A Different Drummer

Ahmir “?uestlove” Thompson helped kick-start Philly’s neo-soul scene, pals with everyone from Jay-Z to Norah Jones, and is one of today’s most in-­demand musicians. But his most ­impressive feat is ­becoming an icon in the swaggering world of hip-hop while staying true to the geek within

Once in a while, you’ll see that light shine through the cracks in his cool. The end of the Graceland tour leads Ahmir to the King’s grave. He tries tossing a penny into the fountain behind the memorial, but misfires, launching the coin, directly and loudly, at a photo of Elvis. To everyone’s horror, it bounces right off Presley’s kisser. “Did I just make a mark on his nose?” Ahmir asks his friends, who don’t know whether to laugh or start collecting money for some sort of Graceland bail. “Fuck. I gotta get out of here.” You just know that if Jay-Z or Bono threw that penny, it would have landed with a splash.

During a break from the Chappelle Show sessions, Ahmir and Steve Mandel, his studio engineer, are prowling South Street. The drummer has finished watching the Freaks and Geeks TV shows on DVD, which he loved, and wants to stock up for the road. Ahmir has dubbed the Roots’ tour buses Gryffindor and Slytherin, in honor of the competing houses of magic in Harry Potter. He’s goody-goody Gryffindor, of course. But before raiding Tower Records, where a checkout clerk will strain to lift his two baskets overflowing with movies and music, Ahmir is conducting a fly-by of the Whole Foods salad bar when a middle-aged woman in a smock approaches.

“Excuse me,” she says sheepishly. “Are you guys in a band?”

“Yeah,” he says. Steve is trying not to smile. He’s seen this before. Ahmir talks about not being famous, but later at the record store, and not once but twice at Graceland, of all places, fans found him. Cries of “Hey ?uest!” ring out often. The Whole Foods worker gets right to the point.

“There’s a guy in seafood who thinks you are just the best. If you could say hi, it would really make his day.”

“Sure,” Ahmir says, and lumbers rather than strolls over to the fresh fish section. For all his size, when he’s behind his minimalist drum kit — little more than a bass, a snare and two cymbals — he’s not usually a heavy hitter in the John Bonham lineage. His artistry is hidden in the notes you might never hear, those delicate ghost strokes that barely snap the snares, a quick flutter of his foot to fatten the backbeat. All of which the seafood guy would certainly confirm, if he were anywhere to be found. There’s no one at the counter, leaving Ahmir to stand with leafy greens and BBQ wings in hand.

“This,” he observes, “is when celebrity sucks.”

It’s a wonder he’s a celebrity anywhere — in seafood sections or other, more discerning geographies. Blame it on Joseph Simmons, a.k.a. Run, of Adidas-clad hip-hop pioneers Run-DMC. Back in 1988, when rap was evolving as an art form and exploding in popularity, he was asked about playing with live musicians. “We’ll never have a band,” he declared, pointing to his DJ, Jam Master Jay. “That’s our band.” And with that, it was officially not cool to use instruments in rap music.