permission to be himself, with his mistakes, his strange improvisations and everything else.
So little by little, Frank realized that the important thing was not to have a perfect band, that is to say, the important thing was to enjoy the moment and this band was for him. What happened was that he had not found the right place. To be honest, sometimes life is like that, a bit messy, with stumbles everywhere, but that's what makes it interesting, like in Frank's case. At one of his concerts with his new band, he found himself on stage with the misfits. He simply let himself go with the flow, hitting the drums with the confidence of someone who, although sometimes he feels lost, knows that what he does is his own. It's true that the other bands were right in not wanting his style because they weren't what they were looking for, but hey, at least this helped him get to the right place.
The audience at that concert loved the result. Now the misfits were complete with the addition of Frank. Their music would be a hit from now on and Frank no longer wanted to give up music. Now the guy who never managed to fit into anyone's mold, finally found in the chaos of music what he was truly looking for, that is, to be himself.
