Italian, fifty-two, and Volcren’s new drummer. She writes music and lyrics. Her bionic right arm draws attention; Venus would rather people listen to how she plays. She joined after Joe Resnick, invited by her longtime friend Jimmy Ache.
Interviewer
Let’s start with the inevitable question. Who is Venus Bradan?
Venus
Oh God. We’re off to a terrible start.
Interviewer
Why?
Venus
Because when someone asks who you are, they usually want three words to stick under a photograph. Drummer. Cyborg. Woman. Maybe “sexy” too, so the algorithm’s happy.
Interviewer
You don’t like that?
Venus
Sexy? Of course I do. I’m not dead. But mostly I’m someone who plays drums. And I think I’m pretty good.
Interviewer
“Pretty”?
Venus
Fine. I’m fucking good. Can we move on?
Interviewer
Where did you learn to play?
Venus
Mostly on my own at first. We couldn’t afford music lessons. The first real drum kit I got to use belonged to a boy who lived near us. It was falling apart. One tom head looked like it was being held together by prayer, and the hi-hat sounded awful. To me, it was beautiful.
Interviewer
Why drums?
Venus
Because they made noise. At home there were noises I couldn’t control. With the drums, I finally got to decide when the noise started and when it stopped. And I loved feeling it in my stomach. That part has never changed.
Interviewer
Did you study later on?
Venus
When I could afford it. And I studied seriously: technique, rudiments, limb independence, jazz, funk, rock. I can’t stand the idea that a woman behind a drum kit should be judged by how she looks first and, maybe, by how she plays afterward.
Interviewer
Yet you don’t hide your sensuality.
Venus
Why should I? I can be a serious musician and still want to feel beautiful. What bothers me is being seen as nothing but sexy. Big difference.
Interviewer
Were you in other bands before Volcren?
Venus
Several. I wrote lyrics and music too. With an all-female band, we were close to making a real name for ourselves. Then one of the girls wrecked the whole thing out of spite.
Interviewer
What did she do?
Venus
That story involves other people. I’m not going to give you half the facts just to make myself look right. The opportunity was gone. That much I can tell you.
Interviewer
Let’s talk about your arm. What happened?
Venus
A car accident. I was twenty.
Interviewer
Do you want to tell us about it?
Venus
No.
Interviewer
Did you lose your arm in the accident?
Venus
Not right away. They tried to save it. Surgeries, infections, more surgeries. In the end, the arm didn’t make it. I did.
Interviewer
And the drums?
Venus
That was the worst part. The first time I sat down at a kit again, I couldn’t even do things that used to be automatic. I cried. I threw a drumstick against the wall. Then I picked it up.
Interviewer
And started again.
Venus
No. I started again the next day. That night I was too fucking angry.
Interviewer
Your arm looks very sophisticated now.
Venus
It is. And it cost me years of work. I bought it with my own money. Nobody showed up with a briefcase and a happy ending. And it doesn’t play for me. I keep the time. The groove is mine. The mistakes are mine. Unfortunately.
Interviewer
Did you have a difficult childhood?
Venus
My father drank and hardly worked. There were days when we were hungry. Really hungry. My mother tried to bring money home. She was exhausted, distant. My older sister and I needed more than that. For a long time I thought it was normal to be afraid of people you love. Then you find out it isn’t.
Interviewer
Did it make you tougher?
Venus
Yes. And no. It made me suspicious. Sometimes too suspicious. But there’s still a part of me that believes in people with embarrassing ease. That’s the part that always gets me.
Interviewer
Do you think of yourself as strong?
Venus
People keep confusing strength with being invulnerable. I fall apart. Believe me. Then I get back up.
Interviewer
What do you do when you’re not playing?
Venus
Try to convince Gilda, my cat, that technically the house belongs to me. With terrible results. I think she sees me as the staff.
Interviewer
Let’s talk about Volcren. Joe Resnick played drums before you.
Venus
There was Joe. Not “the drummer before me.” Joe. There’s a difference.
Interviewer
Did you know him?
Venus
Not the way they did. I came later. But sometimes you can know people through what they leave in others. When someone is truly missed, they still take up a lot of space.
Interviewer
Volcren say Joe went to the Archemondo. What is it?
Venus
I think I understand it. But if I explained it, I’d probably ruin it. There are places where you can no longer reach someone, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve stopped being there. Maybe the Archemondo is one of those places.
Interviewer
Were you afraid to sit behind Joe’s kit?
Venus
Very. And the first thing I told them was: I’m not replacing Joe. They said that was exactly what they wanted. Joe can’t be replaced. I’m Venus. I’ll play his songs and respect what came before me, but I have to play them with my own hands. Okay. With what I’ve got.
Interviewer
How did you join Volcren?
Venus
Jimmy called me. We’ve known each other for years. After Joe died, he remembered me and how I played. We got together and played. Nobody gave me that look that says, “Let’s see if she can manage with that arm.” I’m grateful for that.
Interviewer
What convinced you?
Venus
They were weird. They weren’t trying to look young, beautiful, or fashionable. There was something unresolved in their music. I thought: these guys are looking for something. I wanted to play with them.
Interviewer
What do you want to bring to the music?
Venus
I heard spaces where the drums could stop accompanying the song and become a voice. I don’t want to sit in the back just keeping time. I want to get inside the song. If I need to stay silent for sixteen bars, I will. And if the next four seconds call for hell, I’ll give you four seconds of hell.
Interviewer
Jimmy’s an old friend. What about the others?
Venus
I trust Jimmy, and I don’t say that about many people. Diego is young. Too young for me. But young doesn’t mean invisible. And before you turn that into a headline: I’m here because I can play.
Interviewer
And Paul?
Venus
Paul thinks a lot. Too much. Sometimes I look at him and think: Jesus, man, just live.
Interviewer
Do you tell him that?
Venus
Of course.
Interviewer
How does he react?
Venus
He thinks about that too.
Interviewer
What’s your relationship like?
Venus
Sometimes we’re like father and daughter. He tries to look after me, and I tell him to mind his own business. We tell each other to go to hell, and we care about each other. Sometimes almost in the same breath. There’s affection, a love of the mind, not a physical one. But understanding me doesn’t give him the right to decide for me.
Interviewer
What do you want now?
Venus
To play. Travel. Laugh. Spend time with Gilda. Be loved. Love someone without constantly having to defend myself. And not lose the part of me that can still be amazed by things.
Interviewer
What will Venus Bradan bring to Volcren?
Venus
Noise. And a little truth. They need it.
Interviewer
And what will Volcren bring to Venus?
Venus
Maybe a family.
Interviewer
Are you sure?
Venus
Absolutely not. I said maybe.
Interviewer
And Joe?
Venus
When I sit down there, I think of him too.
Interviewer
And your place?
Venus
I’ll make it by playing with them. I keep time on this side. Joe can keep it on the other.
The recorder is already off when Venus calls us back.
Venus
Hey. That thing about strong women. I know you’re going to write it. Don’t write that.
Interviewer
Then what should we write?
Venus
Write that I’m still here.
She turns and walks away. A few steps later, she comes back.
Venus
And write that I’m fucking good at drums.
Volcren Journal · English edition.
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