Geoff Nicholls talks to Neil Conti, the new drummer in Level 42, and finds out he has a floppy left hand. Funny what you have to do to get a job these days.

You'll have heard that the exhausted Phil Gould has left (temporarily?) Level 42. Whatever's been going on, I've always thought Phil was one of the best things about the band. He's crisp, looks relaxed, and has a great time feel, as the live Wembley video from earlier this year testifies. Have a good rest, Phil, and we hope to hear from you soon.

That said, what about this here Neil Conti? It won't be easy to step into Phil's shoes, but Neil's enthusiastic enough and skilful enough to give the band a new slant.

When I saw Neil a few Sundays back he was fulfilling a lunchtime gig with his own band before flying to Newcastle to record with his regular band Prefab Sprout, thence to Paris for promotional TV and on to LA to start the 42 tour. The night before he'd played a Kokomo gig, and during the previous three days learnt the whole Level 42 set. He was buzzing.

A man going places has, as you'd expect, strong feelings about drumming.

"I like the idea of people not knowing the rules. Then they're more individual." The dearth of individuals in current drumming is something Neil mourns. He's excited by unusual players with recognisable attitudes, groove players who do the unexpected: say Diamond from the Ohio Players (have a listen to the LP "Honey"), and Clyde Stubblefield with James Brown. Or more recently, Steve Jordan, Steve Ferrone and Andy Newmark.

"I've got a theory about tunings. All the guys who groove have a big pitch difference between snare and bass drum. That's why I use a high snare tuning. It's like the rhythm moves from side to side." It swings.

But I'm racing ahead. To what does Neil attribute his own individuality? Being self-taught and basically right-handed, he started out playing rolls leading with the left hand. I've come across a few drummers who do this. Perhaps we're more ambidextrous than we think? Anyway, once bitten by the drum bug, schoolboy Neil would practice a couple of hours every night on a kit consisting of bass drum, three toms and a cymbal. No snare or hi-hat. So he didn't play time, but rather African-sounding tom tom riffs, leading with the left.

Although this was a bit weird at the time, Neil says, "It helped me be a bit individual, perhaps, because now I can play accents and pushes with the left hand. A lot of drummers play accents with their right hand all the time, but if you're playing what I call the 'in-betweenys', it's logical to play them with the left.

"Also, I've developed what engineers call a 'floppy' left hand, playing in-between or 'grace' notes. For some engineers it's too active, but that's them not understanding drumming. Once you've got the main beat in — the back beat — the grace notes can sound just like the hi-hat (sixteenths). They blend in. There's a new breed of engineer who's only used to drum machines. You say, 'Don't worry, you won't notice it in the mix, it'll actually make it sound human'. Of course they're listening with the drums up really loud and solo."

But where had we got to? After schooldays, Neil came down to London to follow the established pattern of playing round the pubs. "A steel orchestra one night, a hundred miles an hour new wave band the next." He learned how to make the hi-hat speak via the steel band calypso. The dynamics are really important:

Neil then started to pick up some sessions but soon realised that session players are not generally recognised in Britain; the way to get known is in a band. The opportunity came with Prefab Sprout. And with them vital recording experience and know-how. One trick he learnt from Phil Thornally (the ex-Cure bass player) who engineered Sprout's 'When Love Breaks Down' is to position a mike about a foot away from the snare drum, aimed horizontally at the side of the shell. If you've a problem getting a good snare sound this can add body, plus a bit of extra crispness.

How do the Sprouts record? "It's mostly done with a click, but we play around it. We never listen back to the drums with the click to see if they coincide exactly. It just negates the idea of having a real drummer. But the machines have helped young drummers to improve their time. Nowadays you'll walk into a pub and hear a guy do a fill and it won't rush quite as much as it used to. But things have gone too far. The problem with technology is that it's given people the possibility to analyse things, and things get over-analysed. I don't think it's a good thing to take out every instrument in the rhythm section and check it for timing against a click. Listen to the rhythm section as a whole, and if it sounds good it does, and if it doesn't it doesn't. That's how the public hear it."

"Sometimes on a session I have to fight to get things in which are like almost 'mistakes'. I'll even do another take for them and compare it. After a while they get to know the first one and like it."

But what of the change to Level 42? The commonest criticism of them is perhaps that they're too squeaky clean. You have to be very disciplined when about half the set has 'live' sequencers. "But they're not stiff. It's a groove oriented band. Some bands can groove with sequencers. And Mark King and Mike Lindup are both drummers. Their accents are crisp and right in between — where they should be. Every musician should play a bit of drums or practice rhythm. Neil often gets keyboard players or guitarists to do this exercise:

So finally, how do you learn Level 42's set in three days? Well, as you'd expect, a deal of concentrated listening, sorting things out into eight bars and 16 bars, and "sometimes I write little signs; it's like tying a knot in your handkerchief, it doesn't matter what you write, but it jogs your memory."

And a very individual shorthand for the accents going from verses to choruses to bridges and so on: if the beat goes straight on Neil writes nothing; if it's an eighth note push he writes a 'P'; and if it's a 16th note push he fills in the P: 'b'. Simple and sufficient. Now you know.