Losing My Dream ... or When one door closes

I wasn't always obsessed with drums. I managed to get half-way through my teen years before becoming addicted. Then I jumped in with both feet. Hard.

Everything I did for the next decade and a half was drums and music. I played, I studied, I taught, I joined rehearsal bands, and I worked in a music store. At its worst, I played with 6 different bands, taught, and commuted to study in a university jazz program, where I also played, taught and gigged regularly. And then it all caught up to me. The noise I'd been subjecting my unprotected ears to won the day, and the resulting hearing damage forced me to walk away from the music business.

At the time I actually thought that I had an easier time of it than some other musicians. One fellow I worked with was getting arthritis in his hands, but he could still teach and compose and play a bit. Because of my hearing damage and the accompanying noise sensitivity, I had to jettison everything to do with drums and even music. As a result, I was able to avoid having a daily reminder of what I didn’t have ... mostly.

Starting with a clean slate meant I could go anywhere and do anything, as long as it was quiet. I think if I'd been sort of able to do music, I would have been too frustrated. I wanted to play, but I ended up working with computers -- nice quiet computers, as my COBOL professor put it. But it wasn't long before a passionate interest revealed itself. I was hired to do some database programming, and during the lulls I found a ready supply of people who needed technical help. When I finished that project, I landed a few college computer courses and discovered that, oddly, I loved being at the front of the class room despite my general shyness. Subsequent jobs were all heavy on teaching and writing. After I left the IT field, I landed back teaching at the same college.

People teach for a lot of different reasons. For me, it's the buzz I get when a student gets it. I can almost see the wheels turning and when the light goes on. And if there's no ‘ah-ha' moment, I love the challenge of trying again.

As a teacher, I take failure personally. If a student fails to grasp the material, then I have not done the job I was hired to do. It's a little tougher to do that in a college setting, but I rarely had students fail, and I have pretty high standards. My students did well because I made sure they were learning.

If I hadn't been forced to leave music, I might never have discovered my passion for teaching. I’d enjoyed teaching drums to a handful of students, but it was always more of a side-gig. And although I had done some writing, the amount of writing needed to be a proper professor made me a better writer. Teaching also required a lot of research. It’s something I truly hated when I was at Uni, but for some reason loved to do when it made for a better lesson.

It took a long time for my ears to settle down and to find ways of coping with a pretty debilitating condition (tinnitus, hyperacusis, recruitment). Today I can do a bit of playing and that has enabled me to teach again, and that’s where I think I’m really meant to be.

Photo Credit: Petr Malohlava

WWSGD?

It’s an old joke: How many drummers does it take to change a light bulb? The standard answer is three: one to change the bulb and two more to discuss how Steve Gadd would have done it.

It's inevitable that something great will resonate. Steve laid down the track for 50 Ways to Leave your Lover in 1975 and here we are, 50 years later, still marveling at it. There are numerous other examples of his genius in all manner of music styles, and always in service of the music and of drum artistry.

I have to admit that I have my own Steve Gadd moments, when I try to emulate his energy, his musical taste and, above all, his discretion. The mental conversation usually goes something like this: "What would Steve Gadd do? ... No, not that!"

I like the term emulate. It does not mean copy. It means to use something as an inspiration to your own playing.

There are very good reasons to copy licks from other players. It’s called research. I like to think of it as going to the source, perhaps the original innovator. The goal is to absorb all that material and then let become part of your personal palate. And it will.

But don't just copy the licks, also look at the ideas behind them. Go a step further and emulate the musicianship, the professionalism, the energy, the creativity.

There's much more to Mr. Gadd than a catchy militaristic beat. Plus there are so many great drummers past, present and future that you should have no trouble finding lots of inspiration free for the listening.

Now, what would Antonio Sanchez do?

Technical Note: Recent research has shown that a “What would ____ do?” approach is actually a great way to operate. By merely asking yourself the question, you put yourself into a mind set that is more creative.

Photo credit:  Skrypko Ievgen | Dreamstime.com 

Dirty Little Tricks

A lot of drummers like to have clean and shiny cymbals. Clean cymbals have a brighter (can we say cleaner?) tone and they look great on stage. Then there are those who think a bit of patina adds character. And there are devotees of grungy cymbals who just can't get enough of that well-aged look and sound.

And what if you value that worn-in sound and look, but want to keep your nearly new cymbals? Some drummers like to help the aging process along by treating their cymbals to a variety of techniques that claim to hasten the cymbal ageing process. Note that there are no guarantees and no recommendations here. Note also that many modern cymbals have a light coat of protective lacquer which must be removed if you're to make any headway with an ageing project.

Patina Happens
Cymbals are made of bronze, and bronze will tarnish. Patina (surface discolouration) occurs when the surface metal of the cymbal interacts with certain elements in the environment. Removing patina means removing the top layer of the cymbal, and if you do that, your cymbal will probably sound like it's brand new regardless of its age. Patina, by the way, protects the cymbal from further corrosion.

Getting Down To Earth
A simple trick is to bury the cymbal in the back yard or perhaps out in the woods (don't forget to mark the spot, make a map or both). Leave the cymbal there for three months or more and then dig up a cymbal that's been aged in doggie years. Here’s an interesting video wherein Sabian buries a bunch of cymbals.

In a Fine Pickle
A highly rated technique is pickle juice. The process calls for covering the cymbal with the juice and a dash of salt. Then you just watch the magic happen -- seriously, this will turn your cymbal green pretty fast. Apparently pickled onion juice works best.

Fumée Bronze
Ammonia fumes love to react with bronze. In this scenario you'll need a container large enough to hold the cymbal. You prep the cymbal with salt (saline gives a more even result) then put it on a platform inside your container of choice. Add a dish of ammonia or two and close the lid. You'll begin to see changes within a few hours. Allow a week or more for maximum effect, which can be both dramatic and beautiful.

Maybe, Maybe Not
There are reports of drummers taking their bronze to the beach and immersing them in the briny deep. If you're headed that way, why not? This one's not on the short list of aging suggestions as evidence at this point is purely anecdotal. A technique that is recommended, though, is a mixture of salt and lemon juice (some people swear by coffee grounds). Brush the brew evenly onto your cymbal, wait a few hours and voila!

The good news is that it's almost impossible to harm a cymbal with any of these tricks, so if you don't like the result, a good cleaning can usually set things right.

Want more ageing options? Check out rdavidr's video.

Photo credit:  Nadezhda Bolotina, Dreamstime.com

Drum Set Rudiments Part 2: Technique

{See Drum Set Rudiments Part 1 for 'soft skills')

Some drummers seem to have an obsession with technique. Others eschew the whole idea. A certain amount of technical skill is necessary to play well. Beyond that, it’s personal taste, values, etc. I prefer to think in terms of capability. What am I capable of as a drummer? Then I can focus on technique that makes me a more competent player. I also find it intrinsically rewarding to advance my skills and knowledge. To that end I recommend you become familiar with the following.

Natural Sticking
Given the option, we’re inclined to start things with our dominant hand. In Natural Sticking, all notes are played hand-to-hand, i.e. alternate strokes, except for diddles. This forces you to lead with each hand and it will help with independence, body awareness, and open-handed playing.

Single Strokes
Your number one work-horse sticking should need no explanation. This is where most drummers gain their speed. Remember to lead with each hand.

Double Strokes
While the traditional Long Roll isn’t called for very often in modern music, the movements are vital to many other techniques ...  diddles, drags etc.

Paradiddles
The Single Paradiddle is probably the most useful sticking available, second only to alternate strokes. There is an entire extended family of paradiddles (single, double, triple, paradiddle-diddle, and all their permutations) and all are worth studying as they help build speed, finger control and efficiency.

Paradiddle-diddle
This simple sticking takes advantage of diddles and can outperform single strokes for speed while providing a variety of rhythmic textures. The permutations are rich in possibilities.

RLRRLL    LRLLRR
RLLRRL    LRRLLR
RRLRLL    LLRLRR
RRLLRL    LLRRLR
RLRLLR    LRLRRL

Triplets
Triplets underlie swing and shuffles, and are important to the inner feel of funk. Be comfortable with 8th, 16th and quarter-note triplets. A good triplet feel contributes to flow and balance. My preferred way of counting triplets is 1-trip-let 2-trip-let etc.

RLL & Variations
A favourite component of many drum solos, this sticking provides speed and flexibility, with the diddles giving the opposite hand extra time to move around, yielding better speed and efficiency.

RLL RLL LRR LRR
RRL RRL LLR LLR

Flam/Ruff
Usually thrown in as an accent, these simple stickings are effective attention-getters. They also help with developing height control, dynamics, ghost notes, and even Moeller.

I consider familiarity with these concepts to be just a starting point and, hopefully, inspiration to further your drum knowledge.

Photo credit: University Of Washington Libraries Digital Collection

Best Practices (Please No Jokes About The Name)

My last name is low-hanging fruit for schoolyard-style teasing (still is) so it can sometimes be a challenge for me to untangle what is meant by 'best.' But identifying and learning what we call best practices is pretty straight forward, and it can apply to everything we do.

You have your own best practices, honed over a lifetime of experience: how to load the dishwasher, which way the toilet roll goes, etc. It's the procedures you’ve adopted to get the job done quickly and economically without compromising quality and possibly safety. In short, best practices are the most efficient and practical way to do things as well as possible and with no more effort than necessary. Those are the habits you want to develop.

The way to determine a best practice is to try different approaches and then compare. It sounds like a huge task, but in the case of drums, the options are not that extensive and are usually well defined. Analyzing just a few prominent techniques can help you identify which practices have been adequately field tested and were found to reliably deliver the desired result.

Testing and comparing are important tools in making progress. I'm a stickler for field testing. I want to get it out on the job where I can apply some pressure and see how it fares. No matter what quality I may be assessing -- technique, hardware or whatever --  a good field trial will quickly tell me what I need to know. 

I don’t think I’ve seen a top player with a questionable grip, poor technique, inappropriate tuning, or an awkward set-up. They know what’s what. Want to work on your traditional grip? Then study Joe Morello, JoJo Meyer, Dave Weckl. Need to develop your right hand? Check out John Bonham, Tony Williams and Steve Smith. For whatever aspect of your playing you want to work on, there are great players who will show you exactly how they do it every time they play.

Best practices can refine existing practices, make playing easier, prevent injury, and broaden horizons. At the very least, best practices can help to avoid wasting time and following blind alleys. Best practices also tend to be easier to master and usually require less effort overall.

We are all individuals, and what works best for one may not work for another. But in general, you can assume that the techniques you see the better players using are some of best practices available. You just need to find the ones that work best for you.

Photo credit:  Konstantin32 | Dreamstime.com

Drum Psych 101

When I entered university many years ago, I’d become interested in studying the invisible forces that drive human behaviour. And so I majored in psychology (with a minor in philosophy). Along the way I picked up a few principles that we musicians should be aware of.

Operant Conditioning
This principle applies everywhere. Any behaviour that is rewarded is more likely to be repeated. It's how learning works. If you play it right and your teacher praises you, you’ll be happy to play it some more.

Successive Approximation
Most learning happens through baby steps: trial and error. Even when we know exactly what to do, we still must go through the process of trying and failing and trying again. As we rack up more tries, we make fewer errors and so we gradually baby-step our way to the final product.

Proactive Inhibition
We're inclined to automatically do the things we’ve been doing. But to do something different, you may have to first ‘un-train’ the muscles and brain so they can give up what seems so natural and embrace the new. The goal is to set aside the old mindset and imprint a new one,  to convince the brain that it’s OK to let go of the other way.

Dunning-Kruger
This one is rather disturbing. Psychologists Dunning and Kruger (see below) studied test subjects' performance and their perception of how well they had performed. The researchers came to the conclusion that the less capable or competent the respondent, the less able they were to judge their own ability. In other words, people who are less skilled really do tend to think they’re better than they actually are because they don't have sufficient skill or knowledge to accurately assess their level of competence. Solution? Learn more, get better.

Leave It In The Dressing Room
Your mind is often mulling over something that's in your future. It’s called the Reach Back Effect and it happens unconsciously. You can adopt a clear mind-set and focus on the here and now rather than be distracted by upcoming events or other concerns.

Superstitious Behaviour
We humans like superstitions. We even seem to be programmed to manufacture them. If we observe two things happening together, we're inclined to think that they’re related. The more it happens, or seems to happen, the more convinced we become that there is a relationship. No behaviour is immune, as lucky socks owners around the globe will tell you. That said, superstitions beget rituals, and rituals can be beneficial ... as long as you don’t buy into the hype.

Audience Effect
It's great to have an audience. Cheering fans can inspire you to raise your game. But this can also set you back a little. When we have an audience, our performance does in fact improve. That's good. But this only applies to our most ingrained moves. The stuff we've been working on recently may not stand a chance. So you’ll play better, but your playing might not include your latest achievements.

The Hawthorne Effect
Similar to the Audience Effect, this is the tendency to behave differently when someone is watching. The result can be for the better or worse. If you’ve ever played to a room full of drummers, you know what I mean.

Depression
There are two types of depression. Clinical depression is systemic and usually a lifelong condition. Episodic depression is a normal reaction to trauma. The death of someone close or the break-up of a relationship can push someone into a depressed state. It resembles clinical depression except that it's easier to treat and is, thankfully, self limiting. However, what to do in the mean time? Many people like to channel their mood into their music. Note the popularity of drum circles for stress relief. Playing music floods your body with endorphins and can get you away from your current doldrums.

With all these things potentially working against us, taking care of our mental health should be a priority. Knowing what can affect us -- and how -- gives us a means to avoid, or at least cope with, some of the dangers.

More on Dunning-Kruger:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dunning%E2%80%93Kruger_effect
https://www.psychologytoday.com/ca/basics/dunning-kruger-effect

Photo credit: © Agsandrew | Dreamstime.com

The Great Drag/Ruff Conspiracy

Of all the traditional snare drum rudiments, two have had more than their share of drama. The Drag and the Ruff (a.k.a. Dragg, Rough) have been around for centuries, but a lack of documentation has led to some confusion. There have been attempts to clarify the situation, but none have fully resolved the issue. Fast forward to the present day and we have a three-way tie. One ‘official’ list has both, one claims they’re the same, and one leaves the Ruff out entirely. So after a bit of research, I have formed an opinion about the issue.

According to Strube*, the Ruff is two grace notes followed by a single stroke: rrL / llR. This is the Ruff that I learned years ago. Then came another interpretation where the grace notes are played as quick single strokes, so rlR / lrL. There’s also the 4-stroke Ruff, which is normally played as single strokes --  rlrL lrlR -- and it too has variations.

The Drag is more consistent as the grace notes are always diddles. There is also the Half Drag -- rrL / llR -- which is identical to the original 3-stroke Ruff. And then we have the Drag-ruff and the long forgotten Half Ruffe, Whole Ruffe, and Ruffe’n’Half. Hmmm.

Sorting Out the Raw Data
When I compared 10(!) different configurations of the various Ruffs and Drags, a couple of aspects stood out. The Ruff consists of grace notes plus a single stroke, whereas the Drag family always have diddles followed by two or more strokes. So there is a clear demarcation between the two: 2 or more grace notes and a single stroke for the Ruff, and diddles plus two or more single strokes for the Drag.

So:

3-stroke Ruff	4-stroke Ruff	Drag Family
rrL / llR	rlrL / lrlR	rrL-R / llR-L
rlR / lrL	rrlR / llrL	R-llR / AL-rrL
	rlR / lrrL	rrL-R-AL / llR-AL-R
	rrL / lllr	rrL-rrL-R / llR-llR-AL

The Final Analysis

So at risk of raising the ire of the powers that be, I'd like to propose the following solution:

1. Bring back the diddle-driven 3-stroke Ruff and call it a Ruff.
2. Add the 4 (and 5) stroke Ruffs to complete the set.
3. Forget about the Half Drag and the Drag-ruff. The Ruff can replace them both.

And In Conclusion
Here’s what Ryan Bloom has to say on the subject:

“In summary, a modern Ruff is a 3 Stroke Ruff, or a Single Stroke Drag, while a historical Ruff is the same as a Drag, except for when it is a buzzed orchestral Ruff or Rough. A Drag, of course, is the same as a Half Drag because if it were a Full Drag or Single Drag it would be a Drag Tap. This leaves us with the obvious: that a Double Drag is just a Double Drag Tap.”

And here’s how Strube presented it:

Any questions?

For more on drags, ruffs and rudiments, see:

The Percussive Arts Society: https://www.pas.org/resources/rudiments

The National Association of Rudimental Drummers: https://www.nard.us.com/N.A.R.D._Rudiments.html

Gardiner A. Strube: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gardiner_A._Strube

Photo credit: 1265529 © Steve Mann | Dreamstime.com

One Link At A Time

Jerry Seinfeld has a simple method of working that he calls "Don't break the chain." Jerry is a comedian and an author ... in other words, an artist. And just how does such a successful artist achieve his demanding goals. Does he look in a mirror and announce gravely, “I will write eight jokes by 5:00”? No, Jerry takes a more modest and less confrontational approach. On a simple drug-store calendar, he puts an X through each day that he has worked on his craft. His only goal is to see an unbroken chain of X's. And it doesn't matter if it was 3 hours or 3 minutes. It all counts. 

I very much like Jerry's method as it makes it easier to commit to the program. Do something every day -- however small -- and you will move ever closer to your goal. This 'salami’ approach is easy to pull off. Just slice off a bit at a time. No time to practice? Really? Next time you plant yourself in front of the TV, get out the pad and sticks and do a few minutes of hand work*. It may seem almost pointless, but even two minutes done daily can reap significant rewards. The object is to build practice into your daily routine. Consider practice as basic as brushing your teeth.

Be sure you have a flexible schedule, one that lets you breath, one that won't make you feel guilty if you can only manage 5 minutes instead of the planned 20. As long as you don’t break the chain. And keep in mind that you’ll probably be ‘banking’ minutes from time to time.

A nice perk is that this system is much less stressful than setting fixed targets that you may have to miss. I used to beat myself up for not putting in 3 hours a day. Interestingly, when I decided to practice only when I felt like it , I actually ended up practicing more than I expected to. I didn’t feel obliged to put in a lot of time practicing, and the lack of pressure suited me just fine.

So your goal is to practice -- something, anything -- for whatever length of time is available, and to make it a daily commitment. And be sure to keep track on your drug-store calendar.

It’s in the cards URL
A practice program that works very well for me is a stack of 3x5 file cards. I write one exercise on a card along with the parameters I want to cover. You can find the full details here: Stay On Track With A Practice Matrix.

* Watching TV and playing a sticking are two completely different tasks. They require different skills from the brain and can co-exist quite nicely. My teacher always had a pad and sticks set up in his home theatre viewing position.

Photo credit: 594906 © Sun Jeng Tan | Dreamstime.com

 

Let Me Give You A Hand With That

Let’s try a simple experiment. Take a stick in your lead hand and tap single strokes as fast as you can. Then do the same with the other hand . My guess is that your lead hand is somewhat faster. No surprise there. Now play alternating single strokes as fast as you can. You’ll likely find that you can play alternate strokes faster than either hand on its own. It’s a phenomenon called Limb Assistance. That’s when one limb is able to perform better when it’s partnered with another limb. So your single stroke roll should always be faster than your one-handed bounces.

It works the other way as well, something called Limb Inhibition. When practicing, I like to get all four voices involved, and that usually means hi-hat on 2 & 4. But I find that the hi-hat sometimes helps and sometimes hurts. So if it’s interfering with what I'm trying to do, I’ll leave it out. Or I might play it on all four beats ... whatever helps me make progress.

There are four basic options with the hi-hat, any one of which could help with an exercise:

• Play on 2 & 4: This is the ultimate goal and it’s a core skill for drummers.

• Play on 1 & 3: This can help nail down the timing of a difficult pattern.

• Play on all 4 beats: In addition to helping with timing, this gives the other limbs support as you're working toward full co-ordination.

• Omit completely: Sometimes it’s just not going to happen until the other limbs are sorted.

The same thing can apply to any pattern or combination. Say I want to add triple strokes on the bass drum to a rock pattern, but find that I’m struggling. I might add some matching cymbal strokes so the hand strokes mirror the bass drum. The addition of the extra cymbal strokes means the two limbs are now working as a team to better articulate the foot strokes. (I’ll also leave the hi-hat out for now.)

A perennial problem for drummers is when the limbs are supposed to strike together but are just a little bit off. This is where the limbs could be helping each other. Use one limb/voice to act as ‘troop leader’ and show the other limbs where to put it. I look for relationships between what the different limbs are doing in relation to each other. Sometimes the limbs hit together and that can help with co-ordination. Other times, one limb might function as a lead-in for the next stroke. For example, in a shuffle, I think of the ‘uh’ as causing or triggering the next beat: uh-1 uh-2 etc. This is especially helpful with complex patterns.

So, when in doubt, leave it out. Or, if it helps, put it in.

Photo credit: 113417054 © creativecommonsstockphotos | Dreamstime.com

 

So What Exactly is Talent?

 There seem to be two dominant opinions when it comes to the importance of talent. One is that talent is the whole show. The other is that talent doesn't really matter. And, like most big topics, it's not that simple. Still, I think most of us would agree that, whatever talent might be, we’d still like to have more of it.

It's relative
First of all, everyone has at least some talent -- many talents, in fact. If not, we'd all be lost. Even the worst drummer on the planet has a little bit of music aptitude.  But it actually requires a melange of qualities and aptitudes that combine to create 'talent'. So a bit of drumming talent, a bit of music talent, plus a bit of this and a bit of that and you've got a pretty good drummer.

I find that a bell curve can be helpful in understanding a multitude of human characteristics. For any given category, the low end of the curve represents the completely talentless. These people are very, very rare. For example, in my lifetime I've only met one person who was truly tone deaf.

At the other end of the scale are the extremely gifted ... geniuses in many cases. These too are quite rare, the “1-percenters’ in the field. And then there's the rest of us. Some are closer to the top of the bell curve, some are closer to the bottom, and most are somewhere in the middle. The good news is that, statistically speaking, fully half of us are above average!

The Core Abilities
Talented people seem to pick things up faster, more easily and earlier. They are fast, efficient and sometimes precocious learners and may show up as prodigies. They also seem to understand things better and make it a part of themselves almost without effort. Very young performers often give the impression that they've been at it for many years.

In order to capitalize on the no-doubt adequate talents we do have, we just need to feed, nurture, and experiment. It seems to me that we can divide the job into three critical processes or abilities:

1. Accumulate
This is what we do when we study, practice, memorize, listen, etc. Our personal degree of talent for learning has a direct effect on rate and capacity of learning.

2. Assimilate
Play it, own it, make it personal ... because it is. And it's not enough to just know it. You have to internalize and integrate new knowledge with what went before, to see how it fits into the whole.

3. Innovate
Here's where we roll out our natural curiosity and our creativity. What can you do with your skills and knowledge beyond simply reproducing what's gone before?

There’s no up side to worrying about how much talent you have or don’t have. That hard truth is that talent is pretty much fixed and there’s no way of increasing it. But honing what talent you have is freely available to everyone.

“I wasn't talented... but I was relentless!” - Neil Peart

A Few More “Talents” To Nurture
Attitude, sociability, drive, energy, determination (not the same as energy), nurturing, mentoring, dedication, attention , brain power & development, memory,  marketing savvy, to name a few.

Photo Credit: Andrey Kiselev | Dreamstime.com; Mieszko Stanislawski | Dreamstime.com

A Brief, Mostly Factual History Of The Bass Drum

The bass drum has a long and colourful history. When not being used to send long distance messages or intimidate an enemy, it's long been used to keep things moving along in time. Dancers can feel its low tones, the troops can hear its pulse from quite a distance, and everyone enjoys the gut-churning boom-boom-boom of a parade. For contemporary music, the bass drum continues to serve the time keeping function, but its role has evolved to include bombs, shots, counter-rhythms, musical statements, and even gun fire.

The orchestral bass drum was taken into the combo format in the mid-to-late 1800s, with early drum-set pioneers often making their own bass drum pedals as an alternative to double drumming*. A major turning point came in 1909, when drummer–entrepreneurs William and Theobald Ludwig introduced a compact, reliable and affordable bass drum pedal. The impact of this game changer can be heard on recordings starting in the 1920s.

Except during Buddy Rich's early vaudeville career**, bass drums have tended toward smaller. The original field bass drums -- perhaps a 16" head and 18" depth to as large as 24" x 24" -- were impractical for combo use, whereas concert bass drums were quite large and rather shallow. A compact, deeper drum seemed to be the right configuration and so the 32" x 10" gave way to the 22" and then 20” diameter, and 12 or 14 inch depth.

The trend toward smaller bass drums was driven as much by portability as sound. Elvin Jones settled on an 18" bass drum because it fit into a cab nicely (so I’ve heard). Many drummers go a step further and use a 16" drum. The smaller drums yield a more tom-like voice, which is perfect for contemporary jazz.

The '70s introduced a more aggressive style of music, and to facilitate the more aggressive drumming and volume needs, companies began introducing 'power toms' and then 'canon toms'. Bass drums also gained depth. The standard depth went from 14" to 16" and beyond. There are even bass drums with 'square' dimensions (e.g.  22 x 22). Over-large drums -- 26" and 28" -- sometimes make a brief appearance

The word on the street today is that the 20" x 14" may be the ideal general purpose drum. It can provide a whack equal to a 22" drum, and can sound much like an 18" drum when tuned up. The 22” drum has become the standard for most situations, and the 18” is no longer reserved for jazz -- Neil Peart used 18” bass drums for a time

Bass drum choices today cover the entire spectrum, from pancake drums to “super-ultra cannon” monsters. But for the most part, that standard off-the-shelf drum should give you everything that you're looking for.

 

* Double Drumming: In the early days of the drum set’s evolution, players would often play the bass drum with sticks for a tom or double bass effect.

** Buddy's manager–father kept getting bigger bass drums as Buddy grew. He wanted the bass drum to look enormous next to the no-longer-little boy prodigy.

Photo Credit: Wikipedia

Just a Small Town Doc

I never met my father-in-law. My future wife and I had been dating only a few months when he died of pancreatic cancer. So the first time I met my in-laws was at his funeral in a small mid-western town. It was the town where he set up his first medical practice. He chose that town because it was small and it didn't have a doctor. He recognized that small ponds have the same needs as the bigger ponds -- and perhaps an even greater need -- and this was where he felt he could do the most good.

The big fish ensconced in a small pond is usually thought to be undesirable. We'd much rather be a big fish in a more impressive pond. I didn’t grow up in a small town, but it was small enough that if you did anything note-worthy, a lot of people would find out about it. So you had a good chance of becoming 'the one to watch', i.e. a big fish. And everything is pretty cool, until you decide you want to take it further.

So you pack your bags, load up the drums and head for the big city -- just as countless other aspiring players have done. And you’re immediately faced with the more established players, the ones who really are the big fish in this bigger pond. It can be a shock to anyone who has come up in a relatively small scene. And here’s another problem: There usually are more fish in big ponds, and the competition for a place in the queue can be fierce. It's you against some of the best in the business. Thankfully there are many reasons to choose the smaller pond, and they have advantages that are not found elsewhere.

First of all, the smaller ponds might really need someone like you. Just as that small town needed a full-time doctor, there may be a real need for a versatile, competent drummer/musician/entrepreneur. It's possible to make a big impact in an under-served region. A small town music store, for example, may be the only hangout available to local players. And if you’re the one behind the counter, you can become an important hub and a mentor to an entire community.

The smaller pond may have fewer playing opportunities, but there are towns and cities nearby that might have opportunities. Or  you could start your own music scene: open a music school, start a rehearsal band, play at local venues for a share of the gate (great marketing), teach online lessons, offer instrument repair, guest teach at local schools. 

A big pond also means a big city, and maybe you’re not interested in the big pond lifestyle. There are lots of small and medium ponds, and they all need people like you and me.

For additional ideas, see: How to Diversify & Conquer

Photo Credit:  117365656 © Iurii Kuzo | Dreamstime.com

Raising The Bar

What does one do when stuck indoors on a rainy day? Channel surf, of course. First stop is Dr. Phil, where he promises to spend the rest of his life helping a young woman with her self esteem issues. Then it's off to Dr. Oz*, who tells me about the latest medical/lifestyle 'miracle'. OK, one more try, a cooking show, where I'm shown intimate close-ups of someone stirring something in a bowl ... yum, I guess.

Then there’s the drum video touting a “revolutionary” technique that would totally change my playing -- and my life, apparently. It turned out to be a lick that I’ve been using for years. Useful, but hardly life changing ...  and after such a great build-up.

It's a peculiar habit we humans have. We enjoy hyperbole: best ever, mind blowing, LMAO, and so on. At one level, it's simple enthusiasm. When we really, really like something, we wax poetic and throw in overly-flattering words, words that may not really apply.

Another possibility is what psychologists call significance hunger: I want to be part of something significant, impressive, important ... and to potentially reap rewards on top of bragging rights.

Today, being good at something is no longer good enough. Even great is sometimes considered a bit lame. The new norm is that you have to be over-the-top just to show up on the internet radar.

Comedian Louie C. K. has a poignant take on superlatives. He points out that if, for example, you describe the french fries you’re eating as “amazing”, how will you then describe something that truly is remarkable? There really is nowhere to go from the awe-inspiring. And so we’ve fallen into a trap where everything is being presented as "great, tremendous, unbelievable”, something that is guaranteed to blow your mind

It's fine to be enthusiastic and to want to communicate that enthusiasm, and to hang out with the cool people. But this seemingly innocuous escalation affects our outlook significantly. If nothing else, it raises expectations, and that raises the stakes. In order to stand out, everyone has to get with the program in order to not disappoint an audience that no longer appreciates nuance. It also markets an unhealthy concept of excess. Enough is no longer enough. Too much may even fall short. And so we search for, and expect, amazing. In the end, we miss out on a lot of quality stuff if we choose to only listen to the loudest voice.

* I wrote this article a few years ago.

Image Credit: © State Library Queensland

How Important are Sticking Patterns?

To a certain extent, stickings are a drummer’s vocabulary, somewhat equivalent to the scales of melodic instruments. Different stickings result in different sounds and different rhythms, just as different notes result in different melodies and harmonies. And just as different melodies can be extracted from one scale, different sounds and rhythms can be produced using a single sticking.

I'm rather fond of paradiddles, a sticking we all know. They’re very useful, and they provide a good example for illustration. Take the triple paradiddle: R L R L R L R R / L R L R L R L L. A simple way to vary this is to accent some of the strokes:

 

Or you could change the voicing by playing one hand on the hi-hat or bell of a cymbal, and the other on the snare to produce a linear pattern:

 

There's a lot more that you can do with a simple paradiddle, and then there are the various permutations. What this gives us is many options for a single sticking pattern.

So, if one sticking pattern is so amazingly useful, why bother to learn more?

Well the key word here is ‘learn’. There are some stickings that we want to commit to memory as solidly as we can. These are the workhorse stickings. They're the sounds and patterns we rely on day to day. Then there are stickings that are meant only as exercises. It would be difficult to master all of the stickings in, for example, Joe Morello's “Master Studies” book. These types of stickings are meant to get your hands moving, to develop control and endurance, and also to help defeat some of the habits we might have developed. The objective is not to commit to memory more stickings, but to free the hands to go beyond mere learned patterns. They are also meant to motivate us to practice and to keep discovering.

In between are the sticking exercises that turn out to be really useful. The “King Kong” rhythm is a good example:  RLRR  LRRL. It's a good sticking exercise, but a few clever wags (e.g. Dave Weckl, Phil Collins, et al.) decided to play the R strokes on the cymbal and add some syncopated bass drum shots.

At the other end of the scale, Kirk Covington, drummer for Tribal Tech and Volto, claims he only has two sticking techniques: single strokes and double strokes, which is quite something given what he can do on the drums. Kirk apparently doesn’t put much stock in learning a lot of sticking patterns but he knows what works for him.

Photo Credit: Lyudmyla Raynard

Living With The Curse

Once upon a time, I installed some crown molding in the master bedroom. I managed to put up three sides with aplomb. The fourth one ended up being 1/4 inch too short ... and it annoys me to this day.

Sometimes, when I've shared this story, I've been accused of being a perfectionist*. I'm afraid I can't agree. When it comes to some things -- woodworking, for example -- it’s either cut to the right length or it’s not. And sometimes 'close enough' may be all that the jobs needs. Perfectionism needn’t enter into the picture.

For me it’s just competence and pride of craft combined with the needs of the final result. I would much rather have had the molding the proper length, but that day I wasn’t prepared to drive to the store, get another piece, pay for it, and then redo the entire thing. It was easy to patch it up. All it needed was a wee bit of filler and a few minutes work -- cheap, easy and perfectly adequate.

True, I will sometimes edit a blog article 10 times, but that's just my compulsiveness. Or maybe refining the text is practical. For a time I specialized in résumés, and my editing cycle was typically 10 rounds or more. That's one place where aiming for ‘perfect’ -- i.e free of errors -- really is the only proper way. And so the effort is justified.

Getting back to my crown molding, cutting a piece a quarter inch too short is an easy mistake to make -- human error, a minor boo-boo -- and very fixable. The person doing the cutting is not seeking perfect, just a final result that is as good as time, skill, energy, and budget will allow. Again, no perfectionism involved. I like to do things right, and I like to do them well. But I also want a decent return on my efforts.

At bottom, seeking perfection for it's own sake is both folly and problematic. First of all, perfection itself is speculation, a concept without basis, an illusion. It’s not attainable because it doesn’t exist. For any give task, there is no perfect model to refer to. Moreover, perfection is so often in the eye of the beholder.

There are complicated reasons behind our desire for perfection. Most of them stem from deep-rooted psychological issues and the influence of society. As a result, we often pursue perfection for reasons that have nothing to do with the task at hand. And it inevitably drains our energy.

If you're one of those people who strives for excellence but have no problem saying ‘There, done’ then you’re well on your way to a happy, productive life. If, on the other hand, you're often rendered inactive because of the curse of perfectionism, maybe it's time to try saying “Done and done” once in a while.

* In etymological terms perfect originally meant thorough or, simply, finished.     

 

Making Things Personal

It was an after hours open-stage club in the heart of the jazz district, and our budding jazz band had arranged to play a set -- our first venture outside the practice room. The resident drums were just awful: oversized mixed-brand; single-headed toms covered with tape and some god-awful wall paper; loud, heavy, clunky cymbals; and a bass pedal cranked so tight it barely moved. And they sounded as bad as they looked! It was a struggle, but we did our set and got a good reception.

While we were playing, a few of the local jazz heavy-weights came in fresh from their gig. They got up next and it was both magical and perturbing. The drummer, one of my heroes at the time, sounded like he was playing on his own set! True, he had far more experience playing on other people's drums, but that doesn't account for him being able to get virtually the same sounds from that rock'n'roll melange that he got from his own tiny 'jazz' kit.

I've heard this same story from other drummers who’d witnessed a truly great drummer on a borrowed set. These artists seem to carry their sound around with them in their hands. It's quite an accomplishment to have a personal sound, but to be able to evoke it at will from an unfamiliar instrument, well that's just plain astounding. Or is it?

I was unable to find any good sounds in that drum set, but obviously useful sounds were there. In the hands of a more skilled player, the drums became not only better sounding, but more versatile as well. This inspired me to look for the sounds available from my own instruments.

When I play on a strange set, I methodically look for 'my sounds' in the drums and cymbals. They’re probably not in there, but if I root around enough, I can usually find something that sounds a bit like me. Every drum and every cymbal can produce a variety of sounds, and diligent exploration can help you get more out of them than you might have expected.

Take the ride cymbal. You can play near the middle of the bow, near the edge, close to the bell, on the bell. Angle the stick downward slightly or lay it flat on the bow for interesting effects. Try lighter and heavier sticks, or different tip shapes. Try modifying your grip: tighten it, loosen it, move control from finger to finger. Try different types of stroke: straight, glancing, dead-sticking.

That's more than a dozen techniques for you to try just on a ride cymbal. And these ideas can be applied around the drum set. So start experimenting and see if you can find your own sounds as well as some new sounds to add to your palate. 

Listener Friendly Solos (1)

Back in the days of Gene Krupa and Papa Jo Jones, drum solos were simple, with jungle rhythms on the toms and a lot of fancy footwork on the snare. As music became more sophisticated, so too did drum solos. Then we hit the whole 'uber art' decades of bop and neo-bop. Intellectuals with chops to burn set the world on fire while raising the technical bar considerably. But, truth be known, Max Roach could not move an audience quite the same way Buddy Rich could. And the reason was simple: Max created his solos in a more intellectual, perhaps less user-friendly style. Buddy always played to the crowd.

I use a simple formula when I’m writing: audience, content, style. Many people, when they sit down to write, focus too much on style, or they obsess about content. The result is that they may virtually forget about the audience -- the people who might want to read their work. If you want to be read, then you have to make your writing user-friendly.

As musicians, we can fall into this same trap of style and content before everything else. A lot of beginning drummers obsess about speed, licks and chops, sometimes neglecting to study music and music history. Worse, they may play totally for their own amusement or to impress rather than express.

Now, despite the nature of his music, Max Roach said he played for the dancers. He wanted to play music that would move the listeners, to get them ‘on their feet’, if only in spirit. And it worked, despite the limitations that were applied to small clubs at the time(2). 

A great example of playing for the audience is Steve Moore "The Mad Drummer”. You've probably seen Steve in a video titled “This drummer is at the wrong gig.” A very capable player to begin with, Steve decided to specialize in what drives audiences crazy. Why? Well why not? And despite Steve's unorthodox style, he generally doesn't let it mess with the music. 

My suggestion is, next time out -- whether soloing or just playing time -- pay attention to your listeners and try to tell them a story through your instrument. If you get this right, your chops will be put to good use and you'll have a better chance of getting the ‘dancers’ on your side.

 

1 - This is a concept I got from veteran Toronto-based drummer Al Cross. In this video, Al talks about studying with Joe Morello.

2 - In 2017, New York City repealed its Cabaret Law. The law went into effect in 1926 and it banned dancing in clubs without the appropriate license, which many clubs -- primarily small jazz clubs -- could not afford. So Max really was playing for the dancers, even when they couldn't dance.

Everything I Know About Bearing Edges

It began decades ago, when I noticed that the profiles of a lot of bearing edges didn’t seem to match the profiles of plastic drum heads that were available. So I began playing around with bearing edges, and have continued to study their role in a drum’s sound.

Here’s what I think I've learned so far.

Close To The Edge
In the beginning, bearing edges were a nice-to-have, but not that big a deal. “Close enough” was close enough because calf-skin heads would always fit themselves to the drum. Plastic heads are not so accommodating. It's also not uncommon for a vintage drum to have somewhat irregular bearing edges, perhaps due to low tolerances at the factory, uneven shrinking of the shell material or physical damage. Such drums will be hard to tune unless given a bit of TLC.

Not All Created Equal
Modern drums are better suited to the profile of plastic drum head collars, but good design and quality control are not a guarantee of bearing edge excellence. You're right to expect perfection in a $1000+ instrument. However in the lower price tiers, the edges will naturally have received less attention. There’s a cost attached to bearing edges, and the labour costs will be reflected in the price of the drum. That said, a reasonably well made drum can often be 'up-cycled' by giving it a good bearing edge treatment just as a modest acoustic guitar can be improved with a high quality bridge saddle. The bearing edge is, after all, the drum's 'bridge'.

I'm So Confused
And so you should be. Options you may hear about bearing edges include: round-over, 30 degree, 45 degree, dual-45, reverse 45,  45 with round-over, bull-nose, baseball bat, vintage round-over. There are also different theories, applications, claims, boasts, and myths. 

Yes, It Really Does Matter
An uneven bearing edge can be a nightmare, but a 'proper' bearing edge may not be right either. The edge profile can have a significant effect on tone and other factors, including: resonance, brightness, tessitura, sustain, body, and volume. Most drum makers these days tailor the bearing edges to the style and economics of the drum -- e.g. vintage style edges on vintage style drums -- or perhaps they finish them to a house standard, “That Great Gretsch Sound” being one example. Some companies even offer a choice of bearing edges.

My advice is to not worry about it unless there are visible defects in the bearing edge or you're befuddled by a drum's behaviour. You can find a lot of information about bearing edge properties online. There are also videos that can show you how to check your bearing edges, and if there is an issue, a drum tech can help. It's also not that hard an exercise for a do-it-yourselfer ... again, lots of videos on this.

Photo by Gfilms

 

Cymbal Guarantees

Most quality products come with a guarantee or warranty these days. Cymbal companies too have warranties on their products. That means, if it breaks, they first of all want to know about it, and if it’s a quality issue they'll very likely send you a new cymbal.

But the breakage has to be their fault.

At one time, cymbal breakage was rare. People just plain played much less aggressively. And, to some extent they seemed to value their instruments more than seems to be the case with quite a number of contemporary players. Most companies will guarantee a newly purchased cymbal against certain types of breakage, but it ends there. If a player breaks a replacement cymbal, all love is lost and the cymbal will not be replaced. The rational is that the owner/player must be doing something wrong or just plain abusing their bronze.

If you find you're breaking a lot of cymbals, have a look at your cymbal set-up and how you hit. Your cymbals should be the correct size and weight for your music, and set up so that hitting with a glancing blow is the default.

Cymbal abuse comes in many forms, but the biggest issues are:

• Improper mounting,
• Too light for the job,
• Over-playing leading to fatigue,
• Hitting too hard,
• Hitting directly on-axis. 

Warranty Statements
Warranties are always limited. In the case of a cymbal, the maker will replace it if it is a manufacturing fault. There’s also a time limit, usually one or two years from the original date of purchase. That's pretty decent considering you're going to be beating these things regularly.

Sample Cymbal Warranty - from https://www.trurootcymbals.com. (Edited for length and clarity; emphasis added)

• Limited 1-Year from the date of purchase
• After inspection, [if] it is determined that your cymbal failed under normal use, a replacement will be provided. Typically, if a crack appears along the lathe lines it would fall under the scope of [the] warranty.
• Warranty does not cover any misuse. If a crack appears cutting through the lathe lines, it would fall outside of the warranty, as the damage would have been caused from misuse.

To Claim A Warranty
If you feel the failure was due to defects in the material or workmanship, pack up the cymbal and dig the receipt out of the shoe box. Take both to the place of purchase or to another authorized dealer for that brand. The rep at the music store should be able to guide you through the process, and can arrange for the cymbal to be sent for evaluation and possible replacement.

The Reject Pile
Your claims may be rejected for any of the following reasons:

• Excessive force or abuse (multiple cracks, edge cracks and cracks around the bell)
• Improper transport or storage
• Cymbals that have been dropped
• A product that has been altered in any way

So take care of your cymbals and chances are your cymbals will take care of you.

Photo by Tompet80,  Dreamstime.com

A Brief History of the Butt Plate (plus some other stuff)

The coiled-steel snare wire is a wonderful invention, and a huge improvement over, uh, animal parts. But making it happen required the simultaneous invention of the snare End Plate (1) and it's introduction opened a can of worms.

The original snare 'wires' were made of leather, usually some type of gut (intestine linings: sheep or goat ... not cat). When coupled with thin leather heads, gut snares worked well. All that was needed was a bit of relief in the rim and at the edge of the drum shell and all was well. Ordinary humidity would ensure that both the head and the gut snares would mould themselves perfectly to the Snare Bed (2) profile.

With the introduction of the butt plate, the game changed completely. Because snare wires are made of metal, they must be firmly attached to something that's strong enough to hold them. The standard butt plate is a slice of metal slightly wider than the set of wires and around 1/2-inch deep. It's metal (plastic was tried for a time, but soon abandoned) and it doesn't flex. So, where you once had soft, flexible gut strands that easily conformed to the leather drum head, you now have two chunks of inflexible metal that sit right plunk on the snare head at both sides of the drum. And that's a problem.

After the introduction of plastic heads and metal snares, the Snare Gate (3) was made larger, but the snare bed remained almost unchanged for a long time. There are even a few modern snare drum makers that still use old-style snare beds -- fairly deep and only marginally wider than the snares themselves. I might mention here that plastic drum heads don't sit well on deep, narrow snare beds. Double jeopardy.

There were some very creative attempts to solve the problem that mainly involved changing how the snares were attached to the drum. Leedy, Slingerland and a few others added a Snare Bridge (4) outside the snare gate at each side of the drum. The snare cords/straps traveled over the guide and ran parallel to the snare head when they entered the snare gate. This kept the butt plates from pressing into the head.

The Rogers Drum Company decided to mount the snares in a rack that kept the butt plates off the snare head. This trick had a second advantage: The horizontal snare tension could be adjusted separately from the vertical tension. Original Rogers ‘Dynasonic’ snare drums are still highly prized and have recently been reintroduced.

Another approach was to run the snares all the way across the snare head and completely out each side. Drums such as the Premier 2000, the Ludwig Super-Sensitive and the Tama King Beat have a beam running through the shell to hold the snare mechanism -- and the butt plates -- well outside the drum head area. Of course the objective was to have a fine degree of control both vertically and horizontally, but getting the butt plates off the head was also a priority. (Some of the ‘bracket-rigged’ drums incorporated snares that extended beyond the shell edges, but the results were unimpressive.)

As for the mounting holes in butt plates, some real science has gone into this, and also into the design of the butt plates themselves. Slots, channels, lifters, bends, and what have you ... who'd have thought that something so small and simple could have such an impact.

(1) Butt Plate/End Plate - A metal plate to which individual snare wires are attached. A set of snares has a butt plate at each end. Holes provide a means of attaching the snares to a drum.

(2) Snare Bed - Snare drum shells usually have two regions where the bottom bearing edge has been cut away to produce shallow channels at the edges of the snare head, allowing the snares to lie on the head more evenly. The width and depth of the snare bed can have a dramatic effect on snare response and also tone. Note that snare wires should be selected to match the profile of the snare bed.

(3) Snare Gate - Openings in the bottom rim of a snare drum that allow the snare attachments to pass through.

(4) Snare Bridge/Extension Bracket - A metal bracket attached to one or both sides of a snare drum that guides the snare strings through the snare gate. Provides something like a parallel snare effect and also allows fitting longer snare wires to the drum to eliminate the effect of an end plate. Snare bridges are pretty much obsolete.

Photo © Christoph Hähnel (Dreamstime ID 18749883)

We’ve Got Something To Say

When I was a young adult and living in the big city, I was fortunate to be able to see some great drummers on a regular basis. One night, while sitting at a club not far from where I lived, one of my favourite local players came off the stage and made his way to my table. He was not his usual smiling self, and as he sat down he said, “Some people just got nothin’ to say.” It was a life-altering moment. Up until then, drumming for me consisted of learning things off of records and practicing technique out of a book. You mean you can actually ‘say stuff’ with your instrument?

This principle came to mind recently when I heard three prominent ‘shredders’ on the radio. All three guitarists were known for their inhuman speed. Two of them seemed to be able to integrate speed nicely into the music… but the third? Well, I thought he sounded like he had some sort of quota to fill.

Much of player three’s soloing was merely fast. The speedy bits tended to dominate and often came across as not much more than filler. In general, the solo lacked contrast, dynamics, musical expression , and forward motion … i.e. nothin’ to say (at least, on that recording).

Player number two used speed as a contrast to a more melodic style of playing. Most of the solo was energetic and musical. And when there was an occasional blistering riff, it could be a bit of a jolt. But it always seemed appropriate. This type of contrast introduces instability -- an important quality in music -- which is then be resolved into something moderate.

Player number one (Alan Holdsworth, actually) used speed liberally. And when he did toss off a flurry, it always seemed to have a purpose, it always seemed to be going somewhere.

I find in my own playing that, when I try to be clever and show off a bit of speed, I’m more concerned about my playing than the music. And it shows. But when I try to put, for lack of a better word, expression into my playing, it usually goes more slowly and a lot better. And it feels a lot better too.

Speed is useful, speed is important, and used in moderation it can add a lot of colour and energy to our music. Speed itself is exciting and can be used to great effect, but when it’s continuous it becomes less interesting and can even be tiring for the listeners and others.

Photo credit: 912982 Erikreis, Dreamstime.com