On March 27, 2010, the Northern California Band Association (NCBA) held championships at Foothill High School in Pleasanton, CA.

And I was pissed for much of the day.

I always let my drumlines know that, at least for me, drumline isn’t just about drumming. It’s about class and responsibility, amongst other things. If a drumline has no class, if they act like rude, obnoxious idiots, I pretty much refuse to watch them. This falls in line with a philosophy I spout to every group–drumline or otherwise–I teach:

Make people want to watch you without playing a single note.

I think this is incredibly important. A musician should prove to be reliable, professional, and courteous when dealing with other musicians and his or her audience. Those traits can go a long way in both getting work and gaining a bigger audience. Acting rudely is not impressive, whereas acting with grace is impressive. Why? The former leaves a bad impression while the latter leaves a good impression. It’s that simple.

Unfortunately, at the Foothill show (no fault of Foothill, mind you), I contended with rude instructors and drumlines for much of the day.

Let’s take the parking lot, for example. If there’s plenty of room in the parking lot, don’t set up a mere yard or two away from another drumline if they were in that spot first! I cannot tell you how many times that has happened to my group this season, and from the same drumline, too. Yes, parking lot space can be tight, but unless you absolutely have to, you should set up in as isolated a spot as possible. As space gets tighter, then I understand a close setup, but in my experience space rarely gets so tight that extremely close proximity is necessary. Parking lots are already plenty loud without having an ensemble within arm’s reach playing right next to another. It’s rude. And rude instructors are responsible for this.

If you’re a drumline member, don’t walk around wearing group apparel or uniform, or handling your equipment, screaming and shouting like a two-year-old, and don’t cuss. Save that for the bus. Save that for the after party. Just don’t do it smack dab in the middle of the parking lot where everyone else can see you. Don’t do it when walking from one place to another: the lot to the competition area; the bus to the warm-up area. It shows a lack of class and disrespect for both the group and the people involved in helping the group operate. In the case of a school, it’s also disrespectful to the school.

Don’t walk through another drumline’s equipment or rehearsal area, especially when things are clearly sectioned off. For instance, if a drumline has laid out their floor (large tarp used for performing indoor shows), don’t walk on it! This has happened to my drumlines as well as others. It’s happened to colorguards. I heard that, during the Foothill show, even though the announcer asked the audience not to walk across the floor of the colorguard setting up for their performance, people did anyway, including a performing member from another group who allegedly ran across the floor to get to the other side of the gym. This is extremely disrespectful. It shows a lack of acknowledgment of another group’s space and the fact that they are working. In addition, walking through someone else’s equipment is cause for accidental damage.

It is the instructors that let this happen, either by allowing it, causing it, or not instilling in their members a sense of class and respect. Sometimes–maybe more often than not–it’s all three. And this is sad because these are the instructors that set the bad example for their members, members who may want to go on to become instructors themselves someday. It is these instructors that teach their members how to lead by their disrespectful example. It is these instructors that cause future instructors to teach others how to act in the same manner.

Everyone makes mistakes. I have made mistakes. In fact, at Foothill, the rudeness got to me and I vocalized my discontent to no one in particular (let’s leave it at that). I have apologized for that. But when instructors and drumlines make the same mistakes over and over, they can no longer be labeled mistakes. At that point, it’s just habit. I can forgive mistakes. I cannot forgive bad habits.

It makes me sad that my group, and a few others, are subjected to rudeness and a lack of class and respect because other drumlines care more about the drumming aspect of the activity and not the other aspects. This activity is more than that, and the lessons learned in this activity carry over to other aspects of life. For example, we often hear testimony of drum corps alumni that say they learned to work hard because of drum corps. But there are other lessons to be taught by instructors and learned by members. Working hard is a great trait, but I’m not sure many people want a hard working ass unless they need one to pull a carriage.

I’ve been teaching quite a few younger students lately. Anyone with experience teaching younger drum students has run into the problem of mashing the sticks into the pad or drum. It’s a natural problem for young students; it’s natural for someone to pick up drum sticks for the first time and then bang and mash the sticks into the surface because, for all they know, drumming is just about hitting stuff.

Even older, more experienced drummers also suffer from this problem, mostly drum set players. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen a drum set player “deadstick” his or her stick against the snare while playing backbeats. I’m not sure why. Is it because they’re trying to hit really hard? Is it plain lack of stick control? Or perhaps they just never learned and don’t really care all that much about how physically detrimental deadsticking is (can’t they feel the shock being absorbed by their hands and arms?) and how bad it sounds.

Of course, with technology, you can get a good sound out of bad playing, but that’s another post.

One method I use to solve the problem of mashing the sticks into the head is to use a basketball analogy. When a person dribbles a basketball, he or she pushes the ball towards the ground with a downward gesture of the hand. As the ball leaves the hand and hits the ground, it comes back up and meets the hand again. The hand allows the ball to bounce to a certain height before repeating the dribbling process.

No one ever dribbled a basketball successfully by mashing the ball into the ground, right?

It’s the same with a drumstick. As the stick hits the head, the stick will want to bounce back up. Keeping the basketball analogy in mind, I encourage my mashing students to get the stick off of the head right after impact. And it works.

The only problem with this method is that, in marching percussion, we freeze sticks in playing position. For my lines, this means that the bead rests one inch above the surface. This height will differ depending on the instructor. I, personally, also teach the concept of playing position to my drum set students because it promotes downstroke-oriented playing, it’s comfortable, and it readies them for marching percussion should they choose to go that path.

So, when students attempt to follow the basketball analogy, they often pull their sticks up higher than playing position. This is fine for playing consecutive notes like a string of 8th notes on a single hand or hand-to-hand 16th notes where the hands play continuously, but not for releases or tap-to-accent patterns where stopping the stick in playing position is the desired result.

Despite this problem, I consider this to be an acceptable way to begin teaching mashing students how not to mash. Once the student gets rid of the habit of mashing their sticks into the head, I can then concentrate on getting them to freeze their sticks in playing position. The more important thing with mashing students is to achieve a single sound from their attacks instead of the buzz that results from mashing.

–

Has it really been that long since I posted last? Shame.

As Obi Wan Kenobi told Luke in Return of the Jedi, “You’re going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.”

An educated drummer will probably know what is meant when a drum teacher says, “Let the bounce do the work,” or, “Let the rebound do the work.” I know I do. However, as much as I hate to say “never”, I’m pretty sure that I will never say either one of these phrases.

(Time will tell if that declaration will come back to haunt me)

I really don’t like the notion that the bounce does the work, because it implies that the sticks will deliver the rhythms we want to play simply by letting it bounce on the drum head. Now, I know, and the educated drummer will know, that isn’t the case – that we actually control the bounce so that the rhythms we want to play are properly executed.

So, why don’t we say that?

In sticking with my philosophy of speaking universal truths, and having worked with plenty of young drummers, I know the importance of saying what I mean. We do not let the bounce do the work.

I tell my students that we allow the rebound to assist us. We, the drummer, do the work, but on a bouncy surface we allow the rebound to alleviate some of the work we do and that we are always playing every beat. Explaining the concept of bounce to the young drummer in this manner lets them know that they are in control of their sticks and how they react to the drumming surface. This way, as they learn how to play different things, breaking them down so they learn to place every beat, they learn how to control the bounce. As they get faster, build dexterity, and build muscle, they will increase their control of the rebound provided they also continue to focus on relaxing and staying loose while they play.

Additionally, as they play on different surfaces, they will learn how to adapt to the type of rebound. Many drummers have played on various surfaces, from loosely tuned heads with very little response to Kevlar heads that are very, very bouncy. Each type of surface will respond differently, so being able to precisely articulate rhythms depends on the amount of control we have over our sticks. If we’re not able to play rhythms on an ill-responsive head with the same kind of accuracy as a bouncy head, then what is the point of relying on bounce, letting it “do the work”? Not to mention the fact that drummers will play on all sorts of percussion instruments: there are snares and toms and their respective heads, as well as cymbals and percussion toys, each having their own surface qualities and response types. We need to be able to articulate accurately on all of those surfaces.

I demonstrate this concept by playing clear double-stroke rolls on curtains or my lap, both of which have little to no rebound (my lap, having muscles, have a little bit of response, you know). I then qualify this statement by letting my students know that they will probably never have to perform on a curtain or their laps, but that’s the type of control they need to have over their sticks. That way, when they play on drum, they can adapt, loosen up, and let the rebound assist them so they don’t have to do as much work.

Many young drummers that try to bounce everything out let their sticks flop onto the head as they play diddles, flams, etc. This always results in badly played rhythms because what they’re doing is trying to play the sticking patterns, the rudiments, instead of playing the actual rhythms.

It is very important to have a relaxed grip on the stick. This way, when playing on a bouncy surface, we can guide the stick at any speed, utilizing whatever the amount of response the surface gives us. Conversely, if we are relaxed, we can learn to manipulate the stick on a less bouncy surface by using more muscle but still with a relaxed grip. We can let our hands adapt to the rebound, or lack thereof, by using more or less muscle as necessary while being relaxed at any speed.

This is the manner in which I teach my drummers stick control. We do not rely on the bounce. We do not let the rebound do the work for us. We are always in control, doing the work but allowing the rebound to assist us. If our sticks and the rebound could talk, they would be calling us “Master”.

And that, young Jedi, is my point of view.

I’ve been away for a bit. I’m sorry. I hope that doesn’t mean you won’t do me a favor. Not a huge favor, just a small one, okay?

Play four counts of 16th notes with an accent on each downbeat, starting on the right hand.

Done? Cool. Now, play the exact same thing but use a paradiddle sticking. Start on the same hand.

Finished? Thanks. I owe ya. Now answer this: did the two patterns feel different? I bet they did. And that’s important, because the way you feel while you’re playing a pattern affects the way you keep time. I call this the “handfeel”.

One of my drumlines is currently having difficulty playing paradiddle, tap-diddle, and diddle-tap exercises at a steady tempo. The thing about those diddle-based rudiments is, unlike rolls, they’re used to play a linear succession of beats in a non-linear, sometimes asymmetrical manner, as opposed to the constant symmetrical and linear alternation of hands.

I know, I know… what on earth does that mean? It means space. The alternative sticking of diddle-based patterns provides each hand space between notes. This space gives us the opportunity to keep time by playing a basic rhythm using different stickings other than your typical hand-to-hand strokes.

Take, for instance, the four counts of 16ths played in a single-stroke manner:

Playing that hand-to-hand is very direct, very driving. In contrast…

Paradiddles – for example – offer each hand some space, which means that although the pattern itself is driving, the handfeel is more laid back After all, the right hand is playing:

Notice that I left all the rests in 16th value so you could see all the space your right hand has while playing paradiddles… and, oh, how much space there is! The left hand plays the same pattern during those spaces, but of course its cycle begins at a different point.

Tap-diddles and diddle-taps contribute to this spacious handfeel with their asymmetrical patterns on each hand. The notes are delivered in a linear succession without breaks, but one hand plays the tap, the other plays the diddle, and each hand gets its own unique set of space. Neither hand is playing the same thing, so you have to figure out how that asymmetrical, spacious handfeel feels inside the tempo.

In the case of diddle-based patterns, it’s this space that can help you figure out how to approach the pattern so that you can play it at a steady tempo. Take advantage of the resulting handfeel and “lay back” by not approaching the passage with a sense of driving through the passage really hard, but instead with a sense of open space as opposed to closed space. This doesn’t mean you should play lazily and drag, of course, nor should the rhythmic interpretation alter.

The concept of handfeel offers a way to help you be aware of how these patterns feel physically within a selected tempo. This is used in conjunction with understanding how the denomination of notes fit within a time signature and tempo; understanding how all the beats are placed in time. It’s a burden to mentally keep track of all the beats you’re playing, making sure that you’re placing each and every beat in perfect metronomic fashion, or counting along in your head (as many younger players are prone to do). At some point, feel is going to have to take over; you’re going to have to know what fundamental rhythms and sticking patterns feel like.

Not to mention that these stickings offer us a choice. Since different stickings have different handfeels, we can choose how we want to keep time during certain passages, and that lends itself to musical interpretation.

And it gets more complex when you combine different patterns, say, a paradiddle into two tap-diddles into a paradiddle-diddle into an inverted paradiddle. At some point, you have to have enough diddle control to keep them evenly spaced so that no matter what kind of space surrounds them you don’t end up closing the space of the diddles themselves. Through the entire passage, however, you’ll need to remember that all of that space requires you to lay back and keep everything open, rather than drive right through and close everything up.
…

Oh… what about double-stroke rolls, you say? Rolls fall into the hand-to-hand category because, although you’re playing doubles on each hand, each hand does move up and down to a specific fundamental base rhythm, whether it’s 16ths, 8ths, triplets (12ths), etc., which means that the hand alternation is constantly symmetrical and linear.

Rolls are really another story… and another post.

I got out of the car about 7:30 last night and heard someone playing his drum set.

Oh… we live in a condo, by the way.

It didn’t bother my wife and me because we live on the other end of the building so we didn’t really hear it unless we were actually listening for it, but I do remember feeling very sorry and angry for their upstairs neighbor (so I guess it did bother me).

While this drummer is actually pretty decent, he’s giving drummers a bad name. Many people think that the drums are cool and that drummers themselves are cool, but only during a performance or conversation. Any other time, people find us annoying. We drum on everything: shopping carts, the desk, the table, our laps… And then there’s practicing: the tick-tick-tick on the drum pad, the loud sound of the drums… it’s rare that I can drum on my drum pad at home without my wife asking if I’m going to stop soon.

We are annoying musicians to most. And the guy playing a drum set in a multi-dwelling building is a rude contributor to that. But, he’s also one of the inspirations behind this post.

There is no reason why he needs to drum on his kit, really. Yes, playing on your instrument of choice will help you to become more familiar with how that instrument feels, how to handle it, how to manipulate it, etc. But the drums are unique in that all you really need is a pair of sticks (and sometimes not even that). You pretty much need a saxophone to learn how to play the saxophone. Same with a violin, cello, trombone, etc. But drummers can learn how to play the drums with nothing but a pair of sticks and a surface to play on.

The other inspiration behind this post is a particular group of high school kids that just don’t understand this concept.

Back in February, at one of my high schools, several of the students got very, very disappointed when I told them we wouldn’t be using drums for at least two months. A deep sigh emanated from their breaths and all I could say was, “You don’t need to play on a drum to be a drummer.”

A good drummer should be able to sound good on a drum pad. If you sound good on a drum pad, chances are you’ll sound pretty decent on a drum. If you sound horrible on a drum pad, you are most definitely going to sound ten times worse on a drum. Everything becomes amplified: all the mistakes, the bad attacks, the lack of control… the rule of thumb is if you can’t play it well on a pad, it will sound worse on a drum.

In the end, if a drummer really loves the act of drumming, it shouldn’t matter if they’re playing on a drum or a tin can. The physical act of drumming should be fun, no matter the playing surface. Indeed, playing on a drum is fun, and it’s certainly educational, but time has taught me that a pair of sticks and a surface that can tolerate a beating is also just as fun if I’m playing well.

Plus, I can play in my condo without bugging the neighbors.