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. 

Interview on "Teach America Rhythm"

I've been neglecting the blog lately - due mostly to insane gig/rehearsal schedule - but I promise I've got some great stuff coming. 

A while back I was interviewed by Craig Stluka of the website Teach America Rhythm, and he let me know today that my page is live. There is a lot of great stuff on the website now, and he has much more to come in the near future. If you want to go straight to my page and hear the interview, you can find it here.

For all of us that have ventured online to both share and find information about music and drumming, it's nice to know that there are resources like this available.

Thanks again, Craig!

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!