What I Wish Every Young Percussionist Knew

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"Just do it like we did it in rehearsal."

As a young band director, I was always caught off guard by how differently my band played on stage than they did in the practice room. Sometimes the drop-off was extreme, and in my first year it got to be so bad that the kids started to expect the performance to be dismal even if rehearsals were excellent.

At the district festival, I happened to be talking to one of the most successful directors in the state, and I asked him what he told his kids before they went on stage to get them to play so well. His answer is the title of this post, "I tell them, 'Just do it like we did it in rehearsal.'"

The simplicity of the concept stunned me. For some reason, I thought that I had to offer some sort of special advice to get my kids mentally prepared to play a concert in front of an audience. In reality, that preparation had already been done, and what I needed to do was help them to get in the exact same frame of mind they'd been in during those excellent rehearsals. Instead, I had been doing the exact opposite. I'd been putting them in a totally different headspace - essentially yanking the rug out from under their feet.

Don Kelbick, legendary basketball coach, had this to say about shooting free throws in intense, high pressure, win or lose situations:

"The other mental aspect that I feel is very important is understanding that all shots are the same and carry their own "intrinsic value," or their own reward and sense of satisfaction. A free throw in the first minute of the game with no score is the same as a free throw in the last second of the game with your team down 1 point. The effects of the shot may be different, but the basket is still in the same place, and so is the free throw line. The shot should be exactly the same in either case. The objective of taking a throw shot is NOT to win or lose a game. The objective is to MAKE THE SHOT! That is the only object. To inject outside values to a particular shot is a recipe for failure."
Read the full article here.

It took a few more concerts after that festival, but we started to develop a new way of thinking about performance, and steadily saw an increase in the quality of our stage playing. In fact, that group's youngest players eventually became the first group to qualify for the state festival in the forty year history of the school.

Here are two of the principles I've learned and still try to use whenever I perform, either as an ensemble member or the conductor.

Relax.
No performance is ever THE performance. You should always try your best, but it's not the end of the world if things don't go perfectly. Keep your composure, forget about any mistakes as soon as they happen, and focus on what's going on right now. Performing is practicing, so think of each performance as an opportunity to get better at performing. That said...

You'll perform like you practice, so practice like you want to perform.
As much as you can, try to stay in the same mental space that you would if you were on stage or in the studio. When I'm preparing for an important gig, I'll record or video myself at least a few times prior to the performance. Something about knowing that I'm being recorded puts a little bit of healthy pressure on me to do my best. I can always delete the recording if it's awful, and it helps me to get used to playing in front of an audience.

I watched the movie Hoosiers for the first time before I ever set foot in a band room as a beginning musician, but I think this clip exemplifies how we should approach performance.

No matter how big the hall or imposing the audience, whether it's the fall opener or the state festival, a quarter note is still a quarter note, and the key of F still has one flat. And if it worked in our band room, it'll work on the stage. 

Just do it like we did it in rehearsal. 

How do you spell fun?

"Because after a while, even lobster starts to taste like soap." - Dave Ramsey

When I taught high school band, I would start off every year by telling my new students that my whole goal for them was to have fun. That's it, just have fun. I loved the stunned reactions on their faces. They'd giggle and do little celebration dances. (Easy A!) 

Then I'd twist the plot.

"Let me spell 'fun' for you, because some of you may have forgotten how to spell it over the summer break," I'd say, matter-of-factly. Accompanied by giggling and whispering, I would walk to the white board, and with a new, fresh dry-erase marker I would spell in tall capital letters:

W - O - R - K

The laughter would stop. Instead, silence. After a minute or so, inevitably, there'd be some kid in the back who would shout out, "Hey! You spelled it wrong! That says WORK!" 

I'd smile, nod my head and say, "Yes. It does say, 'fun.' Excellent reading." 

As you may surmise, what followed was a very pointed discussion. Let me give you a version of it here.

Several years ago I was teaching a gifted drum student who also happened to be a talented basketball player. Only seven years old at the time, he was remarkable in both arenas. Ultimately the basketball schedule got busy enough that he and his parents had to make a choice between the two, and (of course) basketball won out.*

Not long after, I ran into his mom at the local recreation center. We chatted for a minute, then she asked if I'd play basketball with her son and his friends. She explained that they wanted to play, "a real game," but there were only three of them, and did I possibly have time to fill in for a couple minutes? 

Now, I love basketball. I play as much as I can. I post about it on this blog frequently. I was at the rec center that day to play basketball. But I've never had a less satisfying hoops experience than I did that day. Allow me to set the scene for you. 

Even though I'm slow and out of shape, I'm 6'1" (about 185 cm) and have a decent knowledge of the game. These were nine-year-olds. I was a giant compared to them. It took fully the first ten minutes to stop instinctively blocking every shot. None of them could steal the ball from me or really defend me in any way, and none of them could score on me until I chose to let them. I felt like Dwight Howard. 

For about sixty seconds.

It was NOT fun. At all. That was the day I learned that winning isn't everything in basketball, or in life. Especially when there's no multi-million dollar contract or shoe endorsement deal on the line, winning takes a major back seat to fun. And by fun, of course I mean work.

Many times I go to the rec center and get into pick-up games with people who are younger, faster, stronger and more talented than me. And - I've got to tell you - it's usually a lot of work. I have to run hard, jump high, out-think and keep up with a variety of humans in a variety of basketball settings. Sometimes I win and sometimes I lose. I'm always sore the next day. But it's almost always fun. 

My absolute favorite is when I hustle really hard against a player or team that's better than me and am able to gain some success. I block a shot or keep them from scoring, or maybe I finally make that nifty move, hit a great shot, or my underdog team wins. Those small moments of hard-fought victory are exponentially sweeter than easy wins.

They're fun, but only if you work for them.

My new band students every fall wanted to have fun, and they wanted to work. They just didn't know that the two of those things go together. 

The first group of students that I took all the way through that school were phenomenal. They somehow intuitively knew that it was going to take their best work to achieve something great, and they wanted it. Badly. 

One thing the band at my school had never done (and, at this writing, haven't done since) was to qualify for the State Concert Band Festival. As that first group of students entered their senior year, several of them came to me and said, "We want this. We're going to qualify for state this year. We don't want to play any of the easy stuff anymore. We want music that will get the judges' attention, and we'll work as hard as we have to, to succeed."

I didn't want to get their hopes up, but I didn't want to let them down. In rehearsal, we talked frequently and candidly about what would be expected in terms of quality and execution, and they consistently worked to improve themselves. 

We qualified for state that year. It was sort of a miracle. (Part of the story is in another blog post here.) The band played with a level of maturity and passion that we'd never had before, and they accomplished something great. They put themselves on the map. 

Afterward, I heard many of the students say, "That was fun!" 

I'll never forget what that school year felt like in terms of effort. All of the rehearsals, the sectionals, the coaching sessions, the clinics, the tour - all of it. But for all of the pain and effort, what still gives me chills is the memory of walking on stage with those amazing young people and making great musical history at the State Concert Band Festival. What was the last thing I said to them before we took the stage? 

"Let's go have some fun." There was nothing else to say.

As a musician - and especially as a drummer - it can be easy to get into a comfortable place and never want to come out. Once you can play certain styles or pieces, or you've got solo ideas that work, or whatever it is, you might lose your motivation to keep developing your skills. 

Take any example you want - only ever eating ice cream, never having to do homework, playing video games all day or blasting nine-year-olds at basketball - eventually you need a challenge, variety and something to work towards. If not, even lobster starts to taste like soap. More than that, you'll never do anything great, and never have any real-for-true fun.

What every great musician and athlete knows - what every great person knows - is that hard work for the right cause is fun. 

Push yourself. Work hard. Accomplish something great. Make the most of your own unique talent and creativity. Achieve your potential.

Have fun!

*Sports or music? The answer, of course, is, "AND." But that's a topic for another blog post. 

It's all about the music

As a sophomore in high school, I was one of two drummers in our school jazz band. This may sound strange, but at our school the band had as much prestige as any of the athletic teams, and the jazz band was the top of the heap. It was an honor, but also a lot of pressure, to be in that band.

For the first couple of months, I struggled to open up in rehearsals. My playing was stiff and not very musical. I had a hard time reading the charts and couldn't see the, "big picture," of the pieces we were playing.

Each fall our band director brought in a clinician to work with us, an amazingly gifted and inspiring educator, the illustrious Dr. Newell Dayley. During the session with Dr. Dayley, I was more than usually nervous. I buried my head in the chart and tried for all I was worth to play every figure, hit, fill and groove to exact specifications. Our band had a very good reputation, and I wanted badly to live up to it.

Near the end of the rehearsal, Dr. Dayley walked over to me, smiled, and said, "How well do you know this piece of music?"

"Pretty well, I guess," I replied.

He smiled again, then took the chart off my music stand and started to kick off the band. I didn't know what to think - didn't know what to do.

How could I play the music without my part? What would I do without the chart?

Something seriously strange happened when we started to play. My entire approach changed. It was as if I had been playing under a cover, in a cave - as if in total darkness - and now the sun had come out, the clouds had lifted, and the drumming sunshine was bright and clear.

While playing without the sheet music to glue my eyes to, I was able to make eye contact with my rhythm section mates, as well as to look around at the other sections - to pay attention to what and how they were playing in a new way - and to take cues from the director.

Now, I'm sure it wasn't my best playing that day, but to my fifteen-year-old mind it was a totally new experience. I was no longer playing notes, figures and rhythms.

I was playing music.

When we finished the tune, one of the trumpet players looked at me and said, "I don't know what that was, or where you found it, but you'd better find it again!"



It was awesome. I loved it. It changed my perspective on playing music forever.

Scott Hagen, Director of Bands at the University of Utah, is fond of saying that the music is what happens between the lines, notes, rhythms and rests. So, next time you sit down to play a piece of music, be sure not to stop where the ink ends.

Happy drumming. 

The importance of buy-in

Recently I attended a band concert at Utah State University. The first band to perform was the Symphonic Band, largely made up of Freshman music majors and other non-music majors. They performed their selections technically very well, but there was something even more impressive to me.

The difference between a lot of "good" high school musicians and what I saw at USU was simply this: buy-in. Every single member of the ensemble gave every possible indication that they were completely focused and enjoying what they were doing. In short, they had buy-in.

From an audience perspective, the body language and perceived attitude of the performers can make all the difference. I've certainly heard better, cleaner performances, but rarely have I been as engaged in watching and enjoying the entire performance.

Likewise, when I went on this trip, I got to hang with a very small high school choir. Seriously, the choir was made up of twenty-three students - the entire student body!

Let that sink in for a moment. The entire school is in the choir, and there are twenty-three of them. When we met the kids, I honestly expected a sorta-kinda-not-so-bad sounding ensemble, and I couldn't have been more surprised.

The choir's performance was excellent - compelling, even. Each singer (as with the USU band) was engaged and actually performing. It was mesmerizing and inspiring, not to mention that it was musically very sound.

Later, I asked the director of this choir a few questions. My first was, "How do you get every single student to get involved like that - to really sing and really perform?" Her answer to this question provided another mind-expanding moment for me as an educator, and as a leader.

Roughly paraphrased, she said, "I don't get them to buy in - they do it for themselves. Every year I sit the seniors down and say, 'This is your choir. You have worked hard your entire career in this school to build it. If you want it to continue, you've got to bring in the new and younger students, help them to feel welcome and understand how important they are.' I know that as the teacher, I can only do so much, and that they have to find the desire to perform - to be expressive - by themselves."

Candidly, I don't know what the magic bullet is, whether it's just having a great group of kids, an outstanding tradition, a dynamic and effective leader - likely a combination of at least these factors - or if there is something more. But I do know that when I watch performers who are engaged and visually demonstrate their confidence in and enjoyment of the music, I have a better experience as an audience member.

Whether you're a performer, a conductor or an educator, my message is this: Buy in. Go all the way. Treat every musical experience as if it will be your last, and savor every note. You'll enjoy it more, and so will your audience.

Happy music making!

Battle of the Bands

A few months ago, I was on the panel of judges for the Utah PTA's Battle of the Bands Finals (2013).

In a nutshell, here are a few things I observed, and would humbly suggest to every band that is ever going to play in front of an audience, ever:

• Don't let anything get in the way of good tone, time, musicality, etc. It's easy to get excited during performance, but put the music first.
• Know your role. Good music is like a house, made up of necessary, quality parts. Not all of them are seen, but all contribute to the quality and comfort of the home. If that means you need to play back a little, or not have a solo, or play more texturally, then do it.
• Listen, listen, listen. And act like you're listening. It's okay to make eye contact with other members of the band, especially during their solo.
• Put on a united visual image. Differing styles distract from the music, especially if the look and feel are different from the music. This is why a lot of music groups show up on stage in neutral greys and blacks - it allows them to play what they want and let the music speak for itself.
• Support the front man/woman. Know what's the "thing," and how to support it.
• Have fun, and show it. Don't go overboard, but look happy and confident, not nervous and scared.
• Play to your strengths and within your abilities. I'm not saying you shouldn't push the edges, but the audience "vibe" completely changes when they're worried that you might not land the next fill or riff.
• Be humble and gracious, but don't stutter. "Um," doesn't help your show.

Put simply, do whatever you need to do to make the music speak for itself, and don't do anything that will get in the way of that message. 

Happy gigging!

Flexibility 101: Focus on the goal

Over the course of my career I don't think I've ever had a performance where everything went as expected. Each time, I have to make adjustments and remain flexible. No, I'm not talking about gymnastics or yoga. I'm talking about the ability to adjust to surprises, unexpected problems or opportunities while performing. I wrote a little bit about this concept here.

Let me illustrate with a (true) story.

A while back I mixed sound on one of the stages at a local arts festival. Summertime is a great time for bands to play more gigs and access new audiences by playing at fairs, festivals and celebrations, so most bands take their performance very seriously. This was the case with a teenage rock trio.

The lead singer for this band, a talented young woman, was also the drummer. She had great gear, tons of energy and an obvious passion for the music and for performing. The band came with the usual entourage of parents, relatives and friends to support their set. They also attracted quite a few passersby from among the festival attendees.

The stage and appointed audience area were small, so most of the sound reinforcement was for vocals and guitars, etc, and not for drums. While they were setting up, I mentioned to the drummer that I was going to have to mix the sound level based on drum volume, so, "Please just be aware of how loud you're playing."

Honestly, I hated saying it. It's been said so many times to me, and each time it sort of feels like an insult. I let her know that I'm a drummer, and I understood what I was asking, and that I'd do my best with the volume levels. When soundcheck started, I was a little concerned.

She was loud. Not Ted Nugent loud, but loud. So, up came the volume levels on everything else. After soundcheck, I (as gently as I could) reminded the drummer/singer that her volume needed to come down a little, and she gave me the you're-an-adult-so-I'll-nod-my-head-and-smile reaction. The set began, and I really, truly tried my best to make them sound great.

By the second song I had the festival director in my face.

"You've got to cut the volume by half, at least! NOW!" Apparently we were upsetting the poetry stage,  ruining the petting zoo and wreaking havoc on the GDP of several small African countries.

I reduced the volume levels to the point where the director seemed less likely to pop a vein in his head, and basically all that could be heard on stage was drums. After that song, every member of the band converged on me, asking what was wrong. I told them what had happened and, like true rockers, they said, "We don't care! We're a loud band. They can just deal with it. We need more sound!"

My first responsibility was to the festival, so I told them I would do the best I could, but they needed to make the best of it. To the drummer I said, "If you can play a little softer, I'll be able to get the sound evened out. But if I turn everything back up, the festival director will stop your set. If you want to finish, you need to play softer."

You would have thought I had just murdered her family by the look on her face. When she went back to the kit, everything in her body language said that she was bummed, to say the least. The fun, positive energy was gone, replaced by anger and disappointment. If anything, she played even louder than before.

Then came the inevitable stream of parents and well-meaning audience members to my mixing desk. Can't you just turn them up a little? I can't hear my guitar-playing son. You're ruining their performance! 

In my defense, I did turn the band back up, little by little. I never stopped tweaking, trying to get everything to sound as clean and clear, and as balanced as possible. But the band had checked out mentally. The rest of their set was not great, and the audience seemed to deflate before my very eyes. I am certain that the band felt like the performance was not good, and the audience was ultimately not very impressed. And I feel badly about it, because the band was very good.

But, I've been there. As I mentioned above, every single performance I've ever played has had weirdness, at least, and outright disaster at worst. And if you let those things affect your commitment to the music and to your audience, you're bound to have a bad gig.

It's tough, but you have to put the purpose of the performance first. You have to serve the music, your band mates, and the audience. You almost have to view yourself as a cog in the machine. I am absolutely not saying you can't have artistry and integrity, and that you are a doormat. But you do have a choice to continue to work toward your musical goals or to put your own pride and emotions first.

Sometimes there really is no flexibility - things have to be a certain way - but most situations can be worked out if everyone is on the same page about what the end goal is.

I've also blogged about this before, but the musicians who get the most work - and who have the best reputations - are not only great artists, but are also known as, "easy to work with." In short, they are flexible, and always keep a positive, accommodating attitude.

Lastly, try to remember that no gig is THE gig. Each one is a step toward a better, more flexible you, and each one is a learning experience. Try to view each challenge as an opportunity to practice handling that type of situation. You'll land on your feet.

As always, happy drumming!

Getting "rewired"

When I was in college, I decided to supplement my percussion education by taking drum set lessons from the great Jay Lawrence for a couple of summers. He had (and still has) a huge reputation, and I was beyond excited to get started.

At the same time I was playing in a very fun, Dave Matthews-esque band, and I had been telling my mates how much better I was going to be, and how glad I was that I was taking lessons. Due to the summer schedule, it was about six weeks - and hence, six lessons - before we got back into a rehearsal and I was able to display my newfound skills.

There was only one problem: I had not improved. In fact, I was much worse. Awful. Terrible. Discombobulated.


My band was furious. We had a bright future, and as far as they could see I was throwing a huge wrench in the works by trying to change my approach through lessons. A couple of the band members actually went so far as to tell me that I needed to quit - immediately!

I knew that lessons were the right thing to do. Jay was awesome, I was learning a ton, and it seemed that I was gaining skills. So, at the next lesson, I asked Jay about it. Why would I play so terribly if I was actually making progress?

Jay's answer has stayed with me, and I've passed it along to my own students over the years. It's a paraphrase, to say the least, but here's how he explained it to me:

Have you ever seen the inside of a computer? Imagine what it looks like. There are a lot of set parts - boards and ports and power related components - but, by and large, it's a ton of wires. Wires everywhere that connect everything to everything else. 

Well, basically what we've done over the last six weeks is yank all of the wires out of their places and start to put them in new places, wire by wire. We're "rewiring" you, so to speak, and when we're done, you'll be a much, much better "drumming computer." But for now, there are still a lot of loose wires and parts that aren't functioning totally correctly yet. 

As we keep working on you, more and more "wires" will be put in place, and you'll function and play better and better and better. Just keep practicing, and keep challenging yourself.

That explanation, in addition to making sense, has been proven true over the years. Because of Jay's influence and approach, I've been able to kick some bad habits and develop a lot of techniques, skills and styles that were never a part of my old "wiring."

Thanks, Jay.

As always, happy drumming!

Surviving A Band

And I do mean, "survive." Bands are awesome, and you should play in some*. Just know what you're getting into, and have a strategy for keeping your career and long-term goals intact while serving the needs of the band at the same time.

One the most critical keys is determining what the band ultimately wants, and what path it will follow to get there. As an individual musician, you need to have your own goals and path, as well, and you need to determine as early as possible whether your plans and the band's plans can work together.

If they can't, then it will probably blow things apart sooner rather than later.

A friend of mine tells a story about how his band broke up after a big contest over what they would have done with the money if they had won. They didn't win. There was no money over which to fight. They still broke up.

Personally, I've been a member of three different bands that negotiated record deals. Not one was signed, primarily because we couldn't and didn't agree on what we wanted and where we were headed. In this type of situation, the end result is that the band either breaks up or makes drastic changes to survive, most often the former.

It goes without saying, but a critical key is how the money will be handled. In the beginning stages, it may be how much each band member will be expected to kick in for equipment, recording, touring, merch and the like. Once the money starts rolling in, though, the real fun begins. Decide up front whether you will share the money equally, or whether you will divvy it up by role and workload. Whatever you decide, everybody has to feel comfortable. The only acceptable vote is a unanimous one.

Once band members either feel like they're working harder or contributing more than others, or that they're not being compensated fairly, the end is probably near. Money changes all, and if not handled carefully, it can cause real problems both on and off stage.

In the "real" music world, one of my favorite bad - but common - examples is a story told by a friend of mine, a former programming director for a group of pop/alternative radio stations in the Salt Lake City area. She had been to an after-concert party of an extremely famous band and ended up on a flight with them the next morning. The lead singer was flying first class, but the rest of the band was in coach. Why? The singer was also the songwriter, and was thus getting paid royalties from radio play and publishing as well as money from album sales, touring, merch, etc.

A couple of good - also very uncommon - examples of how to keep a band alive and healthy are Coldplay and U2, far and away two of the most successful bands in the history of modern music. Both of those bands share all of the income and credit equally. It's no stretch to think that one of the band members contributes more to the actual songwriting than the others, but they have (wisely and accurately) predicted that if one of them starts making a lot more money than the others, the band likely will not survive for long.

Both of these bands have had long careers and show no signs of slowing up. Both bands also realize that if they aren't successful, it doesn't matter who makes the money because there will be little or no money to be made. Likewise, they have realized that if they are very successful, there will be plenty of money to go around, and there is no place for greed in a great band.

It's not all about the money, though. While the financial side of things is absolutely critical, the most important thing is to make sure that you're taking care of you. Not that you're slighting the band or distracted from what the band needs, but that you're continuing to develop yourself as a player and musician, and that your eyes are on the bigger, longer term picture. In short, you should work like the band will be successful forever, but have a backup plan in case it goes bad.

Above all, don't let anything stand in the way of you becoming the best, most successful version of yourself that you can be, and that involves keeping your options open and continuing to broaden your abilities and exposure.

It's okay to be in a country band and play jazz on the side. It's okay to play in a metal band and really love pop rock. In my world, there's nothing wrong with loving Justin Bieber (platonically, of course) and Diana Krall at the same time.

*If you're a drummer, what else ya gonna do? Unless you're Evelyn Glennie or Terry Bozzio, you're playing with other people - all the time!

Gear Up: Go green with an iPad

Not too long ago, I was on a gig with a band when the sound board burned out (no flames, but some awesome smoke). After doing some research, they decided to replace the board with a new-tech board completely controlled by an iPad. There are several versions of this board, but this is the one they were looking at.

One of the most attractive features (for me, at least) is that I can control my own monitor mix from my own iPad wirelessly. Also, up until this point, the band was using (actual paper-and-ink) music notebooks, especially for longer shows that required switching up the set list on the fly.

So, announcing the upgrade of the soundboard and the end of the notebooks*, the band sent out an email requesting that all of the sidemen (yup, that's me) get an iPad by a certain date. I went shopping, and ultimately settled on a second hand, "unused," still-in-the-wrapper iPad 2 with 32GB of storage. It was expensive (yikes!), but I felt like it was a good deal.

But....I'm not gonna lie. I was pretty skeptical about the usefulness of the iPad beyond the obvious ones I've already mentioned. That being said, here's my short list of uses for the iPad that have sort of changed my world.

1. Truth be told, I haven't used the iPad with the new mixer yet, but if it's half as cool as the marketing videos, "'Nuff said."
2. I downloaded an app that allows me to store, edit and display the charts (usually spreadsheet format like Excel or Numbers) we use to play songs, so I have literally hundreds of songs at my fingertips at every gig, even without internet access.
3. When I do have internet access, I can pull up a chart for any song that is requested at a gig. In fact, at a recent gig we were able to respectably recreate at least a half dozen songs we'd never rehearsed. That goes a long way with making an audience or client very happy.
4. Continuing the "green" theme, an iPad is much easier to use than a smart phone or laptop to take quick notes, check a calendar, or send a message - with no paper, pen, pencil, chisel or stone slate.
5. Smart phones can do this, but iPads are a little better - taking photos or quick videos, recording sound or voice notes or sending emails, texts, HeyTell messages, etc.
6. Apps are awesome. They're even awesomer (I know it's not a word, but I can't resist using it) on a bigger screen with more capabilities. Most apps for iPhone have more features and usability on iPad.

I'm not saying you can't live without an iPad, but I am saying that they are far more useful than I had anticipated. I've even found myself taking it to meetings instead of my laptop. It's easier to carry, the battery lasts longer, and it's got all the features (for me, at least) needed to carry about my daily tasks.

Phew! It feels good to get that off my chest. 

*Honestly, this was a no-brainer. Every time we added a song to the setlist (over 200 at this point), it required a bunch of printing, collating, updating the notebook - blah, blah, blah. The iPad allows for quick, easy and "green" updating of basically everything we need for a gig.

'That Thing You Do' may have had it right

I graduated from high school the same year that the movie, "That Thing You Do," hit the silver screen.

*SPOILER ALERT* (Really?! Is there anyone over the age of twenty who hasn't seen this film?)

When it came out, I was working in a movie theater, so I saw it about six times. Initially, I loved the film because the drummer gets the girl, and that gave me a little glimmer of hope. But as I've progressed through my music career, one scene has come to have more and more meaning.

The scene occurs near the end of the film, when Guy (the main character and drummer in the band) meets one of his music heroes, an old jazz pianist by the name of Del Paxton. Guy has just told Del about his band, and the following conversation ensues (I've taken out some of the dialogue, but you'll get the gist.)

Del: Ain't no way to keep a band together. Bands come and go. But you got to keep on playin' - no matter with who. You guys any good?

Guy: Yeah, man. We got something snappy. Really think we do.

Del: I'm sure you do. But sooner or later, something makes you crazy. Money, women, the road - hell, man, just time.

Guy: Well, we've only been together for four months.

Del: Some bands I've been with, that's four months too long. You keep on playin'...and watch your money. You'll land on your feet. 

Having played in a half dozen or so bands over the past twenty years, I've come to appreciate this approach more and more. I've been fortunate to play with both talented and genuinely good human beings for the most part, but it's true what ol' Del says: sooner or later, something makes you crazy.

In my experience, all of the causes Del lists have caused the breakup of bands, or at least the replacement of members. Time is probably the most common culprit as it eventually exposes everyone's true character, intentions, habits, etc., but money is a close second.

A close friend of mine, an unbelievably good musician, once played in a band that broke up two weeks before a very high-paying battle of bands because they couldn't agree on what they'd do with the money if they won. Yep. They broke up over money they didn't even have.

Beyond that, though, I've found that things are usually pretty good in a band until you start making some real money. There will be fights over who's doing more work, writing more of the material, booking the gigs and who has to spend the most on gear (drummers, of course). And if you get picked up by a record label, you have to deal with who gets the royalties, how the funds are split, who the manager is going to be, and much, much more.

There's a book that can help shed some light on it that I highly recommend. It's a little outdated at this point, but will give you a very clear, very accurate vision of how convoluted things can get in the music industry.

Check out the book here. 

I'd also recommend that you read some of the books about the band U2, and learn a thing or two. In my opinion, they did it right. Why do I think that? Because they're in their FIFTH DECADE (YES - FORTY-EIGHT YEARS) of productivity and worldwide relevance. Compare this to the average one-hit wonder, and you have to think they found a magic formula of some kind, and part of that is an absolute commitment to share all the money equally for everything - gigs, sales, royalties, merchandise - everything.

Honestly, this topic (and all the related topics we should also cover) could take up a hundred years on a blog all by itself. But, for starters, let me offer just a couple of pieces of advice to get through the ups and downs of bands.

You got to keep playin'. Del Paxton nails this one, for sure. Always view yourself as an independent musician, even when you're committed to a band. Eventually the band will move on, and you'll still be a musician. Don't let the band's identity become your identity. Most importantly, you should always have some aims and goals that will last, and be prepared for the band to be gone. What would you do if they broke up today? Who and what would you be? What would keep you working on your music? I'm not saying you shouldn't be dedicated to the band, but be dedicated to yourself, too.

Watch your money. This will seem less important when you're not making any, but the instant the first dollar lands, you'll have a major problem if you don't have a major plan. How will the money be split, and do you all agree about it? Who will do the extra work involved in setting up and running the sound system? Will they get paid for it? How will you fund your band in terms of equipment, gas money, your individual instrument upkeep, etc? Does the drummer get more for cartage?

Try to think about every possible problem or contention, and agree on how it will be handled. When problems arise, talk about it openly and honestly as soon as possible, and don't stop talking until you all agree. And, as I've mentioned on another post, have a plan for saving some of your dough.

Give it everything you can, but not more than that. Keep your music - and especially bands - in their proper place in your life. There's definitely a time and place to focus on just one thing, but be careful about putting a job, relationship, school or other opportunities at risk. Especially with a band that's starting to go somewhere, it can be very tempting to put all of your eggs in that one basket. I always try to ask myself, "What if this thing blows up today? What will I do?"

Because - trust me on this one - anything in life can change in a heartbeat, and bands are especially prone to blowing up in an instant.

More on bands to come. And if you've had some experience, share it with us in the comments below.

Happy drumming!

Transitioning from acoustic drums to Roland's TD-9KX2-S

First gig on the new kit.

I've been playing drums for 23 years as of this fall. I've played all of those years on acoustic instruments.* So earlier this year when one of the bands I play for wanted me to go electric, I was skeptical, to say the least.

In this particular case, the goal was twofold. First, we wanted to reduce stage noise (we also transitioned to in-ear monitoring), and second, we wanted to have more sound options at the touch of a button. This particular band is very show-oriented - an entertainment band that primarily plays corporate and community events, with the occasional wedding.

About two months ago I gave in, bit the bullet and dropped two grand on a closeout model of the Roland TD-9KX2-S. Since then, I have played about 6-7 gigs on the kit, and it's been quite the adjustment. To achieve the goals of the band and also to get a full perspective, I'm using the kit as-is, straight out of the box. No substitutions (like cymbals or snare drums), no additions, and no modifications.

Still getting used to how it looks on stage.

To be fair, I wanted to get a few gigs into the new arrangement before I started blogging about it, so I've waited until now. At this point I feel like I'm starting to understand some of the strengths and weaknesses, so I'm going to be sharing my observations periodically and asking for feedback from other musicians.

Just to get started, here are two quick observations:

• It's not the real thing. It's just not. After discussions with other players who use both acoustic and electric instruments, I've come to the conclusion that when I play V-Drums, I'm no longer a "drummer." I'm an, "electronic musician." I still play the role of drummer, but I have to realize that I'm not playing drums. I'm essentially playing a computer with a drum-like interface. 
• Because it's not the real thing, the player is limited by the programming and the capabilities of the hardware. With real acoustic drums, you're limited by physics. One great example of this is the playing of shells, stick clicks, ping shots and cymbal harmonics. The programming simply will not support the natural acoustic responses of wood, metal and mylar.

My load out "stack."

If you have opinions, observations or suggestions for those of us venturing into the electronic side of drumming, feel free to share below. 

More to come...

*Okay, okay. I did own an earlier Roland V-kit for about a year, but it was used exclusively in a teaching studio where volume was a major issue. I think I did a one-song recording project on it for a friend, but that was it. All other gigs were on acoustic drums. I was so non-plussed with the kit that I sold it as soon as I moved out of that studio.

The Gig Log: Salt Lake Chamber's 125th Gala

I've always wondered what it would be like to play in a house band for Letterman or Leno, and the other night I got a taste of it. One of the bands I play with, Lokalgrown, was hired to sit in as the house band for a talk show themed gala for the Salt Lake Chamber's 125th Anniversary celebration.

As the drummer, I literally became a cast member. I was asked to "kick" jokes and generally respond appropriately to the conversation and banter between the host (Curt Doussett) and his guests.

As a band, we were about as well-choreographed as you can get. Tunes were started and stopped on a dime, commercial "bumps" and "fades" were timed exactly, and every song clip was specifically chosen for its mood, tempo, tonality and overall effect.

It was a lot of work, but it was very rewarding. I say this to my students all the time, but the harder you work for it, the better it feels when you perform it well.

And for all you drummers playing live TV, you have my respect.

Happy drumming!

Gear Up: Custom Kick Head Art

Growing up watching drummers, I've developed a subconscious urge to always know which brand of drums a certain player is using. Where's the first place you look? Of course, it's the front head on the kick drum. My first kit said "CB 700" in bold letters across the front, and I absolutely couldn't wait until it said, "DW" or "Yamaha."

By and large, most drummers are using simple, single-logo heads, or going with no logos at all. But these days, that front head - the biggest visible flat space on most kits - has become a pretty valuable piece of real estate,  and there is a growing trend to use that big ol' circle to advertise.

What do drummers advertise, you ask? Well, mostly it's still the brands they play and/or endorse, or the band they're in, or themselves. And, increasingly, they don't just tell you their name. You'll also see their web address, or even a QR code. Crazy, right?

Maybe not. Given the prevalence of smart phones, a picture of the band or drummer becomes a serious serving of free advertising. We've all seen the pics that get posted on Facebook or Twitter that read, "At the show. R U jealous?" Suddenly, all 2,364 "Friends" and 5,741 "Followers" just got an ad that you, your band, and/or your sponsors didn't pay for. AWESOME.

What do you think? Is it worth all the hype and money? For most of us, it's probably not a good investment, given design and manufacturing cost. That being said, I'm working on a few designs right now for a head that will go on my new kit.

Why do it? For me, there are a few reasons. First, I want my kit to look unique. Aside from set up, factory finish and cymbals, what sets a kit apart? The front of your kick drum can give you an immediately recognizable logo, just like Coca-Cola or Apple.

Second, I'm just like every other business, and I want to grow my client list. This includes gigs, students, etc., and if my web address, QR or other contact info are sitting in front of my potential clients for a two hour set, chances are good that somebody will pull up my site on their phone while they're listening to me play. 


I'll only say this one more time (for now, at least): AWESOME.

Alright, so you've decided to look into it. Where do you get one? There are many good places to start, but before I highlight a few of them, try a Google search on, "custom bass drum heads." You'll get a ton of good info.

Here's the company I'm using, Woodshed Percussion. Check out their client gallery, and you'll know why I made them my choice. There's also Evans' "Inked By Evans," tool, which is pretty cool and unique among retailers.

And, lastly, what can you expect to pay? On the Evans site, where you do your own design work, heads start at around $80, and at a custom place like Woodshed, my project will be around $150. Honestly, that price range is ridiculously cheap given the potential benefits.

The bottom line - do it or don't do it - is ultimately up to you. For me, I look forward to having my kits be truly mine, in look and feel. And I hope to continue to build a quality brand around all of my music and drumming activities. Hope that's not too mercenary for you.

Happy branding!

Beyond the Kit: Flexatone and Vibraslap

Time to highlight two lesser-known percussion goodies that deserve at least a little love.*

First up: flexatone. You can find a little history, a listing of compositions using flexatone, and some fantastic sound samples here.

While it is not used very frequently, the flexatone is one of the instruments for which there is really no suitable replacement.

Similarly, the vibraslap, while used much more frequently than flexatone, is not called for very much. Find some more information here.

As always, take some time to look into both of these instruments and see if there's a place for them in your bag of tools. If they can help you to be more expressive, creative and musical, you should get ahold of them soon!

Happy percussing!

*It can be frustrating as a percussionist or band director to try to acquire all of the little percussion "toys" that are called for, especially when you only use it once or twice. But when you've gotta have the sound, you've gotta have the sound.

The Weight Room: "Come off trying!"

When I was in college, I was a fairly serious rock climber. I had a small group of friends that I literally trusted with my life on a daily basis. (If you've never been climbing, rappelling or spelunking, it can be hard to understand this concept. But in order to participate, you must put your life and safety in the hands of your belay or partners.)

Often when climbing, we would come across an especially difficult section or sequence, and it was common to need multiple tries to complete the problem. Sometimes it would just simply be too frightening, and you'd either burn yourself out by hesitating too long before the attempt, or you'd simply come down and give up.

It didn't take us long to institute this rule: If you're going to come off (fall), come off trying. Quite simply, it became unacceptable to come off the rock without giving your absolute full effort.

Because of this mindset, it is of great concern to me when I see students who quit music without giving themselves a legitimate chance to succeed. I talked about this a little bit in an earlier post, but nothing makes me more grumpy than seeing a student pass up an opportunity to do something great either because they lack vision or are unwilling to exert themselves.

"It's too hard," and, "I can't do this," have stopped many a promising student from progressing, both in climbing and in music.

When we started to enforce the "come off trying" rule while climbing, some interesting things happened. I'll highlight only two.

1. We would often surprise ourselves by completing the move. I can remember a sort of switch that would flip in my brain that said, "I know I'm not gonna die, so I'm just gonna do this!" And frequently I would do more than I thought I could. 
2. Along with accomplishing more, even failing and falling served to increase our confidence and reduce our fear. You took a risk, you didn't die, and if you failed you were all the more determined to keep trying until you succeeded. Truly - scrapes, cuts and bruises became badges of honor. We still call them "battle scars."

One of my most successful drum students came to me as a forty-something mother of five. I can't remember the exact words, but she said something along the lines of, "My kids have all had their chance to learn music, now it's my turn." 

She was never afraid of or intimidated by anything I asked her to do, and never got embarrassed if she didn't understand at first or couldn't do something right away. She just gave it everything she had, and kept trying until she got it. She embodied - and still does - the "come off trying" mentality. 

That was over ten years ago, and today she is still playing in a successful local band with some other amazing women. They rock!

I understand that music and drumming - like rock climbing - may not be for everyone. But I also believe that you can't know that without trying. And I mean really trying, working hard and giving your best effort before you decide to go another direction. And for the vast majority of us, work and effort will result in success!

May you work hard, achieve success and always come off trying!

Bag of Tricks: Hat and tom fill

This is a cool fill I stole from one of the million "hit" pop bands in the nineties. It's a very low-key way to emphasize the 4 and land on 1.

Here's the 16th note version:

And the sextuplet version:

Happy drumming!

Beyond the Kit: Indoor Winter Drumline

Guest Blogger: John Mapes via Eric Nix. Thanks, gentlemen!


Why should music programs include winter drumline?


We wouldn't ask football players to train for four months playing soccer to then introduce them to the game of football for the remainder of the year... Would you expect your color guard program to be very good every year if they took eight months off in-between marching seasons? The indoor percussion activity was started on this philosophy with these principles in mind.


To run a successful, effective marching percussion program, you need/desire at least 20-30 percussionists in the fall. What do those 20-30 students do from December through June? You only need so many percussionist for wind ensemble, and percussion ensemble is great, but it is still hard to build the excitement that marching percussion inherently has to the masses. 


The two seasons fall hand in hand for the percussion side of things. It is very difficult to have a great fall marching percussion program without some sort of year round training. For wind players, the skill sets from the field to the chair are very similar and work together to give those students what they need  year round. For marching percussion it simply is different. Obviously there still needs to be some wind ensemble percussion training and experience happening in the class room, but what about after school?

Ignore the hard-hat-wearing construction shows and the "Zombies from outer-space" shows you may have seen. There are some incredible displays of musicianship that are possible in this activity, and it is our job as educators to make sure that is the goal. It is our responsibility to produce an experience that is founded in legitimate musical concepts to demonstrate to the rest of the community that this activity is valid. 


Every time I do a percussion circuit clinic someone always asks how they can promote growth in their circuit. The answer is simple - put out better products that entice other groups and band directors to want to participate! Maybe the electronic techno remix show with the volume level of "as loud as possible" or the artsy show where the deep meaning is so deep that even you don't know what the show is about aren't the best choices to promote local growth. (Was the the tribute to Britney Spears really the right choice?)

The argument I often hear is, "What about preparing students for college?" For myself, I never played much concert percussion in high school, but simply took what I learned from the marching activity and applied it when I went through the college percussion process. The importance of consistency, tempo control, simultaneous responsibility, team work, time management and - of course - the love for drumming are enough to prepare our students to achieve whatever they want. 


Most of my students will not continue in music for many reasons and I have no problem with that. Real life is scary and music is not the easiest path to pursue. I just want my students to get the best opportunity and experience they can have while they are involved in music.

Friday Feature: Walk Off The Earth

I know I put this on the Facebook page already, but I just got hipped to these guys this week, and I can't get over the simple innovation of this performance. The tune is called, "Somebody I Used to Know."

You can check out Walk Off The Earth here.

Enjoy!

Beyond the Kit: Why music?

So, I taught high school music classes for five years - band and guitar. It was a blast, for the most part. Loved it.

One of the assignments I gave each year was to have the students write a paper (a short one, but a well-crafted and thoughtful one) that answers the question, "Why music?"

I have to admit, that of all the great experiences I had with amazing students, none were better than reading some of those papers. You can talk down to high school kids all you want, but there are some incredibly intelligent, passionate people that walk those halls every day. (It's a crying shame what they have to go through to get an education, but that's a post for another day.)

Today I'd like to pose the question to you, as well.

So - why music? Why does music exist? What's its purpose? What does it do? Is it important? Why?

I'll give you my personal philosophy - if you care to read it - next week.

Happy thinking!