08/21/2026
A LIFE OF RHYTHM
The Story of Ed “Mr Ed” Francis
My story with music began before I could possibly have understood where it would take me.
In the early 1970s, I was simply “Eddie,” a little boy sitting on the kitchen floor banging away on pots and pans with my brother while my grandfather watched and encouraged us. My grandmother may not have appreciated all the noise quite as much, but my grandfather allowed us to explore, experiment, and have fun. I also remember sitting at the piano beside my mother and aunt, playing along and discovering the simple excitement of making sounds together.
Those experiences taught me something that would become important throughout my life: learning doesn't always begin with formal instruction. Sometimes it begins with curiosity.
Then came 1976.
For my seventh birthday, I received my first drum set. I can still picture that young boy sitting behind those drums in the kitchen, surrounded by family and wearing a colorful, long-collared disco shirt. I felt a little like Animal from The Muppets—a character whose wild enthusiasm for drumming fascinated me. I didn't know anything about building a career, becoming a teacher, winning competitions, or owning a drum studio.
I simply knew that I loved playing the drums.
FINDING MY PLACE
As I grew older, music became increasingly important to me. I learned to play clarinet and began performing in school concert band. I remember my first performance on the sixth-grade basketball court and hearing all the different instruments surrounding me. The layers of sound seemed to swim around in my ears. Hearing the audience respond positively was exciting, but something even more important was happening—I was discovering what it felt like to be part of something larger than myself.
During my awkward teenage years, music and drumming gave me a place to belong.
High school band created friendships and opportunities to perform at concerts and march during football games. It also introduced me to discipline, preparation, responsibility, and leadership.
At 16, I was unexpectedly given an opportunity that would have a lasting impact on me. When my high school band director became injured and went on sick leave, I was given additional responsibility for conducting rehearsals and leading marching drills during class.
I certainly didn't have everything figured out. But I was beginning to discover something about myself: I enjoyed leading, learning, and helping other people improve.
Long summer rehearsals and freezing winter practices also taught me that becoming good at something required more than enthusiasm. It required preparation and dedication.
That lesson has stayed with me.
LEARNING FROM PEOPLE BETTER THAN ME
Another major chapter began when my brother and I joined the Toreadors Jr. Drum & Bugle Corps.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by drummers who could do things I couldn't do.
Instead of allowing that to discourage me, I became curious.
During breaks, while others might have been relaxing, I would find the really good drummers—the “awesome drummer kids”—and ask them to show me what they were doing. I wanted to understand. I wanted to improve.
Being around talented people taught me that there will always be someone who knows something I don't know. Rather than feeling threatened by that, I learned to see it as an opportunity.
If someone could do something better than me, there was something I could learn from them.
That mindset accelerated my development as a drummer while also providing me with something equally valuable: humility.
One of the most important experiences from those years didn't involve winning anything.
One of my instructors asked me to meet with another student drummer who had missed rehearsals and help teach her the parts she needed to learn. I suddenly had responsibility for someone else's success.
I discovered that I enjoyed figuring out how to explain something so another person could understand it. I wanted that drummer to know her parts—and know them well.
That experience gave me my first real glimpse of something that would eventually become central to my life:
Teaching.
My years with the Toreadors were successful. I received Rookie of the Year in 1986, Most Improved in 1987, and Toreador of the Year in 1987. But looking back, the awards weren't nearly as valuable as the habits being formed behind them—the willingness to practice, listen, ask questions, accept correction, and continually look for ways to become better.
THE AIR FORCE & ANOTHER BEGINNING
In August 1987, one chapter ended and another began almost immediately.
I performed in my final competition with the Toreadors on Monday evening, August 24. Early the next morning, August 25, I left for United States Air Force basic training.
I would eventually serve eight years on active duty, working as a Mental Health Unit Specialist in an inpatient mental health facility, Alcohol Rehabilitation Center, Substance Abuse Recovery Center, and conducting neuropsychological testing for the Department of Neuropsychology. I completed two four-year enlistments and was honorably discharged.
But drumming continued traveling with me.
While serving in the Air Force, I learned about auditions for a talent competition that could lead to the USAF Worldwide Talent Competition. I decided to enter with a drum solo.
I played my heart out.
When I finished, the room was completely silent.
I looked around at the judges, performers, and guests and thought they hadn't liked what I had done. I stood up and waited. Still nothing. Eventually I bowed—and suddenly the room erupted with applause and yelling.
I hadn't expected it.
That moment became another reminder that growth often requires putting yourself into situations where you don't know what is going to happen.
That decision led to winning first place for Instrumental Solo, first place for Musical Potpourri, Best of Show, and participating in the USAF Worldwide Talent Competition in 1992. During those years I also played with local bands around San Antonio, including Brick, which recorded and performed throughout the area and at the grand opening of the Hard Rock Cafe on the San Antonio Riverwalk.
ALWAYS LOOKING FOR THE NEXT LESSON
One theme continued appearing throughout my adult life:
I wanted to get better.
That didn't always mean winning something. Sometimes it meant finding a teacher. Sometimes it meant watching another drummer. Sometimes it meant entering a competition. Sometimes it meant deliberately putting myself in a situation where I might discover that I wasn't as good as I thought I was.
Over the years I played with jazz groups and other bands, studied with professional musicians, successfully auditioned for Blue Man Group, and was mentored by legendary drummer Louie Bellson. I was interviewed by Modern Drummer, featured on Drum Talk TV's Master Educators series, appeared in the film The Rhythm Session, participated in podcasts, and returned to the USAF Worldwide Talent Contest years later as a guest speaker.
Guitar Center's Drum Off competitions became another important learning environment for me.
Initially, I entered because I wanted to hear good drummers. The competitions gave me an excuse to create original solos, practice harder, challenge myself, and spend time around other people who loved drumming.
I eventually won at both the local and district levels and later had the privilege of serving as a judge at several Drum Off finals. But what mattered most wasn't standing on one side of the judging table or the other.
It was being around people who were trying to improve.
The drumming community often used these events to encourage, challenge, inform, and inspire one another. Some of my own students eventually attended, competed, and even reached the finals themselves.
BECOMING A TEACHER
I founded Round Rock Drums in 1990.
In many ways, Round Rock Drums is the culmination of everything that came before it—the little boy with the pots and pans, the seventh grader discovering ensemble music, the awkward teenager finding confidence through band, the young drummer asking better players for help, the teenager unexpectedly leading rehearsals, the Toreador teaching another student her parts, the Airman taking a chance at an audition, and the adult drummer continuing to search for people and experiences that could teach him something new.
All of those experiences eventually found their way into my teaching.
Over the years, my students have learned to read and write music, perform in concert and marching bands, create their own bands and compositions, teach others, conduct, volunteer, play additional instruments, and develop confidence and leadership skills. Round Rock Drums students have also had opportunities to perform at events including America's Got Talent, Dell Diamond, and X Games Austin.
Those accomplishments make me proud.
But I've come to believe that teaching music is about something much bigger than producing good drummers.
It's about helping people discover what they're capable of becoming.
STILL A STUDENT
Perhaps the greatest lesson I've learned is that there isn't a point where you finally “arrive.”
I have spent decades teaching, but I still want to learn.
I have had successes, but I still want to improve.
I've had opportunities to teach others, but I still need people willing to teach me.
I've learned that becoming better requires being willing to admit when I don't know something, being curious enough to ask questions, being humble enough to listen, and being courageous enough to try things that might expose my weaknesses.
That philosophy affects much more than drumming. It affects how I try to approach teaching, relationships, creativity, leadership, and life.
Even my students teach me.
I listen to their ideas. I watch how they learn. I reconsider approaches that aren't working. I experiment. I adjust. And I continue searching for better ways to connect with the person sitting on the other side of the drum set.
After all these years, I still love putting on music and playing drums. I still enjoy creating rhythms that challenge me and take me somewhere I haven't been before.
The little boy banging on pots and pans is still in there.
He's just older now.
And he's learned that the greatest opportunities in life aren't necessarily the moments when someone tells you how good you are. They are often the moments when you discover how much more there is to learn.
My life has been filled with music, performances, competitions, teaching, successes, mistakes, challenges, friendships, and unexpected opportunities. Through all of them, I've tried to carry one simple idea forward:
Keep learning. Keep asking questions. Keep challenging yourself. Stay humble enough to learn from others. And when you discover something valuable, pass it along to someone else.
Because ultimately, becoming better isn't about arriving at some final destination.
It's about remaining willing to grow.
Happy drumming… :)
