Let me start this review by stating that I am a father. Everyone I know says my seven-year-old son is a Mini Me and the splitting image of his old man, this given the fact I adopted my kid. Karma prevails. Though I don’t consider myself a true drummer, I noodle with a five-piece Gretsch kit as my train wreck of a schedule permits. Perhaps one of the greatest father-and-son moments I’ve had (and I’ve had tons, thank you) was a year ago when that boy sat on the stool behind the Gretsch and his foot reached the bass pedal. He laid down a near-perfect 4/4 rhythm. Who wouldn’t be proud, especially if you’re a music journalist, much less a big league drummer like Mike Portnoy?