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. 

Practice LESS. (Wait....what?)

Like all music majors, I performed solo recitals at the end of my junior and senior years in college. The experience of prepping for a recital is excruciating, and it feels like every waking minute is devoted to learning, cleaning and rehearsing every aspect of the performance.

Just a few weeks prior to my senior recital, I was seriously struggling with a difficult snare drum solo, and the stress was really getting to me. I was practicing no less than an hour and a half per day on just this one piece (in addition to hours on marimba, vibraphone, timpani, rudimental snare drum and drum set), and I was making very little progress. I was frustrated, and getting very desperate.

At my weekly lesson, I presented the problem to my instructor, Dr. Dennis D. Griffin. He suggested something that sort of blew my mind. It went something like this:

Dr. G: How long are you practicing this piece every day?

K: About ninety minutes, give or take.

Dr. G: And how long do you spend warming up - doing exercises and rudiments and the like?

K: About fifteen minutes.

Dr. G: Ok. Here's what I want you to do. Practice the solo less. Spend at least half of your time on technique exercises, things like the Stick Control book. Make sure you're using exercises that apply to the challenging aspects of the solo.

At this point I sort of freaked out.

K: Practice....less? But, Dr. G, I only have a few weeks until my recital! I just CANNOT give up the practice time on the solo.

Dr. G: Try it for just one week. Give it as much focus and determination as you can, and if it doesn't help you in one week, you can go back to doing it your way.

Needless to say, I felt pretty hopeless. How could I possibly make progress on the hardest solo I'd ever played in my life by practicing less? And a lot less, at that?

But the good Dr. Griffin had never led me astray before, so I took his advice and went to work. Over the next week I took apart the solo, broke it down to its elements, and found exercises (mostly out of the Stick Control book, using the slow-fast method as my approach) that applied to each element.

To cut to the chase, it worked. In that week, by practicing my solo for half of my normal time, I made more progress than I had accumulated up to that point. I made my recital deadline, and played the toughest piece of concert snare drum literature of my life - and played it pretty well!

Candidly, it would have been good enough just to make it through my recital, but here's the amazing part: the skills I worked on during that period of time have stayed with me to this day. They have become part of my vocabulary and remained at the tip of my fingers for use not only in formal concert settings, but in my improvising and drum set playing, as well.

There are probably more lessons here than I'm thinking about, but here's the one: Being a great musician is much more about having the skills to construct a variety of musical phrases, sounds and components, rather than knowing a piece or a collection of pieces. You've got to have a repertoire, for sure, but to continue to be expressive and adaptable, you must constantly be building a collection of musical tools.

Musicians often call this their, "toolbox," or, "bag of tricks."

Let's think about it another way.

Did you ever play with Lego's? Imagine if you only had one kind, size or color of Lego block. What could you build? Not much. You would have a limit on what shapes and functions you could construct out of one block.

But what if you had two, or five or a hundred? With every added type, shape, size of block, you exponentially increase what you can build, how it can function, etc.

One more comparison: Basketball. If you only have one move, your defender will easily stop you from scoring, and you'll be an ineffective - not to mention boring - player.

The same is true with your musical skills. If you don't have very many rudiments, sticking patterns, independence skills - even ideas - to draw from, you'll be limited, ineffective, boring, etc. More than that, you'll be frustrated.

Lego's, basketball and music all have this one thing in common - they're more fun when you're better at them. And you're better at them if you have more tools, tricks and skills.

So, long blog post, but short message: Practice less. You'll get more done, and you'll keep it longer.

Happy drumming!

It's a matter of (public) perspective

Disclaimer: Before I dive into the topic du jour, I have to say that I get it. I really do. It's just a little joking around, and there are jokes about every profession and every class of people. (Recently I played a gig for a bunch of sewage system engineers, and, let me tell you, those were some pretty crappy jokes.) But there is an underlying problem, and it's time that we, musicians and non, face it head-on.

A friend of mine, an insanely successful and renowned guitarist and music educator, tells one of my favorite stories. Shortly after he and his family moved into their brand new, beautiful home in a somewhat exclusive part of their city, he was chatting with a neighbor at church when the guy asked him, "So what do you do?"

"Oh, I'm a musician," he replied.

"No, no. I mean, what do you do for a living?"

I love this story, because it exemplifies the standard attitude toward musicians from many people who aren't. Music is fine as a hobby, I guess, but you can't seriously call it a career, right? It's just not important enough. 

Alright, so that characterization might be a touch incendiary. In a nutshell, here's my problem: musicians, and music education, have always been marginalized by mainstream society. Whether it be in the professional world, in education or at the gym, music is often viewed as a sidebar.

Too often, musicians and music are turned into a punchline.

Example number one. Here's the commercial that just about made me fall off my treadmill.

I get that it can be tough to support a young personn through the cumulative hours it takes to develop a musical skill, but the mom is essentially saying, "I deserve a reward just for being in the same space with a kid practicing her instrument - that's how bad it is to have a musician in the house!" (It's also a subtle dig at bassoonists, and I get that, but...)

Example number two. Although KFC has taken their ad down (you can't even find it on YouTube), you can get a sense for it and read their response to criticism here. The commercial contrasts the "good idea" of buying fried chicken for dinner, to a bunch of "bad ideas." The one that caught my ire? "Bad idea: buying your own kid a drum set."

Again, I get that marketers are just trying to get viewers to laugh and remember their product. But as I wrote above, it betrays an underlying attitude that musicians, like lawyers, proctologists and used car salesmen, are somehow not people, and that their contribution to society is a necessary evil.

It's a topic for another blog post, but music is possibly the most reliable catalyst for positive change for students and society, and to marginalize it simply reinforces many of the things that are wrong in the world.

What do you think? Just laugh and let it roll? Or is it a more serious problem? I'd love to hear your perspective in the comments below.

Happy drumming, even if it is a, "bad idea."

Great! Now do it again

I'm always using basketball metaphors, but I guess 'tis the season to talk about football, so here goes.

For two years in high school, I played on our school's football team. It was a lot of fun and taught me much about hard work, teamwork, perseverance and more.

I remember a day when our coach introduced a relatively complex play. We worked hard and finally got it right after lots of tries and correction. For some reason, I expected the coach to move on or give us a break. He didn't.

Instead, he said, "Great! Now do it again."

We proceeded to run the play correctly for over an hour, until we could do it without even thinking about it. That, it turns out, was the goal. After that practice, our coach explained the following principle:

Getting it right is just the first step. "Practicing," means doing it right over and over again. 

Now, think of that principle in terms of your music. Do you ever move on after only one or two successful runs at something? Muscle memory develops after lots of reps over a long period of time, so be sure that getting it right becomes a habit.

It's almost cliche to hear a coach say, "Again." But it's a core principle in becoming great at anything - repetition is how we learn something, how we make it permanent. It wasn't very fun practicing the same play over and over again that day in practice, or on the following days. But it was very, very rewarding to run the play in a game situation and have it work perfectly. 

Happy practicing. (Again and again and again.) 

(UPDATED) Friday Feature: Neil Peart of Rush

I while back, I posted about Neil Peart, expressing my respect for him as a person, even if I have been slow to fall in love with his playing and the music of Rush.

This past week I discovered an article on www.drummagazine.com talking about the new album, "Clockwork Angels." The article is absolutely worth reading in its entirety, but there are two points that immediately struck me.

1. Neil Peart considers himself an athlete. As such, he trains his entire body with intense cardio, stretching and yoga, as well as strength training and weight-lifting. He specifically targets areas where drummers commonly have injuries - such as shoulders and elbows - to prevent an injury to  himself. This, in my opinion, is one of the key reasons he continues to innovate and play at the highest level in Rush's fourth decade.
2. To quote the article directly, "Master Player = Master Student" Peart is one of the great examples of someone who is never satisfied or complacent with their playing. Repeatedly over the course of his very long, illustrious career, Peart has, "surrendered," to great (and I do mean great) teachers who have helped take him to the next level. 

To summarize, treat your body as well as you can, and always be learning. Could it really be that simple?

Neil Peart continues to earn my respect as a human being, and my love of his playing, lyrics and the music of Rush are constantly growing. 

Thank you, Mr. Peart. You're worthy of your rock star and idol status!

Here is the original post:

Friday Feature: Neil Peart of Rush

You know how tall people always get asked if they play basketball? I have twin cousins who are 6’6”, and they do not play basketball, nor do they want to. They humor people all the time who ask the question, and privately want to slap them silly. 

Well, it’s like that for drummers, too. The minute somebody finds out you play, they’re all, “So, hey, what about Neil Peart, huh? You must love Rush, right?” I’m the kid who deliberately avoided all things Rush and Peart for years. No, decades. Religiously, you might say.* 

Up until a couple of years ago, I loved fantasizing about witty remarks I could reply with, but always said something like, “Oh, yeah, well you have to love him/them, right? Great stuff. Yeah, big fan.”

So, here’s the thing: I finally read an interview with Neil. After his first wife died in 1998, he spent an entire year riding a motorcycle around North America, and wrote a book about it - his fourth. The interview, and subsequent other articles I read, revealed Peart as a highly intelligent, well-rounded person, as well as being one of the most respected and emulated musicians of the modern era. I remember being impressed with him as a person, not as a musician. 

Somehow, for me, that opened my ears - and my mind - to the music of Rush. Had I my life to do over, I would have taken that album the first time it was offered, not the 28 billionth. I can’t say that I’m a huge fan, not yet, anyway, but I have finally become an appreciateur, if you will, of Neil Peart and Rush. They take the creation of their music, and musical expression, very seriously. I respect them a great deal, and am coming to know more of their repertoire.

For those of you who have yet to get to know Neil Peart, allow me to suggest a starting point, although I’m probably the only one of his fans who would recommend it. Start with his instructional video, “A Work in Progress.” It’s pretty recent, so it’s thirty or so years into his career, and he talks about reinventing himself. Awesome. That I love.

Happy discovering!

*The way I also avoided the Beatles until about a year ago, I might add. I’m a fool’s fool, so to speak, because I’m now a dedicated student of the Beatles. Wish I had come to them sooner.

Bag of Tricks: Easiest linear funk grooves EVER

Creating fun and funky grooves doesn't have to be hard. If you're looking to get out of your groove rut, try these two easy linear grooves on for size. As always, start slow and work to get comfortable and play with a solid feel before you increase tempo.

Performance notes:

• Keep the bass drum nice and solid. Fat kick sound helps both of these patterns groove.
• Any unaccented notes in the hands should essentially be played as ghost notes.
• In the first example, count four is played as a buzzed snare drum stroke in the left hand, and an open hi-hat note in the right hand. Try to get both sounds to last until count one.

As I've stated before, it can be helpful to try playing these grooves with a variety of styles. If you can make them groove to Metallica, Keith Urban, Frank Sinatra, Bach and Enya, you can play them anywhere. 

Happy drumming!

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!

It's just a mistake, right?

Let's make a quick comparison between our natural reactions to "mistakes" in a couple different settings.

First, in music. Often, when I am teaching or coaching students, I ask them to, "pretend like you're performing." They should conduct themselves as if it were an audition or an actual, audience-in-the-house performance.

Especially early on in the process of learning how to perform, many students will be just fine until they hit that first inevitable snag. Whether it's a wrong note or rhythm, a missed sticking or whatever, they will simply stop, look up at me, and say something like, "Hey, sorry. I messed up. Can I start again?"

Sometimes the reaction is even more forceful - along with the stop in the music, they pull a face or slump their shoulders or let out a sigh or shout. Many times they will go back and play the same bar/figure over and over again. Almost invariably, the forward motion of the music is completely stopped.

Keep in mind - this is supposed to be a performance.

So, let's examine another setting. Say you're walking down the hall in school (or at work) with somebody that you need to impress, and your shoe catches the edge of a tile and you trip, just a little bit. It's not enough to put you on the floor, but it's obvious your shoe caught.

How should you react? Do you stop walking? Do you back up and walk over that particular tile a few times just to make sure you can do it? Do you point out the place where you tripped and say to your companion, "See? See that right there? THAT'S where I tripped. I really stink at walking right there. Come closer - it's right there. See that? Mind if I try that again?"

Most of us would never react to a simple thing like that. We would just simply keep walking and act like it never happened. Why? Two reasons. First, you don't ever want to magnify a problem when you need to look like there are no problems (as in performance). Second, it's not a big deal, so why make it one?

Yes, I'm taking it overboard, but it always amazes me how much attention we can draw to ourselves when we overreact to a mistake in performing. All musicians make mistakes. All people make mistakes. As young musicians, one of the most important skills we can develop is the ability to keep playing and ignore the mistake as much as possible.

When I was in high school, I was in the drama/theatre program. I wasn't terribly good at it, but I really enjoyed acting. One of the ways that our teacher helped us to develop good performance skills was to deliberately surprise the cast during each performance. Every night, on stage, in front of an audience, something was bound to be wrong, ridiculous or just plain surprising.

I was in the cast of, "Oklahoma," and one of my scenes involved shooting a pistol straight up into the air. In rehearsals, we focused on getting my actions to match with the sound of firing the pistol, which was supplied offstage. Imagine my surprise when, on opening night, I fired the pistol and was promptly hit on the head by a rubber chicken dropping out of the sky!

I remember thinking, "What in the world am I supposed to do with that?!" The firing of the pistol was usually the closing of a scene, so we waited for the lights to go down. When they didn't, one of the other actors picked up the chicken, said, "Good! Now there's something for my extra dinner guests," and walked off stage.

It may or may not have made for good theatre, but it taught all of us would-be actors how to keep our composure and apply the, "the show must go on," mantra of the performing world.

Just to be clear, I'm not saying that there is never a time and place to examine and eliminate our mistakes through scrutiny and practice. There are lots and lots of times and places for that. What I'm trying to get across is that we also need to develop our, "performance mindset," so that we can be effective performers regardless of imperfections.

One of the key ways we humans show our maturity and life experience is by the way we react to unexpected or unfavorable surprises, whether in music or in life. The more a person can take the surprise in stride - even incorporate it into their plans - without missing a beat, the more they can downplay or even obscure the "mistake" from outside observers.

More importantly, we learn to put the focus on what's going right instead of what's going wrong. We let the story be told even if we misspell a word or two. Because at the end of the day, none of us is perfect, and all of us have a story to tell.

Happy drumming!

I piloted a helicopter!

Part of my day job is to help facilitate clinician visits to school music programs (I have a good job, I know!). Last week I was able to accompany one of our top clinicians to a remote city in southwestern Utah. As a result of fortunate scheduling and some deep generosity, we were able to travel by helicopter.*

The clinic itself is worth at least a blog post, but for now I'll try to encapsulate what I learned from the flights out and back.

On the flight out, I sat in the back. Surprisingly, it was roomy and comfortable. The weather was beautiful, the pilot was experienced and we had absolutely no problems. I shot pictures and video, enjoyed the chatter - both radio and that of my companions - and just generally enjoyed myself.

The flight back was an entirely different story. I sat in the front and got a much closer look at how helicopters are flown. About fifteen minutes into the return flight, a question I hadn't even considered was shot my way by the pilot.

"Okay, you ready to fly this thing?"

What?! Me, fly?! I have to admit that about 99.9% of my body and soul was screaming, "NO! Of course I don't want to fly! What are you, crazy? We'll all die!" Luckily for me, the 0.1% that wanted to fly had a pretty strong argument - it was such a unique opportunity, I couldn't possibly turn it down. Besides, the pilot was there to keep me from making any serious mistakes. So, I took the stick and started to fly.

I was nervous, to say the least. From the moment I took over the stick, it felt like I couldn't put my eyes in enough places at once. We were only about 3,000 feet off the ground (compared to 25,000 for commercial airline flights), and there were what seemed like 50 gauges, meters, dials and other controls on the dash. It was a lot to handle, and it took 100% of my brain power.

The total duration of my piloting experience was only about 30 minutes, but it was amazing. It was a microcosm of any new experience, I suppose, because I viewed flight, helicopters, pilots and myself very differently at the end of that short time.

What does this all have to do with music? At least three things, and I'll try to briefly explain them below.

First, great musicians have the ability to focus - totally and absolutely. While flying the helicopter, there was nothing else in the world that seemed worth thinking about when compared to staying in the air, safe and on course. Likewise, in music, we need to develop the ability to block out any distractions or factors that aren't going to aid us in our music making. We can develop the ability in both practice and performance to, for a defined period of time, focus on nothing but music.

Second, I was impressed by the ease with which our pilot flew. He told us that over the years flying becomes, "second nature." His instincts, muscle memory and other mental and physical attributes and skills have been honed by hundreds and thousands of hours of flying, meticulous training and practice, and by never, ever allowing himself to be distracted by anything other than flying. As musicians, our course is similar.

Great musicians have honed their skills and musical senses over many, many years. Not only in practice, but in performance, we need to maintain the standard of only playing at our very best, highest levels.

As Aristotle famously opined, "We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, therefore, is not an act, but a habit."

Third, and finally (for this blog post, at least), it couldn't have been more obvious that our pilot loved flying. He seemed free and ultimately happy in the air. As a result of his excellent preparation, trust in his helicopter, and years of experience, he enjoyed - even exulted in - flying. What could be a better example for musicians? The more you have control of yourself, your instrument - your craft - the more you will enjoy music.

At the end of the day both flying and music have many purposes, and both can take people to a higher place (literally and figuratively) in a way that nothing else can.

Make music. Be happy. Fly.

*This is a story in itself, but the short version is that we were flown by a pilot-owner who also happens to be a huge advocate for music education.

What is classic music?

You know those pants/haircut/shoes/glasses you rocked in junior high? You thought you were the bomb-dot-com, and now you try to burn every single picture from that part of your life. Well, music can be the same. Not everything that you think is amazing now will still be cool in five plus years.

Here's one example.

Growing up, I went through all of the normal emotional storms, including breaking up with girlfriends and getting grounded by my parents. Music - more often than not - got me through. As a result, it has always amazed me how fast I can go back to certain events or time periods in my life just by hearing a few notes or words from a certain song.

One such song was a blues tune that shall not be named (for reasons which I will explain). It was my Senior year of high school, and I had been dumped by the girl of my dreams (yeah....about that). This is really pathetic, but I laid down on the floor next to the speakers, put the aforementioned track on repeat, and wallowed in self pity for the next couple of hours.

Fast forward to college, and I was exploring some music with a new girl of my dreams, and came across a dusty old CD that I hadn't listened to since high school.

"Sweet!" I said. "This song is so awesome! You've gotta check it out." Without reconsidering, I put the disc in the player, skipped to the appropriate track and waited for the magic.

The song was awful.

It became immediately apparent that my memory of the song was much better than the song itself. It was actually kind of embarrassing, and I had to quickly kill the music, as it were, and make some stupid excuse about how maybe it wasn't that great or I had been thinking of another song. I looked really dumb, to say the least.

This got me thinking, "So, what makes a song great? Not just great now, but great over time. Why is music from certain artists - like Mozart or the Beatles - still relevant, while other, more recent artists are already outdated and old?"

Understand, I'm not talking about immediate popularity, or even album sales. (Does it make anybody else sick that Katy Perry is outselling the Beatles, for crying out loud?) I'm talking about music that doesn't outlive its popularity, its ability to connect with an audience - its soul, for lack of a better term.

As a high school music teacher, one of the assignments I gave was for students to bring in one of their favorite tunes, explain it to the class, and justify its existence. One question they had to answer was, "Will this song still be relevant in five to ten years? Why or why not?" It was fun to hear certain kids flat out admit that their tune was cool for now, but probably wouldn't be in the near future. 

I'd encourage you to try this out. No, this is not school, but give it a go:

Take your favorite song (for me, this changes weekly, if not daily). Print out the lyrics. Read them to yourself slowly, taking care to decode the overt meaning and look for any subtle meanings and symbolism. Even better, read them out loud to some one who isn't familiar with the song, and ask them to summarize the meaning of the song in one sentence, two at most.

For the sake of music and art, I challenge myself - and you! - to be a more discriminating listener and consumer of music.


Happy interpreting/listening/discerning!

Do I really need to read music?

I get asked this question all the time. "Why do I need to read music?"

Well, imagine if you couldn't read English. First, you wouldn't be reading this post. Imagine if someone had to read everything to you everyday, from street signs to magazines, to text messages and Facebook status updates. How would that be for you? In a word, debilitating.

Certainly there are lots of good people in the world - brilliant, even - that can't read or write. But those people, almost without exception, would encourage you not to follow their path. Reading and writing are the gateway to learning and communication on a much higher and more efficient level.

The same is true for music. Of course, there is much to be learned from listening and imitating. And there are many great musicians who never learned to read or write music. But the written version of what you're hearing can allow you to be more expressive and accurate than you could ever be without seeing it. Written music also fills in more of the "why" of the music, sort of like how books can tell you a character's thoughts, but the movie rarely can.

For my money, reading music is as critical to the musician as reading and writing your spoken language is to the average human being. Not doing it won't end your career, but gaining the skill can only make you better.

Happy reading!

Do it right!

I have used many basketball metaphors and analogies in writing for this blog, and it's time I share some of the reasons why.

For starters, sports and music have a lot of elements in common. They're both about a long term commitment to mastery of a certain set of skills. And that involves always learning, practicing and being willing to adjust.

Another reason - probably the main one - is my high school basketball coach, the late Steve Hodson. Coach Hodson was a stickler for proper technique. He would absolutely blow a gasket if you shot the ball incorrectly, make or miss. But if your form was good - even if you shot an air ball at a critical time - he'd give you a nod and a clap and encourage you to shoot again.

So, why was the coach such a technique stickler? He believed that sacrificing good technique for any reason, even for a critical basket now, would rob you of future scores.* That always using the proper technique would, over time, garner a player more points and, therefore, more wins.

This is one of my fundamental educational philosophies: If you do it right, every time, you'll get consistent results in terms of sound, execution and musicality.

Of course, there is much more to be said about technique, but that's for more future blog posts. For now, just remember to do it right every time if you want to get consistent, long term results.

Happy drumming, and make the most of it!

*Not to mention the fact that poor technique can increase your risk of injury.

Something's got to give

Disclaimer: Please read this first.
This blog post is a gut reaction, and it's just my opinion. I thought long and hard about whether I should even post it. It's rough, it's somewhat undeveloped, and it may be less than tactful. I may even overstate or overgeneralize a few things. But I believe in right and wrong. And I believe that you and I have the power to do something to make the world a better place. With that in mind, please forgive the rougher edges of this blog post. And thank you for reading. As always, I appreciate your thoughtful comments and insightful feedback. 

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Something's got to give.

In the aftermath of the awful movie theater shooting in Aurora, CO, during the premier of the latest Batman movie, a stark realization has become apparent.

We have gone too far. All of us have.

This is not a new opinion, but it's truly shocking what we'll tolerate in our music, TV, movies, theatre, video games, literature, poetry, painting and more. And we call it,"entertainment."But when anything similar happens in real life, it's suddenly a tragedy and an outrage. Honestly, what do you expect?

No, you're not the one pulling the trigger, but you might be supporting some very disturbing trends in our society either by financial support - such as the purchase of tickets, albums or the like - or by tacitly approving by doing nothing.

I'm by no means an expert on parenting or social evolution, but it seems obvious that if you tolerate something without speaking out about it, it is assumed that you approve of it. For example, your child does something that you don't want them doing, and they know you see them, but you decide to let it slide. Your child will think, "Hmm. Mom knows I did it, but she didn't say anything. That means it's okay." And more than likely, what you're actually seeing as the parent is nothing compared to what they're doing when they know you're not looking.

A very vocal, visible class of artists, musicians and movie-makers (no, not all of them) are no different. They're even more predictable, actually, than your children are. If sex and violence sell, then more sex and more violence will sell even more. Some producers will even admit that they're actually trying to, "push the envelope," to get as much smut into their art/music/movie/game as they can.

Have you listened to mainstream radio lately? It's downright offensive. Nobody I know, or grew up with, or went to school with was anywhere close to that promiscuous. Nobody partied like that or was that reckless, undisciplined and weak. But many popular recording artists would have you believe that the lifestyle they portray is normal - that everybody is doing it.

I'll cut to the chase: it's my belief that the arts, and specifically music, are supposed to make us better. Not only should they make us better individuals, but better families, communities and nations. And if they don't make us better, they're making us worse. It's like gravity, and - increasingly - there's no middle ground.

Yes, I get freedom of speech and expression. I get that arts are a reflection of society. But isn't it time that we reflect more of what's good about humans? More about what good humans are capable? More of what will make us happy, rather than what will feed our appetites?

It seems to me that 10% of the people are producing 90% of the art, and those 10% are setting the tolerances for the other 90% of us. And we're paying for it, literally and figuratively.

We have gone too far.

Or maybe we haven't. Maybe the 90% of us haven't gone far enough.

Maybe this is a pessimistic view, but I prefer to think of it as realistic. If you agree, and you think things are bad and getting worse, I ask you to do something about it. Not anything drastic, just consistent.

If there's a song on that doesn't fit your values, turn it off. Same with movies, TV, video games and the like. If you go to a movie, have the guts to walk out if it crosses your line - regardless of the ticket price. And if people ask you about it, tell them! You don't have to be preachy or annoying about it, just decide where your lines are, and stick to them. Trust me - somebody out there will see your example and follow it.

And if enough of us stop being quiet, and stop shelling out dollars, maybe we can make small changes in our world. And maybe small changes will turn into big changes.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for thinking. And thank you in advance for supporting art that makes the world a better place.

That's the place I want to live. 

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!

DJ "Maiden Voyage"

Over the weekend I took out my new (to me, at least) small PA system and provided music for a series of events for a wedding. It was a blast! I thoroughly enjoyed being able to set the speakers how I wanted, shape the sound how I wanted, and keep the volume at just-right levels.

There were a couple of hiccups, however. I learned a great lesson - one that's probably obvious to DJs everywhere: you have to play music that you don't like, and lots of music that you do like won't be popular with the given audience.

That being said, the primary goal was to make the evening feel great for everyone, and to provide entertainment for a wide variety of attendees - first and foremost being the bride and groom and their families! I felt like I achieved that goal for the most part. I tried to play at least one song for every type of listener in attendance, and I took lots and lots of requests.

Another lesson I learned is to be prepared. There's so much music in the world that it would be impossible to have it all at your fingertips (especially without a wi-fi connection), but you can save yourself a lot of hassle by finding out what type of music the couple wants to have played, including as many specific songs as possible, and then make sure your playlist includes everything you can find that they mentioned or that is similar. You can't have too much music.


For example, the groom said his family likes, "dance music." Perfect! I loaded up on Brian Setzer, Glenn Miller, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, etc. Only....that's not what he meant. Luckily for me, many of the family had the right kind of music on their phones and iPods. He was talking about Skrillex, Taio Cruz and other artists of that genre.

Luckily for me, there were some specific songs that were requested, and I was able to download all of them from iTunes. You don't want to leave things like the bride and groom's first dance, the father-daughter dance and other important moments to chance. You want to get them just right.

And finally, a note about volume. You will absolutely never be able to keep everybody happy. So I focused on the bride and groom themselves, their parents and my wife. I would periodically glance around the room and try to make eye contact with any of my "volume checkers," and get a cue from them. I would also periodically walk the eating and socializing areas and make sure that no one had to work hard to have a conversation.

It was a great learning experience and a lot of fun. I'm not saying I'm going to hang up the drummin' shoes and become a wedding DJ, but I'll be up for it the next time I have an opportunity.

Transitioning to V-Drums: It can...and it can't

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I acquired a set of Roland V-Drums earlier this year, and I've been documenting my transition and trying to clarify the strengths and weaknesses of the electronic kit.

Let's start with a couple of "can'ts."

It can't give you realistic feel and response. Probably the most obvious weakness is the hi-hat pedal. When playing jazz, the hi-hat "chick" sound is all but worthless. Not only is the sound mushy as all get out, you have to absolutely crank the level (and drop everything else) to get an adequate relative level for swing and latin grooves.

If you can imagine the differences between a grand piano and an electronic keyboard, you're close - at least in concept. This is the way I've begun to think about it: with acoustic, real drums, you are limited by physics - by the literal wood, metal, plastic, metal and wood (I know I repeated metal and wood, but that was for effect) - and by your own skills and creativity. With the V-Drums, you're limited by the programming of the computer module and the capabilities of the triggers.

That being said, you really do have to think about acoustic drums and electronic drums as two very different instruments, and thus approach playing and making music differently. You might play them with similar technique, but they are as different as the aforementioned piano and keyboard.

And if you're thinking about them this way, you realize quickly that the number one strength of the electronic drums is that they have literally hundreds of sounds onboard. You can adjust - within limitations - the samples to reflect shell material, diameter and depth, as well as a limited bank of cymbal sounds. You can literally change kits every song - or every chorus if you want!

Another huge benefit is that you can play virtually silently. With headphones (I mentioned this before), I can rock out at 2 AM without waking the kiddos. And with an audio input jack, I plug in the ol' iPad and practice with a track and be almost totally silent. The feel is close enough that this is really a great benefit. It's not like you're going to have to make a huge adjustment when you go back to acoustics.

This, in fact, is one of the reasons I was encouraged to get a virtual kit - to keep the stage as quiet as possible during performances. Combined with in-ear monitoring, the only live sounds on stage are acoustic guitar and voices. It's eerie and cool at the same time. The bass, electric guitar and keyboard players all plug directly into the system, amp-less.

I do miss the "thump" of the live sounds. Even when using the in-ears, you can feel the vibration of the drums and amps, and I do miss that. But it is nice to be able to pull out one ear, and then have a relatively low-level conversation while playing a tune. It's gotten almost a little silly at some of the less intense (read: background music with zero audience) gigs because we're catching up and chatting it up on stage.

One last thing for now. This may seem backward, but I miss having to play with good dynamics. In a small venue, I used to have to choose my sticks and play so carefully so as not to overblow the band, and in a large venue I had to work pretty hard. Now, it's all in the hands of the engineer - I've even cut my stick bag down to one pair (minus the bag) when I take out the V-drums.

And that's just weird.

Anyway, enough of my rambling for now. As always, I welcome comments, opinions, input and feed back below.

Happy drumming!

The Weight Room: Summertime is practice time

If you're a junior high or high school music student, it's time for a little heart to heart. Your music teacher absolutely hates the summer break. I don't mean that they aren't looking forward to some vacation time or a chance to work on some other interests. But they absolutely hate the fact that they just spent nine months getting you to a certain point, and you're going to spend the next three months letting a good portion of that progress go to waste.

Sound harsh? It'll get worse. Trust me.

Let's talk physical fitness for a second. Take an average person and put them in a daily training regiment and diet geared toward, say, strength training. If they follow the program on most days of the week, they will make progress toward the goal of gaining strength. If they don't follow the program, they simply don't make progress, right? Wrong.

In actuality, if you're not following the program you're not just failing to make progress, you're actually losing what progress you've made. This is the way the body functions, and it's absolutely the way that music - or any other - skills function, as well.*

Another way to think about it is to imagine a hot air balloon. The balloon has a burner that heats the air inside the balloon. As the air gets hotter, the balloon rises, but as soon as the burner is turned off and the air begins to cool, the balloon starts to fall.

You're either rising or falling. There is no standing still. And once you've fallen, even a little bit, the next bit of energy expended isn't to help you make progress. It's just to get you back to where you were. In the music world, this is called, "maintenance practice." This is the minimum amount and type of practice required simply to keep you from losing the skills you have.

Jascha Heifetz, the legendary violinist, once said, "If I don't practice one day, I know it; two days, the critics know it; three days, the public knows it."

So, with that thought in mind, let's talk about some ways to keep moving forward even when school isn't in session.

First things first. You just have to do it. What's the hardest thing about going to the gym? Going to the gym! Once you get there, it's not a big stretch to complete a workout. The same is true with practice. Once you've got your instrument, music books and pencil out and you're prepared to practice, it's almost impossible not to practice. In the words of the immortal Mary Poppins, "Well begun is half done."

Next, set some goals. Instead of saying, "I'll practice one hour per day," say, "This week I'll get all twelve major scales memorized." And that can be part of a larger goal, like, "Before school starts again, I'll have all the major and minor scales and arpeggios memorized - two octaves - and be able to play through them with a metronome in under four minutes." Now, that's a bunch of goals tied together in one sentence, but you get the idea. Talk about what you'll do, not how much time you'll spend.

Finally, spend more time. And in this case, I really mean spend. Think of it like money (even though it's far more valuable). When you spend a dollar, you expect a certain value back from it, and you only have so many dollars, so you have to spend them carefully and make sure that you're getting value back from your investment. Instead of thinking, "I have to practice for an hour today," say, "I can only give myself an hour of practice time today, so I'm going to get as much out of it as I can."

It's your music, and it's your life. Get everything out if it that you can, and don't waste your opportunities! If nothing else, give yourself the best chance you can. It's up to you.



Happy practicing!

*Because of how my body functions, I absolutely have to spend some time stretching everyday. If I do, I become more flexible. If I don't, I get less flexible, and thus, more prone to injury. There are examples of this concept all over the place, so why do we think it would be any different with music skills?

The recipe is not the cookie!

Today I worked with some AWESOME junior high percussionists. They worked hard, and we had a lot of fun. They also put up with my crazy analogies and stories really well. (Thanks, guys!)

Along the way we discovered another great way to think about sheet music, or what we sometimes call, "the chart." Whatever you call it, it's the paper with ink on it that tells you what to play, be it tabs, standard notation, a lead sheet or head chart.

This comparison is really simple: the written music is the recipe, as if you were making a batch of cookies. The recipe may call for flour, sugar, eggs, chocolate chips, etc, just like the music calls for rhythm, pitch, dynamics, phrasing, etc.

Ultimately, the addition of the ingredients, the mixing, the tweaking and the baking? All up to you. That's why my version of cookies is very different from my mom's, even though we follow the exact same recipe. And that's why your version of a song may be very different from somebody else's.

One more thing: It's been said that you can tell when food is cooked with love, and the same can be said for music. When following the "recipe" for your next performance, cook it up with love and both you and your audience will appreciate it.

And remember, just like the recipe is not the cookie, the sheet of paper with all the ink on it is not the music.

Happy drumming!

"Spirit Houses"

Just a warning. I know I've written some pretty whack stuff before, but this might be the most whacked out yet. So, read with a grain of salt handy. 

Several years ago I attended a workshop by Wally "Gator" Watson. There's much more to it than this, but he talked about how all of our instruments - especially drums - were once living things. Since he's a drummer, he talked especially about drums being made from trees.

Wally believed strongly that all living things have spirits, trees included. And since they were once living, they retain the ability to "house" a spirit. Specifically, yours when you play. Wally talked about playing with your whole heart and soul, putting your spirit into the drums when you play them. He called his drums, "Spirit Houses."


Beyond the instrument, too, Wally talked a lot about putting your soul into your music. As an example, he brought a teenage girl up in front of the group and asked her to do a little singing. He quieted the audience while he spoke to the girl, and she sheepishly began to sing, "Happy Birthday" to the audience.

Honestly, it was pretty embarrassing for all of us. She turned red, giggled her way through it, and looked around awkwardly the entire time. The audience didn't do much better. It couldn't get over fast enough! Wally smiled kindly, quieted the audience again, and whispered something quickly in the girl's ear.

She closed her eyes and began to sing the same song again, but in a completely different way. As the first notes poured out, the entire room changed. The air itself seemed to be made of a heavier substance. The once giggling teenager stood calmly, eyes closed, beautiful voice clear and true. As she got to the third line of the tune (sing along, everybody), she choked slightly as she sang, "Happy birthday, dear Mom, happy birthday to you." It was breathtakingly beautiful, and I was completely stunned.

The young woman finished the song and opened her eyes, and the audience applauded, almost in awe. As she stood there, Wally asked her to repeat what he had asked her to do. The first time, she said, he just asked her to, "Sing 'Happy Birthday.'" The second time? "He told me to sing it to somebody that I love, so I sang to my mom. She died of cancer a few years ago."

I don't exactly know how to put into words just how much that experience changed me, but it did change me. Since then, no matter what I play, be it complex and crazy or simple backbeats, I try to play it with every ounce of my soul. I try to fill my drums with as much of my soul as I can.

Not gonna lie. It takes a great deal of effort to play like that, but it's immensely rewarding. It's that whole, "What can I give to my music, the other musicians and the audience?" mentality, and I've come to love it, depend on it, and expect it of myself.

And if that's not weird enough for you, I've got one more. One night after a particularly amazing and enjoyable gig, I started doing something I've made a habit of - I put my hand on one of my drums and just said, "Thank you." I know it sounds really crazy, but I thank my instruments for allowing me to make music with them. It's humbling, and it reminds me that playing is a privilege, a team effort, and that I should never take it for granted.

Weirder yet? About a week ago, walking out of the gym, I looked up at the basketball hoop and softly said, "Thank you," and hoped nobody heard me. Because without the hoop, you can't, you know, uh.......never mind.

Happy drumming!