my drum today. The Sounou rhythms are coming together. I am figuring out the pickup on the accompaniment. The handing is making sense. I am hearing the rhythms in my head, which is a huge step to being able to play them. Some of the rhythms that seemed so incredibly complex when I first tried them are beginning to get easier. I can almost feel my neurons firing in new patterns.
And, oh, the drum. It talks to me. It whispers little nuances in my ear. It says
"no, that is supposed to be a slap. Try it as a slap." And because I haven't written these patterns down, I try it and it sounds better and I practice making a slap instead of a tone.
I got so excited about all this I called my teacher and left him a goofy voice mail about how in love I am with my drum and thank you thank you thank you for choosing it for me.
I can't stop playing today.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Want to buy a drum?
I want to mention that Sidy is bringing an order of drums back from Mali and will have some available for sale. If the one I have is any indication, these will be wonderful drums. If you are interested in purchasing one, feel free to email me at rachelnguyen(at)cox.net for more information. Shipping in the US would be no problem. Worldwide shipping will be higher. The drums will be available in January and I can post or email photos once they are in.
Bounce and bang
It sounds slightly naughty, but no. While I was practicing today the neighborhood kids and my sons were out bouncing to the rhythm on the trampoline.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Fasterfasterfaster.....
I notice that while it is still very difficult for me to wrap my head around a new rhythm, the time it takes to 'get it' is getting shorter and shorter.
Last night I learned a new Sounou part and I was fumbling all over the place. It is almost as if I can't learn it while my teacher is sitting there. Rather, I need to write down the handing, tape it, then sit with it privately for awhile. The rhythm that so confounded me last night is well within my grasp today. When my teacher comes back for my lesson on Friday, I'll be ready.
Another thing I notice is that the handing and the rhythm pattern are, for me, separate endeavors. First I must learn the basic movements. Then I am ready to give those movements life.
I have read that one shouldn't 'grind in' one's mistakes. But I haven't found that to be a problem. Even if I am practicing something incorrectly from memory, it still seems to help when I meet up with it again. I may have gotten the details wrong, but something of the essence of a part has seeped through and seems to make it easier to grasp when I learn the correct way.
I'd love to hear how others tackle a new part. What is your process?
Last night I learned a new Sounou part and I was fumbling all over the place. It is almost as if I can't learn it while my teacher is sitting there. Rather, I need to write down the handing, tape it, then sit with it privately for awhile. The rhythm that so confounded me last night is well within my grasp today. When my teacher comes back for my lesson on Friday, I'll be ready.
Another thing I notice is that the handing and the rhythm pattern are, for me, separate endeavors. First I must learn the basic movements. Then I am ready to give those movements life.
I have read that one shouldn't 'grind in' one's mistakes. But I haven't found that to be a problem. Even if I am practicing something incorrectly from memory, it still seems to help when I meet up with it again. I may have gotten the details wrong, but something of the essence of a part has seeped through and seems to make it easier to grasp when I learn the correct way.
I'd love to hear how others tackle a new part. What is your process?
Sunday, November 25, 2007
The last week
My teacher heads off to Mali next week and I am acutely aware that I am going to have to go for a whole month without any lessons.
My survival tool kit:
Practice every day. Listen to the recordings and play through all the pieces every day.
Get together with my fellow students for a drumming circle a couple of times in December.
Pull out my 'Learning the Djembe' book and CD and see if I can pick up a new rhythm or two.
Pray.
Tonight at my church, the priest asked us if we would play at a big bonfire event our church is holding on December 21st. Of course we said yes! Any chance to play is wonderful. So getting ready for that will be fun, too.
I just want to be a sponge over the next week, and soak up as much as I can.
What do YOU do when your teacher is out of town?
My survival tool kit:
Practice every day. Listen to the recordings and play through all the pieces every day.
Get together with my fellow students for a drumming circle a couple of times in December.
Pull out my 'Learning the Djembe' book and CD and see if I can pick up a new rhythm or two.
Pray.
Tonight at my church, the priest asked us if we would play at a big bonfire event our church is holding on December 21st. Of course we said yes! Any chance to play is wonderful. So getting ready for that will be fun, too.
I just want to be a sponge over the next week, and soak up as much as I can.
What do YOU do when your teacher is out of town?
Saturday, November 24, 2007
They're back!
I picked my drums up from Sidy on Wednesday and really didn't get a chance to play until yesterday. But, oh, was it wonderful. Even with some interruptions, I was able to practice for about an hour. I worked on one of the Dansa rhythms (as well as I can remember it) and the Sounou stuff. Then just went through the Sidiyasa parts because I am afraid I will forget them if I don't keep playing them.
Sidy is supposed to swing by this afternoon for our lesson, and then drumming class tomorrow and Monday. I am loading up before his trip to Africa. Is it possible to play too much?
Naw.
Sidy is supposed to swing by this afternoon for our lesson, and then drumming class tomorrow and Monday. I am loading up before his trip to Africa. Is it possible to play too much?
Naw.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
The Jones
Searching the house for stuff to bang on.
Must. get. drums. back.
I am dying here. What am I going to do in Vietnam? I think I will bring the little drum with me when we go in February.
The last Dansa rhythm we learned is bouncing around in my head. I am going to the garage to see if we have a 5 gallon pail.
Must. get. drums. back.
I am dying here. What am I going to do in Vietnam? I think I will bring the little drum with me when we go in February.
The last Dansa rhythm we learned is bouncing around in my head. I am going to the garage to see if we have a 5 gallon pail.
Downtime
On Sunday, Sidy called to ask about borrowing my drums for a school program this week.
"Of course!" I said.
I dropped them off to him, and as I was handing over my djembes, I realized that this meant three or 4 days without practicing. Without the smell of goatskin in my house, or on my hands. Without the feel of the backbone skin under my fingers.
It is amazing how much a part of my day to day life my drum has become.
I was happy to see it again at class last night.
We played through the Dansa rhythms and I noticed, for the first time, a little shift in the timing of one of the parts. I could hear it when Sidy played it, but was having a tough time figuring out how to do it. The beginners might not have even heard it, to be honest. As we were playing, I worked on shifting my hands a little to get the timing right. It felt different when I finally got it. I got it.
And Sidy could hear it. He looked up from what he was doing and smiled at me, nodding. Not a word. But we both knew that I got it.
These tiny successes are amazing. Each one is such a treasure. I never imagined that something as subtle a tiny hesitation of one hand could bring me so much joy.
I can't wait to get my drums back.
"Of course!" I said.
I dropped them off to him, and as I was handing over my djembes, I realized that this meant three or 4 days without practicing. Without the smell of goatskin in my house, or on my hands. Without the feel of the backbone skin under my fingers.
It is amazing how much a part of my day to day life my drum has become.
I was happy to see it again at class last night.
We played through the Dansa rhythms and I noticed, for the first time, a little shift in the timing of one of the parts. I could hear it when Sidy played it, but was having a tough time figuring out how to do it. The beginners might not have even heard it, to be honest. As we were playing, I worked on shifting my hands a little to get the timing right. It felt different when I finally got it. I got it.
And Sidy could hear it. He looked up from what he was doing and smiled at me, nodding. Not a word. But we both knew that I got it.
These tiny successes are amazing. Each one is such a treasure. I never imagined that something as subtle a tiny hesitation of one hand could bring me so much joy.
I can't wait to get my drums back.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Who do you say you are?
On a warm Monday evening in July, about a month after I began taking lessons, Lucia, Sidy and I were standing outside Black Rep waiting to go in. We were chatting about the class. At one point I said that I had always wanted to be a musician.
"Now you are." Sidy replied.
I laughed it off. How can someone who has been playing for a month call themselves a musician?
"Maybe someday." I said. "Maybe someday."
But when I looked at him, I realized that he was serious.
To him, it was simple: I play drums. Even if I suck at it, I am still a musician. A bad one. Yes. A new one. Yes. But a musician nonetheless.
I think, in that moment, something shifted. I allowed myself to see the possibility of what I could be, rather than stay stuck in what I have been. I started to think of myself differently.
Later, he said that he wanted us to get good enough so we could play out with him. Which of course scared the crap out of me. But it also gave me something to work towards. A musician plays out. I started to practice more.
Why does it matter what we say about ourselves?
I don't know. But it does.
I am a musician.
Who do you say you are?
"Now you are." Sidy replied.
I laughed it off. How can someone who has been playing for a month call themselves a musician?
"Maybe someday." I said. "Maybe someday."
But when I looked at him, I realized that he was serious.
To him, it was simple: I play drums. Even if I suck at it, I am still a musician. A bad one. Yes. A new one. Yes. But a musician nonetheless.
I think, in that moment, something shifted. I allowed myself to see the possibility of what I could be, rather than stay stuck in what I have been. I started to think of myself differently.
Later, he said that he wanted us to get good enough so we could play out with him. Which of course scared the crap out of me. But it also gave me something to work towards. A musician plays out. I started to practice more.
Why does it matter what we say about ourselves?
I don't know. But it does.
I am a musician.
Who do you say you are?
Saturday, November 17, 2007
If you can say it, you can play it
Nigerian drummer Babatunde Olantunji said that if you can speak a rhythm, you will be able to play it. I have found this to be true.
When I first learn a new rhythm, at this early stage in my education, it often feels like I am trying to learn a foreign language. At first it seems incomprehensible. I see my teacher's hands moving across the drum head. I know that there are only a few possible positions. But like trying to speak German or Italian... even with the same letters, how they are put together makes all the difference.
Early on in a new rhythm, I am just trying to wrap my head around the pattern. With the accompaniment for Sounou, for example, I knew that there was a single bass stroke on the left and a double on the right. I knew that there were 5 edge hits: slap tone tone slap slap. But the piece I missed was that the transition from tone to slap happens with the same hand. Because I missed that, I spent a week trying to work the handing out and couldn't figure out why it didn't sound right. Yesterday, when Sidy showed me what I was doing wrong, it was like the fog lifted.
This morning, at 6am, I woke up with the accompaniment for Sounou in my head. I know that when I can hear it inside, I will be able to play it.
When I was first learning the parts of Sidiyasa, I would sing them in the car on the way home from class. It was like I was trying to capture them in my head so they wouldn't escape. At first, I would forget them and not be able to remember them until the following week in class. But after playing them for awhile, I could hear them in my head. I would sing them to myself when I was driving or walking. I would hear them rattling around in there while doing the dishes or taking a shower. Sometimes the simplest ones are the hardest. There is a tiny pause here or a little shift there that makes a huge difference in the sound. If I could hear it in my head, I would be able to play it.
Sidy can sing every rhythm he knows. But when he sings them for me, it sounds like he is speaking Russian or Greek. I can't understand. I need to learn to sing his language because when I do, I will play.
When I first learn a new rhythm, at this early stage in my education, it often feels like I am trying to learn a foreign language. At first it seems incomprehensible. I see my teacher's hands moving across the drum head. I know that there are only a few possible positions. But like trying to speak German or Italian... even with the same letters, how they are put together makes all the difference.
Early on in a new rhythm, I am just trying to wrap my head around the pattern. With the accompaniment for Sounou, for example, I knew that there was a single bass stroke on the left and a double on the right. I knew that there were 5 edge hits: slap tone tone slap slap. But the piece I missed was that the transition from tone to slap happens with the same hand. Because I missed that, I spent a week trying to work the handing out and couldn't figure out why it didn't sound right. Yesterday, when Sidy showed me what I was doing wrong, it was like the fog lifted.
This morning, at 6am, I woke up with the accompaniment for Sounou in my head. I know that when I can hear it inside, I will be able to play it.
When I was first learning the parts of Sidiyasa, I would sing them in the car on the way home from class. It was like I was trying to capture them in my head so they wouldn't escape. At first, I would forget them and not be able to remember them until the following week in class. But after playing them for awhile, I could hear them in my head. I would sing them to myself when I was driving or walking. I would hear them rattling around in there while doing the dishes or taking a shower. Sometimes the simplest ones are the hardest. There is a tiny pause here or a little shift there that makes a huge difference in the sound. If I could hear it in my head, I would be able to play it.
Sidy can sing every rhythm he knows. But when he sings them for me, it sounds like he is speaking Russian or Greek. I can't understand. I need to learn to sing his language because when I do, I will play.
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