So… I’ll be honest. Last week was a bit of a stitch-up.
Last week’s newsletter was titled “I am f*ckin bored.”* (What a hook!)
So many of you resonated with this premise—thanks for all the thoughtful replies!
I said it for good reason… because I am! But specifically—professionally. That’s the key point here.
I’ve always said (and as the saying goes), “Only boring people get bored.”
And it’s true. I wrote last week’s newsletter to trigger a response, and it did! Actually, I’d go as far as to say it was my most replied-to newsletter yet. But more importantly, I wrote it so we could dig a little deeper this week and reframe things.
So think of this as Pt. 2… Let’s go.
So, I didn’t get Primus.
The man of the hour is Mr. John Hoffman, and I couldn’t be happier for him.
Do I mean that? Absolutely.
When I got the email, there was about a 60-second moment of disappointment – as to be expected.
I was sitting in the studio early Saturday morning, about to do an hour of practice, and then the email came through.
I called my wife to let her know, then a close friend who’s been a big support throughout this whole experience, and after that, I decided to hop in the car and head home.
When I got home, I opened the door, and my 18-month-old, Maximus, came running to the door saying “Daddy!” There is no better feeling than that. Truly. And the frequency of that is what I would be giving up if I got Primus.
There are a couple of things I want to touch on here, just in terms of processing everything. It’s been a whirlwind seven weeks.
1. This gig was never mine.
This was always John’s gig. He was meant to get it. No one else. There is only one path with these things, and John was always going to be the guy because he is the right person for the job.
“The right person will get the gig.”
But I will add—this gig was 100% mine until John got it.
What do I mean? Simple. I approach everything with full commitment and belief until proven otherwise. And that’s exactly how you should approach everything in life. It’s yours until proven otherwise.
That’s the mindset I take into everything I do. That’s the level of self-belief I have.
2. Every opportunity is a double-edged sword.
They all have their pros and cons.
If I got this gig, it would mean being away from my family for up to two months at a time, maybe more.
The first tour was seven weeks. But when you factor in rehearsals and prep, it all adds up. And while Max is at a great age, he’s still young. He still needs (and wants) his dad around.
Given the size and level of the gig, we would have made it work. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t have come with a whole new set of challenges to face.
Everything has trade-offs.
The experience itself was the journey for me—and the gift too, if I’m honest. I just got validated in what I do at a level I’ve never experienced before, and that’s an amazing feeling.
I was one of ten drummers, handpicked from 6,200, to audition. One of two from outside the US. And not just that, but I was standing alongside drummers I’ve respected for years—Pridgen, Lang, Borlai… Insane.
So, what was my biggest takeaway? What did I really get from all this?
Well, aside from the validation I mentioned, I now know that I can walk into a high-stress situation like that and handle it with absolute ease. And I did.
I’m so damn proud of how I carried myself in that room, how I played throughout the audition, and I can’t wait to see whatever they choose to share from it in the coming weeks. 
————–
Now, back to being bored…
And I mean what I say here.
One of the biggest gifts of the last eight weeks has been really understanding what I want out of this instrument—professionally.
Three big things have happened recently:
- Playing for Natasha Bedingfield.
- Auditioning for Primus.
- Leaving Black Comet.
And what all this has helped me realize is that, as always, my joy for playing and my creativity come first.
What this means is that, as a professional, I’m not willing to do anything on the drums that doesn’t fully utilize my most natural voice on the kit—unless it pays well. That’s it.
Now, one thing this industry does NOT do, is talk about money transparently, so, I want to open up that conversation a little more…
Here’s where I am at with all that –
If you need me to just play pocket and add some color here and there? Cool, no worries—I love playing pocket! But if it’s for your project? Then it comes at a minimum cost of $1,000NZ per session, because that’s not the most natural way I choose to play or pursue this instrument.
I know I have good pocket. But unless the value is there for me—meaning I’m being compensated fairly—I just find it boring.
Natasha paid incredibly well. In fact, just to be transparent, she paid me $5,300NZ for two shows over four days. And because there was value, respect, and mutual appreciation, I fucking loved it. I had an absolute blast.
Primus? That was different. That obviously wasn’t about the money—I just loved the experience. That audition utilized everything I bring to the table—groove, chops, double pedal, dynamics, odd time signatures, the whole thing. The material stretched me, challenged me, and was genuinely interesting. And on top of that? It would’ve paid substantially more than gigs generally do here.
But then you take Black Comet. That was essentially just a pocket session gig, except I wasn’t getting paid—none of us were. Which is not the bands fault by any means. The band was trying to grow in the NZ market, and outside of using my pocket, it didn’t really utilize anything else I had to offer. It wasn’t my vision and it didn’t use my voice, which really just means that it wasn’t the right gig for me.
Now, I know this $1,000NZ-per-session price point has pretty much priced me out of most session gigs here in NZ. And that’s fine. That’s actually the point. I know the minimum value I’m willing to take when I’m commoditizing my craft.
Are $1,000NZ gigs even a thing in NZ? Yes. 100%. But that’s top-tier stuff. I’ve filled in for some of the biggest bands here in NZ, and that’s the going rate—$1,000. But by and large, high-level stuff sits around $500–$750, depending.
What’s interesting is that even after 27 years, I still just enjoy—prefer—working on my playing. The creative pursuit of my craft comes before anything else.
I remember telling Pridgen that I actually enjoy working on my playing more than playing with people. He was gobsmacked!
He loves playing with people first.
I love it too, but for me, the biggest joy is the pursuit—chasing ideas, refining techniques, and then sharing what I find along the way. And if I do play with people, it has to:
- Creatively inspire me and fully utilize my voice, or
- Pay very well.
That’s it. That’s the standard.
Now, back to the title – Only boring people get bored…
Professionally, I’m bored out of my brain. But creatively? Not, not at all.
Like I said, I love working on my playing. I can easily lose five hours in my studio, diving deep into my areas of interest. And I’ve built my life in a way that allows me to do that.
But beyond that, I also happen to have a very good guitarist friend nearby who:
- Pushes me creatively and utilizes everything I have to offer—if anything, he wants more.
- Is probably the most interesting guitarist I’ve ever met—his ideas and parts are unique. He doesn’t sound like anyone else, and I love how his brain works.
- Has been a close friend for over 25 years.
- Is in a similar life stage—married, kids, responsibilities, the whole thing.
- Is like-minded—creative, driven, reads, writes, always looking to push forward etc.
So, when it comes to creative output, working with him is an easy decision. He gives me full license to be myself, and the result is always original.
So that’s where I’ll lean in creatively—I’ll work on my playing, and I’ll write rad, original music with him.
When it comes to session work? I’ll take it as it comes, evaluate it case by case, and just make sure it checks all the boxes before I commit my time.
And outside of all that? Keep growing MasterMind Drummer.
I’ve got two more courses I want to drop soon—The Key to Double Pedal Mastery and The Key to Personal Mastery. After that, I’m looking at developing a beginner’s course too, since I’ve built a strong curriculum in that area, over the years.
I’m also about to announce my first 30-Day MasterMind Drummer Coaching Program enrollment for 2025 (now that I actually have the time).
I put a post up about it back in November, got a ton of inquiries, but then the Primus audition popped up, so I had to shelve it. Now that I know what my year looks like, I can put it back front and center.
So—if you’re keen to do the next 30-Day with me—diving into mechanics, dynamics, facility, health, wellbeing, mindset, all of it—hit reply and I’ll put you on the shortlist. I’ll send more info soon.
I’m also piecing together my next MasterMind Drummer Clinic Tour, and this time, I’m taking it to Australia and the UK! This one will be more focused on my approach to drumming, rather than just my career path and being a professional—last year’s tour leaned more into that side of things.
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Alright, that’s it! I’ll leave it there, as I’ve got some kettlebells to throw around and a full day ahead.
Thanks for taking the time to read this—and as always, I appreciate the feedback.
Stay hungry (and healthy),
Stan