GREENSBORO, N.C. — At the corner of Battleground Avenue and Pisgah Church Road, the roaring din of rush hour traffic is headache-inducing. But even above the blanket of clamoring car horns and pavement thunder, a sharp rhythm is puncturing the September evening air.
Rat-tatta-tat ratta-tat-tat-tatta-rat-tat
Josh Boyd's ears are ringing, but he doesn't mind the racket. Those ratta-tats are his ratta-tats. Josh's noise, scratch that, his labor of love manifests itself in the swiftness of his hands over the snare drum and the stomping thump of his bass. His drum kit faces the fray of whizzing cars. Tonight, he's playing for no one, and everyone, and at this moment, Josh is totally at peace.
"It's freedom. That's really what it is," Boyd smiles, "it feels like freedom."
Tat-rat-tatta-tat-tatta-tat-tatta-rat-tat-tat
Something about playing outside, Josh says, feels special. Maybe, it's the acoustics. Perhaps it's the wonder of his ever-changing audience. It's likely his location. Where some see a street, Josh sees a stage.
"I'm situated kind of above everybody, kinda overlooking the crowd," Boyd said, "it's perfect."
At the far edge of the Battleground CVS Pharmacy parking lot, the hedges part, revealing an elevated manhole cement block, conveniently large enough for Josh's set-up. Here, he's perched higher than the cars, in prime sight of the busy Pisgah Church Road intersection. Josh's stage even comes equipped with a spot-light. It illuminates the sidewalk. In the glare, the cymbals shimmer.
"I'll be out here until the sun sets most of the time. I really can't get enough." he said.
Josh visits his stage as often as he can. When the weather permits, he takes his drums, permanently cached in his grey RAV4, to the corner. From the roost he dazzles. His skill is well practiced, but his passion, he claims, is prenatal.
"My mom always tells, me even before I was born, when I was in the womb and she was around the sound of drums, I would start jumping," Boyd said, "it's God given. It chose me."
Outrageous as that sounds, with each whirring riff and crashing solo, it becomes easier and easier to believe Mama Boyd. As Josh plays, windows roll down at the stoplight to listen, passengers nodding their heads and yelping to the beat. On a few occasions, during a flashy combination across the toms, the light flicks green, but no cars move.
Shoppers exiting the pharmacy linger behind Josh, camera phones capturing the scene. Some hand him money, but he's not here to play for cash.
He's made enough from his three bands, giving private lessons and his former part-time music teaching gig at Highland North Music School in Greensboro. For fun, he drums for two churches and hits Battleground Avenue.
The wholehearted obsession feels like a well that never runs dry. When he draws his gift up, he wants to share it. He knows drumming in front of strangers along the highway isn't an ordinary way to spend an evening, but he believes it's one way he can give others a taste of the joy he finds in his music.
"People in the parking lot have come up after watching me and say, "I'm inspired to do go after what I want.' just off the courage I have to play outside in front of anybody," Boyd said, "that's why I do it."
The example Josh sets, the noise he makes, he hopes is joyful. He knows he drums a lot. No problem, he says, more drumming means more chances to inspire.
"People tell me all the time, 'You need to take a break.' But for me, taking a break is going to play more drums!" Boyd said, "it's weird. It's an addiction, but it's an addiction that I would never want to get rid of."