tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27593304615221043762024-02-19T03:28:13.357-05:00The Big BangMy journey with the djembeRachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-20972006137147999732012-06-17T22:50:00.002-04:002012-06-17T22:50:11.770-04:00dundunfolaSince coming back from Mali this year, I have noticed a vast improvement in my confidence as a drummer. I seem to have passed some sort of benchmark, where now I am no longer gripped with fear when I play in public with my teacher. I am not sure why. I think that this year, in Bamako, I was working with a teacher who required me to step up to the plate and I did. It was exhilarating and challenging and great fun. By the end of the two weeks, he had me playing all the breaks and more or less leading the class for a piece called Jinafoli. I feel very happy that I was able to do what he was asking of me.<br />
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From that point on, I have felt a much greater sense of confidence. I am not as afraid to make mistakes and am growing to enjoy playing in public or for dance classes more and more. Over the last five years, I have worked with some amazing teachers and every one of them has given me a great gift.<br />
<br />
Sidy Maiga- my master teacher. I have been apprenticing with him for 5 years and have been hugely blessed by his incredible skill, both as a drummer and a teacher. He is also one of my best friends. <br />
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Billy Konaté- a great weekend workshop in Boston. He seriously put me through my paces.<br />
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Wadaba- Old school village style from Guinea. Loved it.<br />
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Mazé Kouyaté- Oh, my sweet friend. In just two weeks you taught me so much about drumming and life. I will never, ever, forget you. And for me, Maraka will always have a special place in my heart. And Mazé, your drum is my most prized possession. Thank you.<br />
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Makan Koné- Makan, you are an exuberant and joyful player and a patient and kind teacher. It is a pleasure studying with you!<br />
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Alassane Sissoko- Thank you, Alassane, for your excellent style.<br />
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Fousseiny Kouyaté- As gentle as your brother. <br />
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Madou Djan Diarra- You have a special place in my heart, Madou Djan. You built my beautiful dunduns and taught me Jinafoli. You fixed my sticks and I carry the bag your father made everywhere. Thank you so much. I love playing with you!<br />
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And though I didn't take a class with him, I have to mention Yacouba Sissoko, an amazing musician. The morning you played ngoni and we sang together is a great memory for me. What a joyful noise we made! I felt fearless when we sang together... and it stands out as a moment of pure delight.<br />
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It is all of these amazing players and friends who have helped me grow as a musician. I am so grateful to all of them.<br />
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<br />Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-64927832887617206132011-12-03T17:33:00.001-05:002011-12-03T17:37:31.280-05:00Reheading with cowskin<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFN8Qx3ZO2Plk-YibYhse4cIN1gUBtMezoWrNyPJQW1AvHZ64blMiZN9yUh_AMDLGgaxD6XjXFj_mUxPj2v9UDeQjXbgz9WTsckmNtzoNrBxnFHFg5nTJaCpHlIf1kpW34fYBt81mV5yJh/s1600/shaving+Maz%25C3%25A9%2527s+drum.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFN8Qx3ZO2Plk-YibYhse4cIN1gUBtMezoWrNyPJQW1AvHZ64blMiZN9yUh_AMDLGgaxD6XjXFj_mUxPj2v9UDeQjXbgz9WTsckmNtzoNrBxnFHFg5nTJaCpHlIf1kpW34fYBt81mV5yJh/s1600/shaving+Maz%25C3%25A9%2527s+drum.JPG" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipB3uWPugq5fUNLCu4kyFG7EWcYL2bjEqAwrinEphOFX7funaHTwyHitCPy8kj2KLdb1PUKY3a0oRDSEDsG19mOeuRYADWOFbS5gNKOQDBT9dtLRQQ232sqNBTsBLjqj7Bs8vS-e2PIMuJ/s1600/Maz%25C3%25A9%2527s+drum+with+hair.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4Xl4W-Zj1jzmV85e_8Q2ddeHovw4c_HeV08PmuhLUje8WqcLw-BiAfumy5TDdi4UO7kARNBWtd2dSdx4_Anttp9AhuI2EqzX9_JgPtGRtBTv-n_W-LxiGQif439zV-abZf3tH2amHW3D/s1600/Maz%25C3%25A9%2527s+drum2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4Xl4W-Zj1jzmV85e_8Q2ddeHovw4c_HeV08PmuhLUje8WqcLw-BiAfumy5TDdi4UO7kARNBWtd2dSdx4_Anttp9AhuI2EqzX9_JgPtGRtBTv-n_W-LxiGQif439zV-abZf3tH2amHW3D/s1600/Maz%25C3%25A9%2527s+drum2.JPG" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipB3uWPugq5fUNLCu4kyFG7EWcYL2bjEqAwrinEphOFX7funaHTwyHitCPy8kj2KLdb1PUKY3a0oRDSEDsG19mOeuRYADWOFbS5gNKOQDBT9dtLRQQ232sqNBTsBLjqj7Bs8vS-e2PIMuJ/s1600/Maz%25C3%25A9%2527s+drum+with+hair.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipB3uWPugq5fUNLCu4kyFG7EWcYL2bjEqAwrinEphOFX7funaHTwyHitCPy8kj2KLdb1PUKY3a0oRDSEDsG19mOeuRYADWOFbS5gNKOQDBT9dtLRQQ232sqNBTsBLjqj7Bs8vS-e2PIMuJ/s1600/Maz%25C3%25A9%2527s+drum+with+hair.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4Xl4W-Zj1jzmV85e_8Q2ddeHovw4c_HeV08PmuhLUje8WqcLw-BiAfumy5TDdi4UO7kARNBWtd2dSdx4_Anttp9AhuI2EqzX9_JgPtGRtBTv-n_W-LxiGQif439zV-abZf3tH2amHW3D/s1600/Maz%25C3%25A9%2527s+drum2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipB3uWPugq5fUNLCu4kyFG7EWcYL2bjEqAwrinEphOFX7funaHTwyHitCPy8kj2KLdb1PUKY3a0oRDSEDsG19mOeuRYADWOFbS5gNKOQDBT9dtLRQQ232sqNBTsBLjqj7Bs8vS-e2PIMuJ/s1600/Maz%25C3%25A9%2527s+drum+with+hair.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>In 2009, I came back from Mali with a beautiful
old djembe from one of my teachers. Within days the vintage goatskin
head popped. Since I was planning to head it in cowskin anyway, I
wasn't too upset.<br /><br />Well, this poor drum went through some crazy
stuff. My teacher put a thin calfskin on it and it sounded awful, then
popped. I bought a couple of nice cowskin rounds from Nate at One Tree
and Sidy tried to put the thinner one on, but the rings were too small.
So I asked my husband to make a new set of rings, but they were too
small too. In the mean time, the whole thing was sort of back burnered
because I had taken up dunun.<br /><br />Well, to make a long story even
longer, I finally got the rings adjusted and in the process of all of
this, decided that since it <span style="font-size: small;">is my drum, I am going to bloody well build
it and skin it myself. <br /><br />I chose the thick skin from Nate. It is going to make a great bass djembe, I think.<br /><br />I
admit I was pretty scared when I pulled the skin out of the water this
morning. It was very thick to start with, and had swelled significantly
overnight. But I rolled up my sleeves and got to work and found it
wasn't really that much more difficult to work with than goat skin. My
rings were a good size, the rope is the perfect thickness (Thanks,
Shorty!) and all in all I just took it step by step.<br /><br />Sidy had
suggested that for the wet pull, I bring the skin to where I want it to
be for playing. I know this conflicts somewhat with the advice given
here on the forum to keep the skin high until it dries... but I decided
to go ahead and follow Sidy's advice. (He is my teacher, after all,
LOL)<br /><br />I have a funky old pulling bar and was extremely happy to discover that I was able to pull the wet skin down just fine. <br /><br />Once
the skin was where I wanted it, I had to trim the excess. I was
intimidated by this process, too, since the skin was so thick, but with a
razor blade, it actually went pretty easily.<br /><br />Finally, my next
step was to shave the hair. For the wet shave, I just used the razor
blade. I left the hair on the sides for later, once it is dry. The
drum really looks great and I am hoping it will sound great once it is
dry and tuned. </span><br />All in all, this process wasn't nearly as
difficult as I thought it would be. I think I may need help with the
dry pull and tuning, but I am really happy I was able to head my sweet
old drum myself.<br /><br />Will keep you posted on how it sounds!</div>Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-37129388059241858442011-11-24T13:00:00.001-05:002011-11-24T13:03:52.314-05:00The latest song listSongs I can play on the dunun:<br />
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<br />Dansa<br />
Madan<br />
Mendiani<br />
Maraka<br />
Wolosso<br />
Wasolonka<br />
Didadi<br />
Genbé<br />
Bobo<br />
Sunu<br />
Sandia<br />
Koreduga<br />
Mali Kadi (One of Sidy's pieces.)<br />
Sogonikun<br />
<br />Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-30478440293759896832011-11-19T12:32:00.001-05:002011-11-19T12:32:38.338-05:00Rocking the Bamako Style dununAfter almost a year and a half playing the dunun, I was still finding
myself choking at performances. I have wicked stage fright when it
comes to drumming and it inevitably happened that when I played in front
of people, I would mess up and get even MORE nervous. It was rough.<br /><br />In
addition, while I have good skill in terms of being able to pick up and
remember dunun parts very well, I was only really comfortable playing
them at moderate speed. So when I would play with Malians on stage, the
speed is way faster and my mind would start playing tricks on me. (Am I
in the right place in the rhythm? Can I keep up? Are my arms going to
fall off?) Crash.<br /><br />Last Friday I played ONE song for one of my
teacher's gigs. I was up on the stage with a Kora player (Yacouba
Diabaté),Nampé Sadio and Sidy. I was playing Mendiani, which I know
very well. And in the middle of the song, I started worrying that my
hands were cramping up. I freaked out, made a mistake, got back on track
and finished. <br /><br />The next day I was a mess. I was so frustrated
that I have been unable to get past this stage fright issue. I actually
cried, LOL. And then I started to think about what I wanted to
actually accomplish.<br /><br />I want to be able to play with Bamako
players at their speed. Nothing fancy, just keep up and not get lost in
the rhythm or scared or cramped up, just play at breakneck speed for
long periods of time without screwing up.<br /><br />This is such a
no-brainer it is embarrassing. I realized that in order to accomplish
this, I was going to have to.... wait for it.... <span style="font-style: italic;">practice.</span> Every day. For 30 to 40 minutes. At Bamako speed. Nonstop. <br /><br />Within
a day or two of starting a new practice regimen, I began to realize
that I don't have enough strength in my arms to be able to play for 40
minutes. My shoulders and neck were seizing up.... my arms were in
pain. I discussed this with my teacher, who gave me some pointers on
how to reduce the amount of muscle power necessary to make the sounds.
(Mostly involving relaxing your hands so that your arm muscles don't
have to work as hard.)<br /><br />I tried it. It worked. <br /><br />Now I am
able to play for 40 minutes straight at Bamako speed with fewer
mistakes, less fatigue and much more confidence. All in a week of daily
practice. <br /><br />I am sharing this because, well, it feels like a
little bit of a breakthrough. I am not sure that I will have less stage
fright next time I play out, but at least I will know that I am
physically capable of playing at Bamako speed for a full set.<br /><br />Practice.<br /><br />Who knew?Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-28724502232253063082011-06-04T12:02:00.002-04:002011-06-04T12:32:16.006-04:00The starting pointDuring labor, there are several points when the mother seems to begin the cycle over again. She goes through the physical and emotional stages again, seeming to get back to square one at several points throughout the process. <br /><br />I feel like I am doing that with my dundun playing right now. <br /><br />Last Saturday, I was playing with Sidy, Seydou and Rob for Brown University's graduation event for the Africana Studies department. We played for 2 hours straight, no breaks. It was exhilarating and tiring and lots of fun. I felt very happy that I seemed to have broken through my stage fright and was able to relax and focus and just play. I was very happy with how I played.<br /><br />But there was a moment when a door opened. Sidy started to play Sogonikun. He didn't say anything, just started to play the djembe part. I know this part pretty well. We have been playing Sogonikun in class lately. In my head, I knew it was Sogonikun... but for some reason I started to play the dundun part for Madan. Sidy shook his head at me. Within a moment or two I corrected myself, but afterwards I started to think about what had happened.<br /><br />Usually, Sidy will say the name of the piece we are going to play as he starts. And I have gotten pretty good at being able to just jump in and play any of the 13 or so rhythms I know. But it is the NAME that seems to trigger my brain and arms into action. I have come to depend on the spoken name to be the switch that turns on the rhythm.<br /><br />After last Saturday, I realized I needed to develop that same instant reflex with the djembe parts. I needed to be able to hear a djembe part and instantly know what to play on my dunduns. I decided I would ask Sidy to help me by 'quizzing me' with his drum.<br /><br />Yesterday, I met him for a lesson and was working on a new part. When we were winding down, he told me that he was going to play djembe and I needed to figure out what to play and just come in. I was pretty amazed that he had come up with the exact same response that I had to my mistake from last week.<br /><br />I was able to figure out the first two pieces, but it took me a LONG time. I had to listen and think and think and think until finally some little part of it would shout at me and I would start to play the dundun. He wasn't just playing the standard accompaniment... but rather was soloing. And yet, I absolutely should have been able to snap right to it.<br /><br />By the third rhythm, I was getting confused and couldn't get it at all. We tried a couple of more and I made mistakes. I would play the wrong piece.<br /><br />It was like a whole new world opened up in front of me. I realized that I had stepped into a new level, one that brought me right back to square one. Rewind 5 years and I am just picking up a djembe for the first time. Rewind 5 years and I am learning the accompaniment for Dansa, the solo phrases for Mendiani, the mind bending rhythms of Wasolonka.<br /><br />I said to Sidy that I wanted to cry, but it was the good kind of cry. The kind that is going to motivate me to work on this until I get it. The kind of cry that happens because I want to be better than I am. I told him I wanted to be the best white dundunfola he ever played with. Not that I am competitive at all, but I want to kick some cracker ass.<br /><br />I came home and made a sort of auditory set of flash cards by making a playlist on itunes of snippets of all the djembe parts I have recorded over the years. Then I put the play list on shuffle and listened and practiced recognizing the pieces and playing along with my dundun sticks. After awhile I realized that it has been so long since I played djembe, I was not recognizing all the solo parts, so I took out my drum and started working through the parts I was hearing. Slowly, painfully. God it would be so much easier if I was living in Bamako.<br /><br />But little by little, it started to come together. Oh yeah, that is the 4th solo from Sandia Sumale. That is that weird Dansa solo that we never really practiced, but Sidy played for us once. I remember that.... that was the Madan solo we never did in class, but I learned at one of our lessons.<br /><br />And so it went. Djembe on one side and dunduns on the other. I would play the dunduns if I figured out what I was listening to. If not, I would painstakingly work the djembe parts until it opened the little file in my brain that remembered them.<br /><br />I played for hours. And then, today, hours more. With more to come.<br /><br />I can do this. Square one never looked so good.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-75594472802714042752011-05-23T09:16:00.002-04:002011-05-23T09:27:33.255-04:00The new dunduns<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYuA0BHUaRHqIbibNyYFerojdsr35hyphenhyphenbHfDj_4AROJocuRBIiV6unsT_77oZmb36z8GD3zJ-rgzUJKhFck-tf8A08FBudBBIfYLl5220rcSfP_deD2a8si75ik3iy3A5Xv-xk0bpxpRQjj/s1600/IMG_0786_1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYuA0BHUaRHqIbibNyYFerojdsr35hyphenhyphenbHfDj_4AROJocuRBIiV6unsT_77oZmb36z8GD3zJ-rgzUJKhFck-tf8A08FBudBBIfYLl5220rcSfP_deD2a8si75ik3iy3A5Xv-xk0bpxpRQjj/s400/IMG_0786_1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609902483387995746" border="0" /></a><br />I can't believe I haven't posted to this blog since coming back from Mali in January. I can't believe I started a blog post with the most boring first line in the history of blogging.<br /><br />So, in a nutshell:<br /><br />Trip was amazing. I will post pictures and more details soon.<br /><br />I came back with a new set of dunduns. They are made of a much lighter wood, and are quite a bit smaller than the old behemoth I was playing. I have a small dununba and a kenkeni. I brought them back in duffel bags through the checked baggage on the airplane and they made it here safe and sound. (You should have seen me trying to wrangle all that luggage through Port Authority in NYC, though. It was hilarious. Luckily I had two unsuspecting teens with me who could help out.<br /><br />It was great fun seeing my new drums go from carved shells to finished products. On the last day in Mali, Madou Jean was over at the house pulling the skins.<br /><br />The advantage of the smaller drums is that they weigh much less and are easier to carry around. I have rigged up a miniature carabiner on both ends of the dununba so that I can attach the kenkeni to whichever end sounds best on that day. Then I strap it tight with a bungie cord. That way I can easily separate the drums for transport. Madou Jean even fashioned a carrying strap out of the extra tuning rope for the kenkeni, so I can toss it over my shoulder. All in all it is a very portable setup.<br /><br />And the drums sound delicious.<br /><br />The kenkeni, especially, has a gorgeous tone. The two drums are tuned to each other and just sound great together.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-20943828723884312562010-12-21T10:13:00.002-05:002010-12-21T10:24:22.530-05:00drum headsI have reheaded a couple of drums in the last two weeks, and let me tell you, it is hard work. My latest was done on Sunday and I am still feeling the effects of it. Sore muscles in my arms, legs, back. <br /><br />I remember once watching my teacher working on one of my drums. It was a moving and humbling experience. So much physical work. He was sweating and grimacing as he straddled the drum and tried to pull the rings down over the edge. His tools were simple: a big stick and his back muscles. And leg muscles. And arms.<br /><br />I actually felt moved to tears that it was so much effort and that he was willing to do it on my behalf. <br /><br />The thing that is crazy about heading a drum is that it is hard work no matter whether it is a beautiful Mali shell or a piece of junk from Ghana or Indonesia. <br /><br />Once I found a drum shell on Craig's list for $40. I showed Sidy a picture of it and asked him if it would be worth buying so I could practice heading. He told me he could tell from the picture that the drum was crap. It's base was off center, the bearing edge was cockeyed. He could tell that the interior carving was rough, just from looking at the shape of the outside. I was so new to drumming at that point I couldn't see what he was seeing, so I just took his word for it. Now I can spot a bad drum a mile away. It might be easier to carve a bad shell than a good one... but it is just as much work to rope it and put the head on. <br /><br />This week I was working on a poorly made drum that someone hired me to fix. The skin was a beauty... a spotted thick goatskin from Mali. My process is getting better. I am learning how to keep the rings even all around and pull them down to just the right level on the wet pull. In this drum's case, I don't even have to do a dry pull.... it dried nice and tight on it's own. But at the end of a long afternoon of physical work, we are left with a bad drum with a nice head.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-46450340180399035722010-10-30T18:06:00.003-04:002010-10-30T18:10:25.230-04:00And speaking of dun dunsI have been playing ballet style for a couple of months now and am absolutely grooving on it. I LOVE the dun duns!<br /><br />So far I know 5 songs:<br /><br />Sandia Sumali<br />Dansa<br />Maraka<br />Mendiani<br />Madan<br /><br />I am playing a set that includes a dununba and a kenkeni and am having a blast with them.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-60950533173288197272010-10-30T17:57:00.002-04:002010-10-30T18:06:36.592-04:00It's Dun DunOk, I am not sure how this happened. I have heard various accounts. But once and for all I want to clarify that the name of the big Malian (and Guinean) bass drums is <span style="font-style: italic;">dun dun. </span>It is pronounced 'doon doon'. It is not djun djun. It is not pronounced <span style="font-style: italic;">june june. <br /><br /></span>The story I have heard about the origin of this calamity of mispronunciation is that it started with Babatunde Olatunji, who is Nigerian. Somehow he started spelling dun dun with the 'j' because that is how the French spell djembe. (Which IS a 'j' sound, of course.) His mistake has infiltrated drumming circles around the world and has resulted in generations of Americans mispronouncing the name of the drum. The irony is that Babatunde isn't from a country that even has these bass drums.<br /><br />Another story I heard was that a West African drummer (could it have been Mamady?) kept calling the bass drums <span style="font-style: italic;">djun djuns</span> and when he was asked about it by someone who knew that the drums are called dun duns in West Africa, he laughed and said that he thought that was the American pronunciation of the drum and didn't want to confuse his students.<br /><br />So, ask a Malian, Guinean, Burkinabe, or Ivorian how to say the name of the drum and they will tell you:<br /><br />Dun dun. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-67880337710715062552010-10-18T08:51:00.002-04:002010-10-18T08:58:35.728-04:00dundunfolaFinally, after all this time, I asked Sidy to let me work on the dun duns. He has given me his ballet style set to work with and practice on. It is a huge old dununba and a beautifully carved kenkeni that get lashed together and played vertically. <br /><br />Playing dun duns is a very different experience. The muscles you use are different because you are holding sticks. The role of the duns duns in the ensemble is to keep time and create a bassline melody that holds the rest of the drums together. It isn't easy for me because after 4 1/2 years of trying to follow the dun duns, I now have to stop listening to the other drums and just keep a steady rhythm myself. It is especially a challenge in class when the djembes are wandering all over the place, LOL. <br /><br />I love these drums, though. I have been practicing every single day. I set the drums up in the corner of my dining room and every time I walk by, I sit down to play for awhile. My house vibrates, LOL.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-44514171174387011022010-06-18T09:02:00.003-04:002010-06-18T09:22:12.466-04:00Mazé's drum<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1lnK2rBnAyVNXCxMpfBTLjjLxD6odY_OI_D_D7AHrYksLpfN8ow6qTOND2sHnzS7gSyUSehEyuQzpXqwBupaa6uaSvNsE3VY6PY9xhj9t3RNq98meJiteq8XdsD_fhh_TcI-lCZBntp9C/s1600/iphone+260.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1lnK2rBnAyVNXCxMpfBTLjjLxD6odY_OI_D_D7AHrYksLpfN8ow6qTOND2sHnzS7gSyUSehEyuQzpXqwBupaa6uaSvNsE3VY6PY9xhj9t3RNq98meJiteq8XdsD_fhh_TcI-lCZBntp9C/s400/iphone+260.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484103375579899682" /></a><br />It was love at first sight, really. Against the backdrop of newly painted walls and pristine tile floors, Mazé's drum was showing it's age. An ancient goatskin. Dust-caked green ropes. A few cracks in the base, repaired with wood glue and sawdust. And yet, even among the lovely new drums, this one stood out. It had a gorgeous round bowl and was made of some incredibly dense hardwood that weighed a ton. And when Mazé Kouyaté picked it up to play, the sound was so sweet and full and rich it carried me away.<br /><br />I couldn't believe my luck when I asked if I could buy it and Mazé said yes. I wrapped it in towels and stuffed it with clothes and carefully fitted it into a duffel bag for the long trip back to the United States.<br /><br />Within a week the head popped. I was sitting at my desk and suddenly heard the sickening sound of a skin giving way. No matter, I thought. I wanted to put on a cowskin anyway.<br /><br />So I ordered new rope for it, and wrapped the rope ring in pale green fabric before looping the black alpine rope around it. I began to look for a cowskin, but my teacher said he would get one. Weeks dragged by. Then months. <br /><br />Then one day, in class, my teacher got a phone call. I could tell something was wrong, but he wouldn't say what it was. He told me to call him when I got home. Half and hour later I called him and heard the devastating news. My sweet friend in Mali was dead. I was grief stricken. I cried for weeks. <br /><br />And the drum sat.<br /><br />A year went by. A year filled with busy, change and challenge. New job, growing children, a flood that nearly destroyed my husband's business. <br /><br />Then finally, one day in class, my teacher handed me the keys to his car and said there was something for me on the back seat. It was the drum. Skinned. Tuned. Beautiful.<br /><br />This is a djembefola's drum. This is a solo screeching loud bad-ass drum. It is a man's drum, for sure. Big and wide and heavy, with a callous raising cowskin head and rope strong enough to climb mountains with. And it is my drum. And Mazé's drum. And when I play it, I play better than I really am. <br /><br />Next time I rehead it, I am wrapping the ring in yellow. The color of the shirt Mazé wore the last time I saw him. The color of his last drum. The color of the bright Mali sun.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-21238728463147486592009-12-06T18:19:00.005-05:002009-12-06T18:35:07.302-05:00No where else<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvSl96whyphenhyphenkYEQuEr2yCvy70_8RmeMtGbzWbZS6Iw6DXkYEBCaYabjCSONLC7RietLexVgsgrRDz1_lmV0xK4Wdb90dUH1YzAazXDP8AsZbT5uQ9FqlHcFk4ljwlYWRLOp9XYl9mCnoV4w/s1600-h/Maze.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 373px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvSl96whyphenhyphenkYEQuEr2yCvy70_8RmeMtGbzWbZS6Iw6DXkYEBCaYabjCSONLC7RietLexVgsgrRDz1_lmV0xK4Wdb90dUH1YzAazXDP8AsZbT5uQ9FqlHcFk4ljwlYWRLOp9XYl9mCnoV4w/s400/Maze.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412269732202508530" /></a><br />I have been mourning my friend Maze a lot lately. It has been a very private, difficult thing. <br /><br />Because none of my family ever knew him. They never got to meet him or hear him play his drum, or see the gentle beauty of his soul. <br /><br />The other day I was driving to work listening to my field recordings from Mali. I have one, in particular, that is a recording of Sidy teaching Maze a song he wrote. <br /><br />There I was, on a beautiful sunny day, listening to this sweet music, which brought me back, instantly, to the courtyard of our house in Mali, with Maze and his gorgeous new drum. I could not hold back the tears.<br /><br />Maze died in late May, and by June I was working at an incredibly demanding job. And I didn't get to go to any kind of funeral or memorial event. And I didn't get to really talk about it with anyone. And even when I did, it really didn't help. Because there is no help for a loss like this. And really, no one wants to talk about someone else's grief, do they? This is a sadness that I carry alone. <br /><br />So I write on this blog, which really no one reads. Because I just have to say that <br /><br />I miss Maze Kouyate. <br /><br />My life will never be the same for having met him. And it will never be the same for having lost him so suddenly and unexpectedly.<br /><br />Tu me manques, mon cher.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-49318061866609639332009-12-06T00:50:00.002-05:002009-12-06T00:55:23.216-05:00FinallyMy goatskin djembe is done. After fits and starts, it has a new skin and sounds fantastic. <br /><br />The first replacement sounded like crap because I didn't put it on well. Sidy tried to fix it for me, but the damage was already done. Then, when he was tuning it for me, the new head popped. What a ton of work gone to waste.<br /><br />The drum sat for a long time until finally, this week, Sidy had time to do another head. This time he did the whole thing, so it is perfect. He brought it over yesterday and finished tightening the vertical ropes while I practiced sumale. I still can't get over how amazing it is to watch him work on a drum. It is a full body experience, squatting on the drum, which is lying on it's side, pulling the ropes with a hunk of hardwood stick. So much physical energy goes into it. I swear I want to build a pulling stand sometime. It would save so much work.<br /><br />The drum sounds gorgeous. I tell you this shell is just amazing. And this new, thin, skin, is dry and crisp and oh so sweet, even without a full tuning. I am so happy to have it back. <br /><br />I missed my drum.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-71998157339170653852009-10-17T21:14:00.002-04:002009-10-17T21:17:59.888-04:00Billy KonateThe son of possibly the most famous djembefola of all, is teaching a workshop this weekend and I have been going and dang, I am having fun. <br /><br />Billy is a great teacher, I think. He gauges the skills of his students very accurately, then pushes you to your limit in the gentlest possible way. <br /><br />I will happily write up a full report when it is all over, but in the mean time, if you have the opportunity to study with him while he is here (just three short weeks, sigh.) GO! <br /><br />Oregon next. Then back to Boston. <br /><br />Whirlwind gig.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-15820390573743187792009-07-17T06:42:00.001-04:002009-07-17T06:44:02.479-04:00Sound SessionLast week, I went to Black Rep for Afro-Sonic. And how 'bout that Sidy Maiga dragging me onstage and inviting me to play?<br /><br />I had a great time, and some wonderful new blisters to show for my set. (I was playing someone else's drum. Thanks, Mike, for letting me sit in....)<br /><br />I tell you what. I have gotten over my fear and all I feel when I play is JOY.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-6482845496991755352009-07-07T11:35:00.002-04:002009-07-07T11:43:00.653-04:00Soaked to the skin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5rjn1dgV16-Lrv1r4JuxUvdiyGs-bZ7_Zmjyg4rbxqlElGy_5zTPZqZcyuuO_4AbsW4ojHx1o8MQ1LRMVZqAUKQBGz8_xOjQy7i1ilTxKSQYCms2JEkAKpMyFbFyvYC64rARgG09qxDfp/s1600-h/iphone+074.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5rjn1dgV16-Lrv1r4JuxUvdiyGs-bZ7_Zmjyg4rbxqlElGy_5zTPZqZcyuuO_4AbsW4ojHx1o8MQ1LRMVZqAUKQBGz8_xOjQy7i1ilTxKSQYCms2JEkAKpMyFbFyvYC64rARgG09qxDfp/s400/iphone+074.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355744000062769810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />My new goatskin is soaking in the kitchen. I love the smell of it. A gentle, slightly oily, animal smell that reminds me of my days on the farm.<br /><br />This skin is preshaved, so it has the texture of razor stubble. It is very different from the oh so smooth surface of my old skin. Perhaps I will sand it smooth after it dries. Or maybe I will just play it as is.<br /><br />In any case, no more spots. This was a black goat with a solid color.<br /><br />I took off my old skin before it tore completely.... I was able to trim it into a circle and it is now hanging on the wall of my office. That skin taught me everything I know about drumming. I hope this new skin takes me to the next level of my journey. I hope I grow to love it as much as the old one.<br /><br />The shell, by the way, is an object of such beauty in it's naked state. It, too, has a heady fragrance... the remnants of the old goat along with the strong smell of the wood itself. Inside the bowl, it is carved in an intricate spiral pattern that eases the sound down into the base. It is really a piece of art.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-53062614840813001222009-06-28T19:01:00.002-04:002009-06-28T19:04:40.860-04:00Oh my aching headAfter 18 wonderful months, my beautiful spotted goatskin is finally coming undone. Today as I pulled it from my bag, I noticed that it has begun to split right at the bearing edge. It is now a matter of time before it pops.<br /><br />So I am going to rehead this one with goatskin. I am thinking thicker rather than thinner. And it is such a swell drum I know it will still sound fantastic when I am done. I can only hope I get another 18 months out of the new skin.<br /><br />It has been such a joy to play this goat. I am sad to see her go.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-11107298453450221192009-06-15T13:30:00.004-04:002009-06-16T22:03:51.390-04:00Wadaba!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjmMoB8FbhpePsc4mSmRhZmXo5ym6lVf4ugvh5qegcJlZJ7IDYZm53P1R6ulcn-UdVPpgmcMPzm89XpkOasRgRjnlQEkHQfenzv1rB9XDOtecrLxlnTi9N5ROwJMNuz_obAYLgMhSCEc7/s1600-h/iphone+008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjmMoB8FbhpePsc4mSmRhZmXo5ym6lVf4ugvh5qegcJlZJ7IDYZm53P1R6ulcn-UdVPpgmcMPzm89XpkOasRgRjnlQEkHQfenzv1rB9XDOtecrLxlnTi9N5ROwJMNuz_obAYLgMhSCEc7/s400/iphone+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347614120139744834" border="0" /></a><br />This weekend I had the opportunity to attend a drumming workshop taught by Mamady Kourouma, aka Wadaba.<br /><br />Wadaba is from a village in Guinea and it was great fun to be able to get a different perspective on the djembe.<br /><br />We started on Friday evening with a song called Sotemabandani. Since Friday was only a couple of hours, we didn't learn the dun dun parts, just three accompaniments and some solo phrases. I liked how he structured the class. At one point he divided us into three sections and we swapped the accompaniments so we each got to try all three. What a sound! We had three folks on the dun duns..... Alan Tauber was on the dununba, and two other teachers from the Drum Connection were on the Sangban and Kenkeni.<br /><br />For the solo phrases, Wadaba just played and we mimicked. For this song, I found it pretty straight forward and was easily able to copy what he was playing. That lulled me into a false sense of security because the next day I got my ass kicked, LOL.<br /><br />Saturday's workshop was a full day, starting at noon and running until 5 pm. That gave us plenty of time to dig into another song, Subamasoli.<br /><br />This time we started on the bass drums. I had no problem learning the Sangban and Kenkeni parts because the bell patterns corresponded to the drum strokes in a very straightforward way. On the dununba pattern, however, I was completely flumoxed. I never did get the whole thing together and wound up just ignoring the bell and playing the drum. (It's that whole walk and chew gum issue, LOL. It is a very painstaking process for me to get to the point of doing two things at once with my hands.)<br /><br />Again, we split into three groups and we got to play each of the bass parts in turn. What a blast!<br /><br />Next, the djembe. This time, Wadaba showed us just one simple accompaniment pattern, but even that got tricky because he had half of us playing it on the up beat and the other half on the down beat. The resulting rhythm was incredibly complex, especially when laid over the three bass drums.<br /><br />Things got REALLY challenging when we moved on to the solo phrases. I managed to hang on pretty well for a few of them, but then he pulled out a series of very complex rhythms in a single phrase and for the life of me I couldn't play them. He was going full steam ahead and I was hanging on for dear life. Fortunately, the players around me had better luck with the parts and managed to hold us up pretty well.<br /><br />At the end of the class, we learned the lyrics to the song and did call and response with each other. For a brief time we even played accompaniment while we sang. (Another walk and chew gum moment for me, sigh.)<br /><br />All in all, it was a great experience to study with a Guinea Master. I learned a lot even in a short time. And the funniest part was the next day at my regular drum class, I felt much more confident in my skills, even though I had messed up so much at the Wadaba workshop.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-45852617483505735482009-06-11T10:00:00.002-04:002009-06-11T10:05:36.327-04:00SweetI haven't had to tune my drum in over a year. It is at the exact right place for me... and one interesting thing about leaving it the hell alone is that it changes a bit depending on the weather, where I am playing, indoors or out, big cavernous space or cramped sunporch. <br /><br />This drum has a thousand voices and moods. But always, always, she sounds just perfect. I think we have found her sweet spot, somewhere between solo high and middle accompaniment. Super responsive to my hands. Gorgeous, throaty voice that can be shrill if need be. <br /><br />She's my drum.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-1803975026588058392009-06-09T22:45:00.002-04:002009-06-09T23:03:56.141-04:00BlessedThis week, the weight of the loss of my friend has been hanging heavy around my heart. It is hard to explain to my friends and family why this has been so hard, particularly since they never knew him. They never met him. And they aren't drummers, either, so the intensity of the connection is lost on them.<br /><br />But you are are a drummer. I suspect that maybe you understand.<br /><br />Mazé was a Griot. For him, sharing his knowledge wasn't just about teaching a class. With no words, with no words, he invited me to join him on a journey to the dawn of his people's culture. In one rhythm, I caught glimpses of his soul.... and the soul of his people. He was wide open. He invited me in and welcomed me with open arms and calloused fingers.<br /><br />When I came back from Mali with his drum, I brought a tiny sliver of his essence with me. When the head broke, I spend awhile taking the drum apart. It had big thick green ropes for the verticals. Diamond by diamond, years of tuning undone. The dust of a Bamako courtyard drifted off the ropes into my living room. The smell of the old skin. Stray goat hairs wafting in the afternoon light.<br /><br />Off came the rings. Off came the knots on the bottom ring. There was no fabric wrapping, just brute steel. This is not a woman's drum. But it is now. <br /><br />I gently sanded the wood, while it was naked. Savoring the fragrance of the hardwood as I leaned in to work on a detail. Then the tung oil, hand rubbed. <br /><br />New rope. New cowskin. A little of my own soul, maybe. Mazé took a bit of it with him when he died, too.<br /><br />I know how blessed I am to have been his student, his friend. <br /><br />But God. God.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-50352377799393643832009-06-07T17:26:00.004-04:002009-06-07T17:41:12.959-04:00QuietHa. My last post was LOUD. This one is Quiet. As in, I have been pretty quiet lately.<br /><br />But I wanted to check in and say that I am very busy with my drumming. I am still taking 2 classes and one private lesson each week. I go to at least 2 or 3 drum circles a month and this month played at a service at my church one morning with a couple of other drummers. I have another church gig in a couple of weeks.<br /><br />I think I am making some major strides in my playing these days. I notice that I can often remember a new rhythm, and play it correctly, after only one class. Part of that is because I am starting to learn the elements that make up the rhythms. I can see how they are put together, like a kids lego toy. So things are more familiar to me, even if it is something totally new.<br /><br />I am also starting to do a better job with keeping tempo... at least some of the time, LOL. The other day I played the djeli dun dun for a class for the first time and realized, shockingly, that I was able to follow my teacher even when he was soloing. That blew my mind. I also figured out how to get back in when I screwed up. Considering I have never played the dun dun with djembes before, that seemed like an extraordinary accomplishment.<br /><br />So, why so quiet?<br /><br />Maybe I got sick of navel gazing, LOL.<br /><br />Also, I had some terrible news in the last few weeks. One of my dear teachers in Mali died unexpectedly. I took Mazé's death very hard. Today at church I was still crying about him.<br /><br />Mon amour, tu me manques. Mon coeur est brisé.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-80110351863126211572009-04-16T23:14:00.002-04:002009-04-16T23:24:57.959-04:00LoudWhen I first talked to my teacher about buying a drum, I asked him to choose one for me. <br /><br />The following week, I arrived at class with an empty bag and he had me play a beautiful goatskin djembe for class. Afterwards, he told me it was the one he picked out for me.<br /><br />It was loud. A beautiful, crisp, gorgeous sound. <br /><br />"I know you like to play loudly" he said. "So I chose this drum for you."<br /><br />Even as I write this, there is a cowskin soaking in Sidy's plastic tub, waiting to get mounted on my latest drum shell. It, too, will be a loud drum. Probably even louder than my goatskin.<br /><br />And then there is the Jeli dun dun. I told Sidy I wanted to buy his. It is a big metal can with tanned goatskin heads. You play it with one hand. In the other is a bell, which you play with an iron ring on your thumb.<br /><br />Loud.<br /><br />Let's face it. When we play, we are expressing ourselves. Our energy. Our enthusiasm. Our joy. For me, that is pretty out there. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a quiet person. <br /><br />I can be quiet, when necessary. I can sit in silence for long periods, especially when I am at prayer. But my normal 'self' is pretty high energy, which often means high volume.<br /><br />My teacher knows this about me, and is teaching me to chanel that energy into my drumming. <br /><br />One of the drum circle facilitators I have encountered has made it clear that I am too loud for his taste. Tonight, I was so worried about it I played badly all night because I was so self concious. It was really a bummer. As I left, he commented on how loud I was. Again. <br /><br />As I drove home, I decided I probably won't be going back to that drum circle any time soon. It is just too hard to try and be something I am not. It doesn't feel good.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-87826170576371107032009-04-03T13:47:00.003-04:002009-04-16T23:27:04.530-04:00Now I've found itLast night I drove up to Milford MA for the drum circle there... and I gotta say, it rocked.<br /><br />There was a good sized crowd of about 30 folks. Tons of djembes. And more excitingly, people who can play them. We had great fun 'talking' to each other in the rhythms. Very friendly people... good rhythms and great energy. Nice.<br /><br />I am noticing a big difference in my playing skills. I think I have finally turned some kind of corner and feel much more comfortable playing in that kind of situation. I found myself doing little solo riffs here and there, without apology. My drum is still one of the sweetest sounding in any group... and I am less afraid of it being loud and just go with it. During the break, a few folks came up and complimented me on my playing and I was really psyched about it.<br /><br />Here's another thing. I played my neighbor's drum for a set, and even though it was a bit out of tune, I still managed some nice slaps and tones. I think I am finally getting the hang of this crazy instrument!<br /><br />Milford Drum Circle is on the first Thursday of the month at the UU church. 7pm. Come if you can. It's a good time.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-71537301484749478612009-02-22T15:49:00.004-05:002009-02-22T15:55:40.043-05:00Blood kinThe other day I was playing with my teacher.<br /><br />We were playing hard. The adrenaline was pumping. I was in the groove.<br /><br />Suddenly he stopped. <br /><br />"Let me see your hands" he said.<br /><br />I reached over and showed him my palm. The tip of my finger had split and I was bleeding. I looked at the drum and saw that there was a red blotch in the middle of the skin.<br /><br />"Tape it" Sidy said.<br /><br />So I wound sport tape around my bleeding finger and started to play again. It wasn't until later, when I was alone, that I could feel any pain.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2759330461522104376.post-4145302331285502992009-02-21T11:13:00.002-05:002009-02-21T11:37:55.259-05:00No WordsI am a verbal person. Part of how I perceive the world is through language. I see and respond and describe. It is how I am in the world. <br /><br />When I first started studying with Sidy, I loved it best when he would tell us things. He'd talk about the meaning of a song, where it fit into his culture, when it was played. I hung on every word. He could show me a part over and over, but what I would remember, later, at home, was his voice telling me<br /><br />"Tone tone, slap slap slap."<br /><br />In my mind, I would hear his words, his voice, his accent, while I grappled with a new part. I knew that the traditional way to teach did not involve telling... but was happy that Sidy adjusted his teaching for us.<br /><br />In Mali, something changed. <br /><br />I worked with a teacher who didn't use language to teach the drum. He taught by showing. No words at all. No facial expressions, even. Just the drum itself... and his hands. He'd play a part until I got it, then move on to the next piece. It was a rhythm unbroken by the appelle, seemlessly flowing from solo phrase to solo phrase, one into another. He'd announce the transition by emphasizing his hand position so I knew it was time to change. No words. At the end of the first day, I felt drunk with excitement. I really had no idea how my teacher felt... but I knew that something had clicked for me, in just that hour.<br /><br />Yesterday, Sidy came to my lesson and we hardly talked at all. He said the name of the rhythm... but really, I would have known just by the break. We played, working over the pieces I have been learning. Then, a new one. No words, just showing me... first at regular speed, then slowly. Then bit by bit because I needed it broken down. <br /><br />Then, I could play it. <br /><br />No words. Just the drum. What joy.Rachel Nguyenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534890739695708419noreply@blogger.com0