I've been chasing a cymbal sound for 30 years and never even really came close to finding it.  Maybe that's a part of being an artist, or it's part of "the journey" in being a musician, chasing something that we never quite find.  Or maybe, that magical sound keeps evolving, but whatever it is, I'm still chasing it!


     Cymbals are the X factor of the kit for me.  Drum sounds are more predictable, more attainable to me, because you can choose the woods, the bearing edge cut, the hoop and you cane TUNE them, choose various kinds of heads and combinations of heads.  With cymbals, insofar as their intrinsic sound and feel, you can choose a certain alloy, a certain weight and profile, but still, you kind of get what you get.


     Of course, there are many things that go into your cymbal sound; your touch, your stick, your intention, the part of the cymbal your play on, the dynamics and of course, YOU.  However, cymbals have that mystical, otherworldly thing that goes beyond description and has remained a mystery to me for years.


     Over the years I have gone thru so many phases: Old Ks that always had some kind of weirdness, Old As that sounded good, but still had a clumsy sounding bell, Sabian HH Sound Controls that had a beautiful oceanic sound but too much so, Paiste Traditionals that had this sort of clangy sound to the bell, Bosphorus Master Vintage that had a beautiful under stated woody sound, but void of musical overtones and Sabian Artisans that are a little too thick...  why does it have to be so confusing?


     And of course, it's one thing to find a cymbal that you love, but quite another to have a whole set that works together.  (maybe that's another post in itself)


     Of course, cymbals ain't cheap.  So, if  you're on a budget, as most musicians this day in age are, it's a constant quest of turning over cymbals, buying/selling, to find something that you really love.  You have to be absolutely tenacious and unyielding in your quest, and also gotta have some luck!
​

     So, last night I had a  chance to visit a cymbal smith, Jesse Simpson, in Brooklyn last night.  It was well worth the trip.  As I stepped into his shop, I felt like I was transported to an alchemists lab.  Finally, I was going to get some answers and some knowledge about cymbals that could help me evolve my conception of cymbals. 


     Jesse answered all my questions and filled me in on some of the things that determine the sound and some of the things that don't effect the sound quite so much.  I learned about the cymbal "profile" the hammering patterns, the balance of thickness in a cymbal, the lathing, etc...  Jesse explained some of the myths of breaking a cymbal in (burying it, playing it really loud with heavy mallets, turning it inside out 50 times)  It was fascinating to finally get some knowledge and de-mystify some of this stuff.  And Jesse is just a cool dude, he's not out to soak anybody for cash, he's not looking for accolades... he just digs making and modifying cymbals.  Clearly this man has a passion for what he is doing.  Respect and admiration to him for going for it!


     I also brought in a few of my Paiste traditional series cymbals that have always had some kind of "clangy" tones in them and Jesse evaluated them and explained to me why that is.  I love those cymbals about 70% and the other 30% keeps me from really wanting to play them that much.  So, Jesse is going to "modify" the cymbals with some additional hammering and lathing to bring out the qualities that I feel the cymbals are lacking.  I'm very excited!


     So, the quest continues, but I now feel I am closer to the answer than before.  I will keep tenaciously searching, digging and feeding this obsession until, well, let's just leave it at that... until.... 

Today I was thinking about all the great drummers I've enjoyed so much over the years and how some of them transcend the idiom, some of them transcend the drums themselves. 

Ever hear Roy Haynes play funk?  Or Mel Lewis play a funky backbeat?  Or hear Tony Williams play a rock feeling?  It's still totally them, still has their fingerprint all over it, it's improvised and loose, but it's not "stock" by a long shot.  It's their personality, their sound, their ideas, transcending the idiom.  

You transcend the idiom by learning the vocabulary and the devices, the nuts and bolts, etc... then you're getting started.  

On the flip side, check how the drummer on Marvin Gaye's "What's Goin' On" plays a jazzy three feel.  Or check the loose feel that Stevie Wonder plays drums on a song like "Seems So Long"
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Or check how Paul McCartney plays drums on his first two solo albums and also on "Chaos and Creation", the way they both orchestrate for the music when they play drums is so perfect, so natural and easy sounding.

They transcend the drums, by not thinking like drummers.  How can they?  They play all the instruments and the drums are just one part of it all.

How can drummers do this?  To free themselves of the patternistic trappings of the trap set?

They are not thinking about what they are playing.  They are thinking about what they are doing.  And that function doesn't change all that much from idiom to idiom.  I mean, in be-bop a drummer may be employing a conversational and melodic approach as opposed to in rock or funk a more beat oriented, repetitive approach.  But essentially, they're doing the same thing.  Serving the music.  And hey, a rock song can have conversational/melodic drums in it, too, if the music asks, answer.

Always play for the music.  The Melody.  The Form.  The changes.  The dynamics.  The statement being made. The musical vision, the composers intent. The energy.

Remember, it's not about what you're playing, it's about what you're doing. 

What is practice?

That's a good question.  There are more kinds of practice than one may think.  As a noun, a practice is an ongoing carrying out of a profession.  Like a law practice.  As a verb, practice can mean to perform a particular skill in order to improve or become proficient. 

Going with the latter and applied to the practicing of a musical instrument, there are different kinds of practice within that definition.

Practice to learn a skill. 
Practice to become proficient at the skill.
Practice to master the skill.
Practice to maintain the skill. 
Practice to integrate the skill into musical action.

Wow, that's a lot of practice!

The drums are a very physical instrument. The drum set has been referred to by the great Max Roach as a "four limbed monster" and indeed he's right.  The manipulation of the sticks and pedals to get the multiple instruments to all speak as one rhythm, one sound, takes a lot of work.  It takes a certain amount of conditioning of the muscles and mind.

So, you have a "conditioning" kind of practice that you must deal with in order to train your muscles.  Olympic athletes know this well.  Have you ever watched the Olympics and marveled at the precision, the timing, the confidence, the clutch performance of the athletes?  That certainly doesn't happen by accident, or even with mere "practice".  It happens with an intelligent and analytical approach to training, conditioning, muscle memory, mental toughness, self discipline, motivation and probably some qualities there aren't even names for.  Let's call that inspiration.

Let's break it down further.

Practice to learn a skill:  slow, concentrated practice of the skill to teach the muscles and mind how to respond.  Paying close attention to form, feel and sound production, we are literally teaching our neurological system and brain how to fire together.  We are wiring the action into our brain.

Practice to proficiency:  to be able to perform/execute the skill upon command with good form and control.

Practice to mastery:  to be able to execute the skill at any tempo, any dynamic level, under any circumstances, at any time. 

Practice to maintain:  as they say, use it or lose it.  This kind of practice is usually a daily ritualistic practice of going over what we have mastered in order to keep what we have worked so hard to master.  What we have mastered is like a jumping off point where we move onto to the next plateau.

Practice to integrate the skill:  for musicians, this would mean utilizing the skill within a musical performance context, usually playing with other musicians (but not always) and to be able to maintains ones ease, concentration and form in the "heat of battle".  For athletes, this would be in an actual competition.

A lot of practice indeed, but if you break it down into different types of practice, one can begin to put it into perspective and begin to understand how a master musician attains that level of play.  Obviously, there are intangibles; talent, culture, opportunity, environment, tenacity, goals, vision.  However, if we understand what we are doing when we practice; learning, polishing, mastering, maintaing, integrating, then it doesn't seem quite so daunting, dry or academic.  It makes total sense. 

Thanks for reading, let's go hit the practice room!

What is practice?

That's a good question.  There are more kinds of practice than one may think.  As a noun, a practice is an ongoing carrying out of a profession.  Like a law practice.  As a verb, practice can mean to perform a particular skill in order to improve or become proficient. 

Going with the latter and applied to the practicing of a musical instrument, there are different kinds of practice within that definition.

Practice to learn a skill. 
Practice to become proficient at the skill.
Practice to master the skill.
Practice to maintain the skill. 
Practice to integrate the skill into musical action.

Wow, that's a lot of practice!

The drums are a very physical instrument. The drum set has been referred to by the great Max Roach as a "four limbed monster" and indeed he's right.  The manipulation of the sticks and pedals to get the multiple instruments to all speak as one rhythm, one sound, takes a lot of work.  It takes a certain amount of conditioning of the muscles and mind.

So, you have a "conditioning" kind of practice that you must deal with in order to train your muscles.  Olympic athletes know this well.  Have you ever watched the Olympics and marveled at the precision, the timing, the confidence, the clutch performance of the athletes?  That certainly doesn't happen by accident, or even with mere "practice".  It happens with an intelligent and analytical approach to training, conditioning, muscle memory, mental toughness, self discipline, motivation and probably some qualities there aren't even names for.  Let's call that inspiration.

Let's break it down further.

Practice to learn a skill:  slow, concentrated practice of the skill to teach the muscles and mind how to respond.  Paying close attention to form, feel and sound production, we are literally teaching our neurological system and brain how to fire together.  We are wiring the action into our brain.

Practice to proficiency:  to be able to perform/execute the skill upon command with good form and control.

Practice to mastery:  to be able to execute the skill at any tempo, any dynamic level, under any circumstances, at any time. 

Practice to maintain:  as they say, use it or lose it.  This kind of practice is usually a daily ritualistic practice of going over what we have mastered in order to keep what we have worked so hard to master.  What we have mastered is like a jumping off point where we move onto to the next plateau.

Practice to integrate the skill:  for musicians, this would mean utilizing the skill within a musical performance context, usually playing with other musicians (but not always) and to be able to maintains ones ease, concentration and form in the "heat of battle".  For athletes, this would be in an actual competition.

A lot of practice indeed, but if you break it down into different types of practice, one can begin to put it into perspective and begin to understand how a master musician attains that level of play.  Obviously, there are intangibles; talent, culture, opportunity, environment, tenacity, goals, vision.  However, if we understand what we are doing when we practice; learning, polishing, mastering, maintaing, integrating, then it doesn't seem quite so daunting, dry or academic.  It makes total sense. 

Thanks for reading, let's go hit the practice room!

What lies at the root of our actions?  What is our "Why"?

In regards to music, playing, practicing and improving; motivation is key.

Recently a parent of a student came to me and said his son was practicing 15 minutes a day, like I suggested in the beginning, but that his practice routine hadn't grown… in 2 years.  And as a result, his playing hasn't really grown as much as he'd like.  

It got me thinking about what drives us.  What motivates us.  What's within us.  

A wise man once told me "There are no officials in life who are going to blow a whistle on us if we don't practice.  It's something that you either do, or you don't do."

Further, yes, you can practice regularly and maybe not really improve.  If that's the case, then you have to ask yourself WHY you're practicing, what your goals are and most of all, is it enjoyable for you or is it a drag and a chore?

A teacher can shine a light on the path, but the student must walk the path themselves.

I can't tell you what to like about music and playing.

What motivates you to play will motivate you to practice.  And what motivates you to practice is your desire to attain, to understand, to master, to move to the next thing, to build on what you've gained already.  

When a student comes to me with a desire, a goal, then my duty is done for me, almost. 

On the flip side, when I have to practically beg a student to bring in a song they love and really want to be able to play, or beg them to go out to a jam session and sit in, or practically plead with them to get the Charles Wilcoxon book, then the chore is mine.

Some young aspiring players, you can't keep the instrument away from them, as soon as they come home from school they head straight for their horn, the piano, the drums, the guitar.  And they play it out of sheer joy.  They've made a connection to it, to music, and they are drawn to it.

Some musicians practice out of love for the music, so they can honor the music that they hold in high regard, to be able to play it right.  They practice to be able to enhance the music and the musicians they are playing with.  They practice because they want to improve, constantly.  The best musicians practice constantly in their minds, they are always thinking about music, art, expression.  They are literally obsessed with music, not just their instrument, but music as a whole.

Some musicians practice out of fear of not being good.  Their motivation is suspect, are they really in it for the right reasons?  They may thrive on competition, not necessarily musical expression or understanding.  And to be very honest here, if you have to be begged to practice, or if you feel it's a drag, then maybe you need to try something else.

Playing music is something that maybe good in theory, might sound like a good idea, but have you defined your "Why"?  Do you know why you're doing it?  Most say, because it's fun, because I enjoy it.  If that's the case, then use that for motivation.  

Some players truly enjoy improving.  They live to wake up and play and to experience improvement every week.  In fact, they expect to get better and they do whatever they have to do to make improvements.  Some go to quite extreme lengths, moving to another city, practicing for many hours a day.  

Some watch the clock as they practice, some sit down with something in mind and will not stop until they attain it.  

If you have hit a wall in your practice, in your musical life.  Here are some keys to working through the wall and getting to the other side:

Find what motivates you.  This could be a tough question, but it is absolutely necessary.
Define your "Why"
Tap your curiosity.
Ask what it is you love about music.
Ask what your goals are.  Short term and long term.  
Go beyond what your teacher asks you to do.  And remember your teacher is only pointing you in the right direction, you must walk the path.
Find something you absolutely want to learn to do and pursue it relentlessly until you get it.  Not because your teacher asks you to do it.
Never stop, even the best players have periods in which they have to ask these questions and re-define what their goals are.  

I also think it's important to identify what practice is.  That's what we'll deal with in the next post.

Thanks for reading, now let's define that "Why"

  
Despite an epic crash and several stitches to the chin, I tried again and succeeded.   

When I was 10 I started racing.  BMX.  We hauled the bike up to Quincy, Ill to the dirt race track and I competed in three "motos" a day.  Sometimes it was glorious, winning a trophy against the Quincy boys.  Other times, a devastating crash would send me back to Hannibal with bruises and broken ego.  But it was an adventure.  When the lights went from red, to yellow, to green, a horn blasted and the gate dropped.  What a rush!

My bike afforded me acceptance into a group of older boys who, rode the bike trails in Hannibal and raced at Quincy.  We became pretty tight and the summers were adventures in dare-devil jumps, muddy trails, racing down St. Mary's avenue, searching for that next awesome ramp or natural berm to jump on.  

My bike became a part of my identity.  I never wanted to go anywhere without it.  

BMX was my passion.  I raced for three seasons, first on a Mongoose (I cut a lot of lawns and raked a lot of leaves to save up for it), then on a Kuwahara (the bike that was made famous in the movie E.T.).  Even after a major crash landed me in the hospital with potentially ruptured intestines (luckily they were not) the racing continued until adolescence came on.  



Then, dolescence came.  Jr. High.  Jazz Band.  Drumline.  Big Changes.

As music became my main focus, I sold the Kuwaraha for a Zildjian ride cymbal.  My first Zildjian!  Exciting times!

However, I still needed to get around Hannibal autonomously, so started riding my brother's Schwinn touring bike.  A very nice machine from the early 80s.  It was, of course, much easier to pedal over the hills of Hannibal, a welcome upgrade!

I saw a couple cycling movies that inspired me.  "Quicksilver" with Kevin Bacon playing a down and out wall street trader to takes to cycling around NYC and "American Flyers" with Kevin Costner about a couple guys bent on riding.  And of course one of my favorite movies of all time "Breaking Away", a coming of age movie about kids in a small town who are looked down upon because they are poor, but in the end they win the big cycling race.  I still love that movie and will watch it over and over.  I wanted badly to cycle, but the gear was so expensive, I had to choose between cycling gear and drums.  It was no contest.  The drums won.

I chose music. Moved to Kansas City.  No time for the bike. And besides, I couldn't carry a drum kit on a bike!

In college my beloved old Schwinn fell to the wayside as I joined a band, moved into a bachelor pad, and simply couldn't afford to maintain the bike.  It rusted.  I moved out and left the bike where it lay.  A hasty decision as life as a musician picked up full steam.  

I moved to NYC.  Lived in Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan for 10 years.  Riding a bike seemed like suicide, human beings speeding around in traffic seemed so vulnerable,  not to mention I still couldn't afford to spend money on one.  Anyways, I worked non-stop on my music and survival in NYC, a bike was last on the list.  But still, somewhere in my mind I thought it would be so cool to ride again, even if only on the bike path around the city.  But I didn't act on it.

Then I moved to New Jersey.  The traffic is so dense and moves so fast, I figured I couldn't trust my life to these people.  Thoughts of buying a bike were quickly dismissed.  Another 10 years went by as I worked non-stop on my music.

Then my wife and I discovered the Greenway at Metuchen: a 3.5 mile paved trail, specifically for bikes and walking.  How intriguing!  I began thinking about getting a bike now.  Maybe this is the ticket!  No traffic! And I figured, I deserve to treat myself.  Life in NYC/NJ has been stressful as hell and relentless and draining.  I needed a new view.  Some oxygen.  Some freedom.

A quick scan of bikes on Craigslist revealed a shocking and exciting prospect:  The same exact Schwinn Sports Tourer that I rode in high school, even the same colors, was for sale, renovated and ready to ride.  I jumped in the car, drove to Brooklyn and bought it on the spot.

After taking it to Jay's Cycles in Westfield for a tune up, new pedals and a new seat, I set out on my first ride.  It was such a rush to feel that freedom again, that youthful adventure, the feeling of exploration and challenge.  Let's see what this bike can do!

I took it on the Greenway and I'll tell you what, man, the wind, the sound of the bike, that familiar feel, the freedom... something in me woke up that had been asleep for, lemme see, almost 30 years.  The kid in me came bursting to the surface like a person held underwater coming up for air.  A grin came over my face.  The cool air on my skin felt so good.  The fluidity of the bike, the grace of it, being one with the machine.  I almost started crying, man!

Since that day a few weeks ago I have increased my rides.  I've ridden The 12 mile stretch at Sandy Hook Beach.  Then the 20 mile stretch from Keyport to Sandy Hook.  Then I did 40 miles from Freehold to Sandy Hook to Asbury.  Feel fine afterwards.    Im taking it slow.  It's getting better and better.  If I prove to myself that I will stick with it, which I can't imagine letting this go again, I will invest in a modern bike next year and head to the mountains of Pennsylvania or upstate NY.  

How could I have let this go?  Well, it doesn't matter.  Why?  Because bikes don't go in reverse.  They only go FORWARD. ​

I first heard of musicians doing "clinics" when I was in high school.  My dad read in the St. Louis paper that an amazing drummer, Dave Weckl, was doing a doing a drum clinic for Drum Headquarters Drum Shop.  I was curious, so my dad took me down to St. Louis, a 2 hr trip from Hannibal, Mo, to check out Weckl's clinic.  

It was hosted in a high school auditorium, which was pretty full.  There were a lot of guys wearing their Zildjian shirts and hats, I was one of them, and there was an expectancy in the air.  Something big was going to happen.

Dave put on a fantastic show, his kit was hooked up to the latest in drum processors and he played with some pre-recorded tracks that showed his orchestration and groove skills.  The audience was truly blown away, I know I was. After Dave played a couple tracks he spoke in depth about his approach to the drums; his concept of snare drum technique, his kit, orchestrating musically, tuning, and the New York music scene.  Weckl spoke at length about New York and that there was room for everybody and that if a musician was very serious, they should think about going to New York.  That was maybe the first time I thought seriously about it.

Over the years I went to a few more clinics and they all had their own vibe.  Ed Soph was very matter of fact and no-nonsense.  Gregg Bissonette was high energy and entertaining, while also very grounded and conversational.  Louis Bellson.  Dennis Chambers.  Simon Phillips.  Tony Williams.  Kenwood Dennard.  Victor Lewis. Every clinic I ever went to I can remember something interesting about each one of them, I came away with something to think about.

I also dug the clinics by pianists and horn players:  Bob Brookmeyer, Clark Terry, Lew Soloff, Clare Fischer, Gerald Wilson, Phil Woods, Kenny Werner.  They all came to UMKC where I was studying and spent some time with us.  All amazing musicians with a lot to share.  Just being in the same room with them, listening to their ideas, elevated those who came to listen.

So, now I'm doing my own clinics, sponsored by Canopus Drum Company.  In 2015 we had a great day at Explorer's Percussion with Wes Falcouner and his wonderful family.  Wes and Lorainne have been friends since the 80s.  They have one of the absolute best and most successful drum shops in the world.  

In my clinics, I like to tell stories.  Musically and otherwise.  Melodically or rhythmically and of course, both.  I talk little about mechanics and more about the "Why" behind our playing.  I talk about health and fitness, jumping rope to tune your body's rhythm..  Audience members ask questions, I try to answer them by relating my own experiences.  

I will be returning to Explorers to perform an clinic and will have special guest, vibraphonist Peter Schlamb, an amazing musician/composer/artist.  We'll cover topics that relate to not only the drums, but to percussive instruments and how the drums and vibes work together without getting in each other's way.  

Well, that's my post on clinics.  Hope you enjoyed it and if you live in KC come check out the clinic at Explorer's Percussion, October 24th, 2018!!

Hey Everybody!

Welcome to my world!

I like to write about things I am currently doing in life; jumping rope, riding bikes, reading books, taking piano lessons, education, clinics, students, hiking with my wife, food, travels and of course... music and everything to do with it.  

I have a new album coming out called "The Other Side of the Story".  I'll tell you all about it!

I have many thoughts on teaching, so there are lots of posts about the various issues I deal with in helping great young drummers discover themselves.  

Cycling was a dream of mine when I was a teenager.  I stopped for many years to pursue my dreams in music, but I am coming back to cycling and want to tell the world how amazing cycling is!

One of my favorite physical activities on the planet, next to playing music, is JUMPING ROPE!  I'll tell you why.

And, I love my life.  I have an amazing wife, family and friends stretched out all over the country.  From my roots in Hannibal, Missouri, to Kansas City to New York and New Jersey.  Through music, I have met a lot of great people.  I find that if you put out a good vibe, it will come back to you.  

That's about it, enjoy the blog and see you in the next post!

Matt