Busted!

There's really no excuse for breaking a cymbal. Let me repackage that: There is no excuse for repeatedly breaking cymbals. Cymbals are incredibly strong. They're made from bronze, virtually the same metal used for motor bearings and the props of ocean-going ships. When chosen, handled and played properly, cymbals can last a lifetime. That doesn't mean that your favourite cymbal won't develop a crack or suddenly cast off a fragment of metal. It happens, but if it's happening often, you're doing something wrong. 

The sad truth is that cymbals cannot be fixed. Chips and chunks can't be put back. Cracks cannot be welded without destroying the temper of the cymbal. But if not attended to, a crack will simply continue to spread until the cymbal is hanging in shreds.

You can have an expert drill, cut or grind out a damaged portion of a cymbal. Or do it yourself if you're good with power tools. This can salvage a treasured instrument, but it is no cure -- the cymbal is still broken. While such a repair can slow down further deterioration for quite some time, it likely won't stop it. And if the damage is not attended to, the cymbal will soon be lost.

For a crack, the usual remedy is to drill a hole at the very end of the crack. Then, if the crack decides it wants to spread, it has to jump over the gap first. This technique may stop a crack completely, but usually it merely slows it down.

A crack ought to be removed completely. A skilled repair person will use some sort of router to cut a bell shaped piece out of the cymbal that's about 1/4 inch larger than the crack on all sides. As with drilling, this may be a cure or merely a band-aid.

A crack that consumes a large part of the cymbal or that has gone along one of the tone grooves requires a more aggressive approach. Such cymbals are often cut down to a different diameter. Thus an 18-inch cymbal with a 2-inch crack might get cut down to 14 or 13 inches.

Chips and small cracks can be dealt with by excising a large region of the cymbal where the damage occurred. Rather than having a small bell-shaped notch in the edge, the cymbal would look more like a cookie with a bite out of it.

Hopefully this discussion of cymbal "repair" has convinced you that prevention is a far better option. So choose cymbals that can handle the job, mount them loosely on their stands, and don't beat up on them too much.

Hey, Hey We’re the Studio Cats

I recently watched an interesting and entertaining video called "The Wrecking Crew". It's the story -- with lots of interviews -- about the coven of ace studio musicians who created almost all of the pop and rock music that came out of California in the ‘50s and ‘60s.

One item that piqued my interest was the Crew's involvement with The Monkees. So I got hold of a “Monkees Greatest Hits” album and listened. The Monkees themselves sang all the songs -- with some success -- but the arrangements and bed tracks were all by the Crew. With only one or two exceptions, the tracks are fabulous and well worth a listen.

These tunes were recorded in a different time in musical history. For the most part, bands back then had no control over song writing (and often song selection), arranging, recording or producing. That was all left to 'professionals'. True, many of the early rock musicians didn't have the training and experience to do the necessary job under the circumstances. Studio time was very expensive, and record executives didn't want to pay for that new band to learn the ropes. Better to go with what you know will work.

So a writing team wrote the tunes, often specifically for the artists. The musical director and producer called in their 'go to' arrangers and players -- the people they knew could create a sellable track in a couple of hours. It wasn't unusual for such a crew to churn out as many as three finished songs before lunch.

The result of this intensive work was a golden age of pop music, when top studio crews created hit after hit. While the industry has changed dramatically in the intervening 50+ years, the practice is still preferred for a lot of studio work.

In the late 1960s, bands with clout, bands  like The Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Rolling Stones and others, were able to take ownership of the recording process. While the Wrecking Crew turned out hits ranging from You've Lost That Loving Feeling to Daydream Believer to Good Vibrations, the other method gave us A Day In The Life, Sympathy For The Devil, and Tommy. 

Obviously there is room, and a need, for both approaches.

In Praise of Big Drum Companies

I’m a big fan of custom and artisanal drum makers, but that does not diminish my enthusiasm and admiration for the big companies. Where would the small drum makers be if the big guys hadn't done so much of the groundwork over the years. Reliable bass drum pedal? It started with Ludwig. What about double bass pedals? Well, the 1927 Sonor catalogue shows one. In fact, most of what you see on modern drums was invented, refined, promoted, and/or championed by a large company.

Resources
Big companies bring a lot to the table, not the least of which is machinery. They have all the tools needed to create stuff: tube cutters, metal benders, lathes, and the like. Plus they have a lot of research and expertise derived from years and perhaps generations of drum building. They also have a pretty good idea of what won't work. Oh ... and they have some talented bodies and significant R&D budgets to play with.

Team Work
Pretty much since day one, companies have leapt at the chance to work with drummers, and perhaps the greatest contribution the big companies made was to listen to the players. Particularly during the first half of the 20th century, drummers asked for changes, and the companies made those changes. Gene Krupa wanted dual tension toms. Leedy made them for him. Big band drummers asked for larger, more powerful cymbals. Zildjian enthusiastically obliged.

Field Testing
An important part of the process is making sure it works. A big company is in a good position to hand out prototypes to see how they function and how they're received. This is a process that all the big companies follow. The artist would make a request. They would make the item and then the artist would field test it. Not quite right? Here are a few more to try. This field-testing and tweaking process is responsible for the broad range and high quality of instruments and hardware that we have today. 

Marketing
A good idea is just an idea if nobody hears about it. A marketing budget can easily include that hot new product, and then get the message out to drummers who have been looking for a solution.

Quality, Price Points & Guarantees
The big guys have experience with quality control and pricing. They can create products that perform to a predetermined level, and can cater to just about any budget. And their items invariably come with a guarantee.

So I guess the final word here would be Thanks!

Adaptive Anticipation or What comes next?

Adaptive Anticipation -- This is my own somewhat overblown term for controlling the sticks in a manner that anticipates subsequent strokes. It also refers to using the time between strokes to move the sticks to where they need to be. So while it's important to know how to make a certain stroke, a certain sound, it's equally important to know what sort of stroke comes next.

Let’s look at the infamous Moeller stroke. It consists of a 'down stroke' and an 'up stroke'. The down stroke is a full-length stroke executed with power, but with no rebound -- the stick tip remains close to the head. This is not a very useful position if you want to make another full-volume stroke, but it's ideal for a tap. Part two of the Moeller is to tap the stick and then lift it back up in preparation for another fuller stroke. Each type of stroke gets ready for what is to follow: The up stroke is a consequence of the down stroke just as the down stroke prepares for the up stroke.

Now let's look at paradiddles. If we play an accented first stroke, we add impetus. If we then keep the stick close to the head, it prepares us for the diddle, which is difficult to play with full strokes. The diddle also buys us lots of time for raising the other stick. This gives you a strong down stroke, followed by three lesser volume strokes, and plenty of time to get ready or the next figure.

So …
        R = Full down stroke while lifting the Left hand
        L = Half stroke
        RR = 2 Taps while lifting the Left hand
        L = Full down stroke while lifting the Right hand
        R= Half stroke
        LL = 2 Taps while lifting the Right hand

I like to use a billiard analogy. You can just whack the cue ball and hope for the best, but serious pool players put a lot of effort into controlling where the cue ball ends up. It's important to make the shot, but if you're not preparing for the next shot, your game will suffer. Same with your strokes.

I think in terms of down & up, slow & fast, accented & unaccented, and modify the end of my strokes appropriately. If I need to make two loud strokes in a row, then I'll use full strokes*. I'll make the stroke and let the stick rebound back to the top of the range. Then my stick is ready for the next stroke.

Down strokes prepare for lighter strokes; up strokes prepare for louder strokes, and free strokes prepare for another loud stroke. So get out some sticks and start lining up your next shot.

Cymbal Minds

Dave Millar is a man on a mission. Dave came across a unique cymbal brand a couple of years ago and was so impressed that he just couldn't wait for them to be available in Canada. So he contacted the company. They weren't ready for market expansion at the time so Dave, who has years of business and sales experiences, said "What the heck ... I'll do it" (or something to that effect) And so Mirat Diril Canada was born.

First a bit about Murat Diril. Murat and his brother Ibrahim began their cymbal making careers in 1984 at Istanbul Cymbal Company (which split into Istanbul Mehmet and Istanbul Agop in 1997). They started their own cymbal business in 2008 and began making cymbals for other companies, mainly Paiste and Meinl. Murat developed Meinl's Byzance line and Paiste's Twenty Series cymbals. Today Murat puts his own name on the Turkish-made cymbals.

I could go on at length about Murat Diril cymbals. They are, in a word, wonderful ... what you'd expect from a first rank cymbal maker. The company currently produces three broad lines of cymbals, and each line has several series. The instruments are categorised by intended use as well as general style. I tried a couple of dozen cymbals covering most of the range, and it was tough to exclude any of the cymbals from consideration. (The 20" Renaissance Flat Ride just blew me away and the 17" Crash/Trash was awesome.)

The good news here is that the pricing is in line with other top-quality cymbals -- not cheap but not overly expensive -- and there are some bargains to be had, especially in the Renaissance line.

Now here's the cool part. Murat Diril cymbals are now available in Canada three years ahead of schedule thanks to Dave. And, rather than trucking his samples from music store to music store, Dave is reaching out to drummers directly. Now, if I were to design a cymbal business, I would do exactly what Dave is doing. He has set up a sampling studio (just north of Toronto) where drummers can stop by and try the cymbals undisturbed. Dave, as host, helps with matching and selection. I think this is the proper way to select cymbals.

Part of Dave's outreach program is to recruit champions (he calls them Local Heroes) -- drummers who are enthusiastic about the cymbals and who would like to feature them in their own studios. Here's how it might work. I have a home-based teaching studio. If enough of my students are interested in the cymbals, then I could act as an agent. Dave would supply me with a stock of cymbals and I would get a commission on any cymbals I sell to my students. I could also make my studio available to locals who want to try them.

So stop by the Murat Diril website, listen to the sound files, and if you like what you hear, get in touch with Dave to arrange a hands-on session or consultation.

Muratdiril.ca

Check Your Ego

You probably thought I was going to finish with ‘at the door’, but your ego is actually a very important part of who you are. So it might be productive to check your ego to see if it’s in good shape and functioning properly.

Ego can be thought of as just another word for self-esteem, and we know that’s important. Self-esteem is what gives you the courage, the confidence you need to make it through life. Confidence helps you ask for a try-out for a band you admire. It’s also what enables you to play your best.

But confidence can be a hindrance when it’s out of synch with reality. If you’re a terrific player but lack sufficient confidence, you may never play as well as you could, and you may never get to where you could have gone if you hadn’t been hindered by self-doubt.

We’re all familiar with the other extreme: too much confidence. At its mildest, it’s the guy who’s a bit too cocky about his playing.  At its worst, it’s the arrogant SOB that no one wants to be around.

In my experience, the relationship between an out-of-whack ego and technical capability is often inverse. The biggest egos I've met have usually turned out to be so-so players, whereas some of the best players around are also the most humble. (It would be interesting to work the ‘chicken or egg’ paradigm here.)

The best approach is to honestly assess where you are in your drumming development. You may want to get a wiser, perhaps older musician to help you with this. It can be a real confidence booster when someone tells you you’re doing better than you realize. However, it’s more difficult to have someone point out that your playing doesn’t live up to your ego. The good thing is that either type of feedback can make you stronger and a better player.

Beyond the Notes

Writers obsess over a single word, architects obsess over a single line, athletes obsess over a single motion. So what should drummers obsess over once we have a command of the basics?

Oddly, perhaps ironically, what we need to work on most is the most basic function of all: time, or more correctly, timing. I often see players -- young and old, accomplished and otherwise -- who have picked up the notes in a general sense, but while all the bits appear to be there, for some reason it doesn't seem to work. Just as the composer looks for notes that fit, the drummer should be looking for the strokes that fit. Sometimes drummers will play a lick that may not be suited to the music. Perhaps it's a matter of personal style, but as often it's a disconnect between what can be done and what should be done. But if the lick is appropriate to the style but still doesn't work, then it's usually a question of timing or 'micro-timing'.

The goal is to play with others … as an ensemble. And what holds the ensemble together is that irresistible core of time. If everyone plays the time -- all the time -- then it will work. Now comes the challenge. When you want to add an embellishment to the music, you still are responsible for the time. Everything you do that is not 'playing time' is an interruption of the time. When appropriate and well executed, these interruptions in the flow can be awesome. And when not, they can really toss a wrench into things.

A drummer who tends to speed up or slow down during a fill will throw off the band and the music. Someone who plays the 'correct' notes for a fill but doesn't fit them seamlessly into the framework of the time also makes a bit of a mess. I hear a lot of drummers playing figures that don't work because they are simply un-true to the actual note values. The patterns seem to be correct sticking-wise, but the internal timing is off. The result is that the tune never quite clicks because the drums keep interfering with the time.

So what's the answer?

First of all, listen. And when you choose to depart from the time, listen even more. Try to make your patterns fit tightly, especially with the bass line. Listen to the great drummers to see how their fills fit in. Study, practice, and maybe even take lessons to learn the various note values and to understand how they all fit together.

Articulation

Miss Manners would certainly advise that you shouldn't talk with your mouth full. There's the visual aspects, to be sure, but there's also the issue of garbled speech with the attendant lack of actual communication. Better to have your vocal system free of debris if you want to be heard clearly and be understood.

Articulation -- the clarity of sound -- is also found in music. There are even musical terms to help describe articulation: staccato, marcato, tenuto, slur, accent, sforzando, legato, and others. Each one gives the player an instruction on how the notes are to be played in order to fit the music.

Imagine if the guitar player or the singer routinely played inaccurate or garbled notes. We'd never tolerate bad notes, sloppy chords and a general lack of caring about doing it right. Unfortunately it's all too easy for a drummer to get away with poor articulation.

Sloppy technique helps to cover up a lot of shortcomings. One trick is to use scratch rolls. Rather than a clean, simple fill, you hear a nondescript bzzzzt. There are some music styles where this might work, but usually the rest of the band will be looking for precise rhythmic statements.

If your notes aren't clear, they can't be heard properly, and nobody will be able to tell if you're placing the notes accurately within the metre, and this obscures the time pulse. As long as you end up somewhere close to the beat, it'll do -- at least that seems good enough for some people. Mushy sounding tuning makes this even easier to pull off. You cannot articulate clearly on a drum that's tuned below its useful range.

Articulation is also an important part of your style. You can spot certain drummers by their articulation alone. Buddy Rich and Bill Bruford are easy to pick out just by the way they make a sound.

So make it a personal goal to speak clearly, both off and on the stage.

Got to be Free

I've read a bit of somewhat negative commentary lately on the nature of jazz and whether it’s relevant or even worthwhile today. Nothing new there. I think most music genres are difficult to truly sort out, and jazz is especially so, in part because so many people who don't understand it attempt to explain it nonetheless. Like the blind men trying to describe an elephant, the result can be a nonsensical jumble.

Personally, I would rather play jazz than any other music style. It's not because I'm particularly good at it, or that I necessarily enjoy it more. To be honest, some of my most memorable and rewarding playing moments have been laying into a deep country groove (and some of my worst moments have been while attempting to play jazz). There's nothing quite like locking in with a solid groove. But though it may feel great, there's often not a lot of room for branching out. Perhaps that's why it's called locking in: you're locked in!

So maybe there's nothing truly new in jazz -- nor in most art forms. The great strides and discoveries were made long ago, and about all we can look forward to now is 'creative repackaging'.

Does that mean that jazz is repetitious and boring? Far from it. Yes, it's all been done before, but with that rhythm? With that feeling? With that instrument? In that time signature? The various parts, though already well explored, can still go together to create something novel, possibly even new.

When I look hard at what I love about jazz, I'm left with three things. The first is improvisation: the cornerstone of jazz. And what is improvisation but permission to do whatever the heck you feel like doing. So the primary attraction is freedom. When playing jazz, I'm answerable to no one. I can do what I think and feel is right for the music and for me in that moment. I can't think of any other situation where I have that kind of freedom.

The second factor is the challenge. And jazz is very challenging. I think all music can be challenging (I also think we should always look for the challenge therein) but with jazz, becoming even a passable player is a tall order. To me, the biggest challenge -- and biggest thrill -- is to constantly improve technically and musically, and with ever greater empathy for the music and musicians.

Finally, there is joy, and I see it in the faces and body movements of just about every jazz musician. We love this stuff … it really is the best kind of high. Plus it's legal, non-fattening and sometimes it even pays the rent.

Let a Few Go By

I love seeing drummers with a ‘unique’ sense of musical taste. They can also be a great source of both good and bad examples. This time I'm thinking about a very energetic fellow who nailed all the shots, all the patterns, every time, in every tune. It was very impressive. It was also rather busy and a bit tiresome. As a result, none of the musical figures were allowed to stand on their own or to rise above the drums because there were no holes, no spaces, and thus, no intrigue. 

An important part of our job is to help define, support, punctuate, and otherwise draw attention to musical figures. This can be done in a variety of ways, only one of which is to play the entire figure. Most drummers will instead opt to play a sub-set of the figure, possibly highlighting the accented parts. It’s also OK to ignore them completely.

Space is a very important musical concept. Space is what keeps everything from happening at once, and without space, music can become a monotonous blur. There are some styles where hitting all the shots works, but even in the most extreme cases, there should still be space for contrast.

Admittedly, it's tempting to fill all the holes, and no musician is immune to the urge. Sometimes this is the ideal thing to do, but overdo it and the music will sound more like a drum feature (or vocal or guitar feature).

Of course, being able to play all the figures is quite an accomplishment. It takes a lot of work to memorize and co-ordinate all that stuff. So it's no wonder that we'd want to show it off a bit. OK, point taken. But I still would prefer a more sparse approach.

So trim back the figures and let a few go by. You may even like the result.

To Click or Not To Click

Whenever the discussion turns to click tracks, drummers like to cry foul (usually accompanied by a sour face). For many drummers, the use of a click track is unnatural, cheating, insulting, or all three. I'm afraid I can't agree.

A drummer's prime responsibility is to keep time. Unfortunately, keeping steady, unwavering time is hard to do. My own journey required countless hours working out with metronome and bass tracks. Unless you were born with a perfect sense of time (which is about as common as perfect pitch) you probably need to work on your time sense now and again.

So is using a click track ‘unnatural’? Yes, but only if you consider good time to be unnatural. I agree that, in a live setting, music can benefit from being allowed to breathe. But even that assumes that you and your fellow musicians can keep time once you've settled into a tempo.

Insulting? If your time is not that good, then a click track should be humbling, and a pretty loud wake-up call. If whoever is in charge simply doesn't trust you (or others) to play in time, then a click track is the best solution. There is also a tendency for musicians to push up the tempo once they become familiar with a tune. This can be even worse if the musicians are getting bored or tired (note how often the 'live' version is played a lot faster than the original studio version).

There are situations where keeping everyone in line is vital to a successful project. A record producer may be adding different tracks with different people at different times and different places. This process would be nearly impossible without a click track.

The best attitude is to simply look at the click track as a tool. It's there to help. It's a consistent and reliable guide. So rather than fight it, why not treat the click as just another member of the band. If you play well with the click, you'll find that it will virtually disappear. And if it doesn't, well maybe it's time to dust off that metronome.

Fear of Trying

The evening started out rather rough. I'd had a tough day; the venue wasn't ready with the loading help they'd promised (3 flights of stairs!); the singer and keyboard player were having a turf war about how to approach a new song; and the bass player was understandably unhappy with it all.

So our first set, while apparently just fine from the audience's point of view, was a bit of a slug for us, and I had to work extra hard to get the crew working as a team.

Now I firmly believe that a drummer best serves the band by pulling the parts together. In fact a lot of musicians call us the ‘glue’ that holds things together. I find it a rewarding role, and not especially difficult … usually.

So, when something is off, it's still my job to make it all work as seamlessly as possible. But, frankly, I'd rather not have to do a speck more hard labour than is necessary. You see, I can't play well if I'm loaded down with extra work. This is not the same as working hard -- that's a rewarding part of the process. The work I'm talking about is the energy-draining type that ends up sucking you dry.

“If things don’t go well with the drummer I’m left with an incredibly sore lower back by the end of the gig, the product I suppose of trying to force the music into a smooth, relaxed flow” -  Steve Swallow

Jazz bassist Steve Swallow knows the pain of working too hard. It's not the bass player's job to carry the drummer, nor vice versa. It's just too much work, and the music will always suffer. Plus it can affect all the players -- physically as well as emotionally.

The best playing situation for me is when I can just relax and do my job. My head is more in the game, I'm free to let out my creativity, and I'm not afraid to step outside from time to time since I know the band will be there when I get back. It doesn't mean I'm not working hard, but my best effort can go toward making better music rather than labouring just to cope. 

So working hard? Go for it. But hard work? Once I hear that count-in, I’ve got better things to do.

There's some very hip stuff in those old traditions

I've never been involved in any sort of military drumming ... just not my thing. But I've studied enough rudiments and drum theory to know what it's about. And while I may not want to play in this style, I get a real kick out of listening to it and especially from watching how it’s done. I think some of the greatest drum technicians and entertainers around are to be found in the military tradition.

Two main features of drum corps playing are incredible chops and an extreme team approach to the job at hand (all while maximizing showmanship). Note also that these bands play long orchestrations, and they do it flawlessly -- and from memory. Not a bad policy for any sort of activity.

Another feature of corps drumming is that each style of marching band has a tradition that ranges from fairly modern to downright ancient. Go see a military tattoo these days and you'll see rudimental bands playing tunes by Michael Jackson, Led Zeppelin or Daft Punk. Originally an attempt to attract a new audience by trying to appear more hip, this has evolved into a tradition of its own alongside the rudimental displays.

Many rudimental orchestras seem to concentrate on being nothing short of astounding. If you've not done so already, check out the Top Secret Drum Corps (topsecretdrumcorps.com) or the Blue Devils (bluedevils.org). If you’re a fan of excellence in any form, you’re bound to love this stuff.

One of my favourites is Basel drumming (Basel Switzerland is home of Top Secret Drum Corps). At least 500 years old, this style is unlike anything you've heard before. While they play many of the standard rudiments, they frequently throw in things that seem to have come from another planet. And always while wearing a traditional Fasnacht Festival mask (tinyurl.com/jk3xehs).

Last but certainly not least, these players have incredible technique, usually achieved through years of intensive study and training. And a lot of that training is on view any time on YouTube and elsewhere. I especially like Scott Johnson’s hand development clips (check out scojopercussion.com).

So even if it's not your thing, spend some time checking out drums corps. At the very least, you'll be impressed.

Drum Making in the 21st Century

The modern drum set is approaching its 100th anniversary. When I say ‘modern’ I'm thinking of the full complement of drums ... the assemblage of cymbals, hardware and paraphernalia that didn't exist before, say, the 1930s. It's interesting that what must be the oldest instrument known to mankind has taken so long to perfect. And there's still room for improvement.

So the way I see it, there are no rules and no one way. Just look at the proliferation of snare drums, cymbals, bass pedals and custom drums on offer these days. And even though there appears to be enough variety to satisfy every drummer and every situation, the companies, big and small, just keep coming up with more.

Part of this is in response to the ever-changing nature of music. New music often requires new sounds, and players are always looking for new sounds. And then there are the old sounds, the ones that used to be in favour years ago. Note the number of new cymbal lines branded as "vintage".

These changes are driven partly by need, partly by fashion, and partly by technology. It's much easier today to create new products. For example, when cymbals were made totally by hand, a new model might take weeks or months to develop. Today automated cymbal factories can churn out prototypes in a matter of hours. True, it might take a while to get it just right, but the process is a lot less painful.

We're also seeing so-called custom drum brands popping up all over the globe. Anyone can purchase quality parts on-line and create drums in a workspace no bigger than a walk-in closet.

The result of all this is that we drummers can choose from an astounding array of options and at any price point. Anything goes. And in general, the quality of the products is as high as it's ever been. The only downside that I can see is that we can't "have it all". Where would we put it?

Stay On Track With A Practice Matrix

It's a problem as old as human existence: How do we keep track of all the things we need to do and how do we make sure they get done without getting overwhelmed or confused or losing items through the cracks?

Entire industries have grown up around this problem, but so far I've yet to see a formalized system for easily setting and staying on a drum practice schedule. I've tried a number of methods, and whether it's for practicing my instrument or managing the rest of my somewhat chaotic life, it sometimes seems like a lost cause.

Lately I've turned to a system I used back in university to manage research papers, and which I've kept using whenever I need to manage a lot of disparate items: 3 x 5 cards. It really began just as a means to jot down practice ideas. Then the cards began to stack up. So I punched holes in them and put them on a ring. I could then page through the cards while working on the various ideas.

For example, here's my card layout for “4-Way Coordination: A Method Book for the Development of Complete Independence on the Drum Set” by Marvin Dahlgren and Elliot Fine.

Each time I practice a pair of exercises (there are 2 on each line), I put a tick on the card. In this case I want to work through the early material fairy quickly, so I'll do each exercise pair 10 times then move on to the next. There's room on the card for pages 5 and 6 for a total of 80 days of practice!

Here's another for ‘Basic Rock Beats’. The rows represent a bass drum pattern and the columns are ride patterns.

Let's say I practice each figure for five minutes a day and spend a half hour on a row or column. It will take 6 days to play every pattern on the card. If my goal is to play each one 10 times, that gives me 60 days worth of practicing on a single 3 x 5 card. On a card like this, I might work on a single column or a single row or once through the entire card until I've racked up my objective. 

I now keep a few blank cards with me at all times, and when I have a new idea I put it on a card.
Later I'll add the card to the stack. When I'm completely done working with a card, I pull it from the stack and file it.

As I worked with this simple method, a number of unexpected benefits emerged. First, there is no need to copy from one page to the next as when using a notebook.  I can also pick and choose cards according to mood. 

The great news is that I feel less pressured when working with the cards. I attribute this to the tight focus of what's on the card. Instead of a full page of 'expectations', I have just the one thing in front of me and that helps me to 'be in the moment' and to not feel intimidated by all the things I'm not working on. I can also see my progress more readily as I work on new things. Instead of the feeling of "When will I ever accomplish this", I get satisfaction from seeing those tick marks add up.


I'm calmer, more relaxed, and my practice sessions seem to go by rather quickly. Often I've turned over a card to find myself back at the beginning of the stack, yet feeling that I've spent hardly any time at it!

Man Vs. Machine: Ever Closer

Musicians have argued for years whether accurate metre as played by a drum machine or with a click track could swing. I've always felt that a good machine-generated rhythm was pretty cool; I've programmed some rather funky stuff on a drum machine -- stuff that actually cooked. And what about sampled beats? They seem to be doing a good job in a lot of situations. Well, somebody finally decided to look into it, and it turns out people do prefer rhythms that breathe … human rhythms.

Here’s the story.

Researchers played music for groups of subjects and then asked them how much they ‘liked’ the rhythm. In one group, the drum part was played by a drummer; in another test group, the same rhythm was played by a drum machine. Although subjects could not quantify their answers, they somewhat preferred the 'real' drummer.

A lot of people will say, "Of course, what did you expect?" Thing is, the subjects liked the drum machine just fine, and their preference for ‘real’ drums was not that dramatic.

Another aspect of the study was to allow the music to 'breathe'. The researchers re-programmed their drum machine to throw in subtle time variations. The subjects weren't swayed much by this wrinkle, still preferring the live stuff. But they also preferred the breathing drum machine to the non-breathing variety.

So can we close the book on the man versus machine argument? Definitely not. There are music styles that can only be played by real musicians, and there are styles that really are best handled by a drum machine.

Now I will always opt for a real drummer, but I see no problem with a mechanized substitute if it makes sense. I'm pretty sure I'd not want to see a jazz band with a drum machine, but in other situations a machine might be just the thing. I guess as long as we do right by the music and the audience, it doesn’t matter what the solution is, just as long as it works.

For a summary of the experiment, visit:

http://www.tut.fi/en/about-tut/news-and-events/researchers-from-tampere-uncover-the-secret-behind-drumming-legend-jeff-porcaro-s-groove-p095642c2

"Stop Screwing Around"

Good advice at any time … and it's also the slogan of "pinchClips", a new gadget for keeping your cymbals in place.

It's surprising how often complicated problems have simple solutions. Take the ubiquitous cymbal stand wing nut. They're economical, very effective, and have been around since day one. But wing nuts have a dark side. Aside from always rolling under the bass drum when dropped, they are slow and finicky to work with. The commercial solutions that I've seen thus far have all been expensive and rather complicated. I think the pinchClip is going to change all that, and for about the same price as a wing nut.

Actually I'd been thinking about such a device myself, something in the way of a binder clip that fits on a cymbal stand. Well that's sort of what the pinchClip is, but it’s even simpler -- and very elegant. It looks a bit like a hair clip and fits over the threaded rod of a cymbal stand with a quick squeeze and release.

Here's how it works:

1. Remove wing nut
2. Squeeze pinchClip and put it on the stand
(Optional: Retrieve wing nut from under bass drum.)

And that’s it.

I gave the clips a pretty good workout and they stayed put (although I can’t vouch for how they’d stand up under very heavy playing). But that's not the real issue. With the pinchClips, tear-down of my cymbals now takes seconds, not minutes. (I actually timed it: 8 seconds.)

I only see two potential issues. If you like to crank down wing nuts as tight as possible, the pinchClip won't do that -- but that’s a good thing. Also, they can make a tiny clicking sound under some conditions. Not a real problem most of the time, but it might be an issue in, for example, a recording studio. I can't attest for how they'll behave under bezerk bashing and that's all I'll say about that.

I've switched over both my teaching and gigging sets to pinchClips because I've been wanting this sort of solution for a very long time. I’m also tired of searching for wing nuts in dark rooms.

www.pinch-clip.com

It's a Poor Workman Who Blames His Tools

Shortly after I bought a set of budget tabla, I came across an important bit of advice: Do not buy cheap tabla; it's too hard to get a sound and you will be quickly discouraged. OK, there are other reasons my tabla playing is seriously limited, but the sound quality of the cheap drums dampened my enthusiasm. Still, we ought not to blame our tools for a job poorly done.

Even marginal drums and cymbals can produce usable sounds. Of course drums are easier than cymbals as they can be retuned and you can try different heads and various damping approaches. With cymbals, you just have to go digging around. There are lots of sounds in there and while it may not be your ideal choice, there should be at least one that will be suitable.

On the other hand, quality tools are always a joy. When I was first acquiring professional grade drums, I thought in terms of a small business. For example, if I were starting a pizzeria, should I look around for a cheap beater of a pizza oven or should I invest in the best quality? If I want the best quality results, I need to start with quality ‘ingredients’. Many of my musical peers back in the day complained about their instruments and were apparently jealous of my 'good fortune'. But I noticed that they all drove fine cars, took frequent vacations, and other niceties. That was their priority. Mine was to improve the standard of my 'business' by investing in quality tools. The vacations could wait.

The investment paid off both practically and emotionally. My drums were easy to set up and easy to tune, and they stayed in place and in tune throughout the gig. They looked and sounded great and were easy to play, and that was a constant source of joy. There's nothing worse than trying to cope with poor sounding drums that require constant tweaking and adjusting. And if they're ugly as well? Let's not go there.

Good sound leads to less frustration, less frustration makes me happier, and a happier me is a better me -- one who is more likely to play well and to get asked back.

Buying Vintage Drums

Have you ever heard a great drum sound on a classic recording and then become obsessed with that sound? Have you perhaps dreamed of owning a set of Gene Krupa Slingerlands, Buddy Rich Rogers, John Bonham Ludwigs, or Tony Williams Gretsch? To argue the issue of vintage vs. new might be an interesting exercise, but the bottom line is: Vintage drums are very cool and easy to love.

So if you've decided you just have to have some vintage drums, there are a few things you should know before shelling out a heap of money.

The vintage drum market is alive and well. In fact, it's perhaps too healthy, to the point that there are loads of fake vintage drums showing up on sites such as eBay, Craigslist and Kijiji. So it might be wise to stick with drums that you can actually see and touch.

Assuming the drums are genuine, give them a thorough visual inspection. How's the finish? Is it intact or will the drums need refinishing or recovering? Do the drums match? Are all the parts there? Are the parts genuine and original or have substitutions been made or parts improvised? How are the plated parts? Are they free from rust or is the plating worn away, pitted or peeling? Are there any extra holes? You can't expect a 50-60 year old set to look new, but they should at least look cared for, and anything substandard will affect the value and therefore the price.

You may want to evaluate the sound of the drums, but this is very subjective. More to the point is whether they can be easily tuned. That means you need to check the bearing edges for trueness and that they are free from cracks, dents and damage. Make sure the hoops are round and that there are no bends or other damage such as can happen when a drum is dropped (this applies to metal shells as well). Do modern heads sit on the shell and under the hoops properly? Can you tune the drums to where you want them or are there issues with the casings or tension rods?

Other areas require a more experienced eye, and still others look a lot worse than they are. Cracked or chipped pearl wraps can be fixed or replaced quite easily. Reinforcing rings and loose plies can be reglued. Water damage, on the other hand, can be a kiss of death.

As for price, there are some huge bargains available if you're willing to search them out. Otherwise, expect to pay what you'd pay for a new set of comparable quality (and perhaps significantly more).

And that’s about all you need to know. So get out there and start looking for that classic set you've been longing for all these years.

All Things Being Equal

When it comes to the hiring process, friends tend to hire friends, so the saying goes. And when all things are not equal? Well, friends will still prefer to hire friends.

It's happened to me in both directions. I've lost out when a friend of the band members became available. I've also landed gigs because the guys preferred my company to that of the other contender.

This is not peculiar to the music business. During the recruiting process, all businesses are looking for someone with the necessary skills and talent. Once they have a short list of possibles, the next step is to see which candidate will be a good fit with the corporate culture and its values.

Bands too have a culture. Imagine being on a lengthy road trip with people you have nothing in common with, or people you don't like, or people who don't like you! A musical group can be a more stressful and demanding environment than an office. On the road, you're living together. Watch any ‘reality’ show to see what happens when disparate personalities are thrown that close together for any length of time.

I recently had the honour of seeing an impromptu reunion of my brother’s very successful teen rock band of the ‘60s. The three old-timers were thrilled to get together after so many years apart. They were equally thrilled to play. The guitar player summed it up simply: "We were friends". And they remain friends, even though they came through some very tough times as a band. Yes, there were heated debates and plenty of tantrums, but the bottom line is that they were a good mix of personalities, and as dedicated to each other as they were to the music and the job. It’s even possible that the rigours of the road helped make the friendships stronger. It certainly can go either way.

So keep in mind that, in addition to playing, a large part of your job is to get along with your band mates ... and they with you!