It's official. I have my tickets, got my shots, and am heading to Mali in January.
So, here's the scoop so far:
Tickets via Royal Air Maroc. We fly through Casablanca with a 15 hour layover... but will be put up in a hotel for the time we are there.
Shots:
Yellow fever
Polio booster
Regular flu shot
Meningitis
Last year I got Hep A and Typhoid, so they are still good.
I also have a prescription for anti-malarial drugs, Cipro for diarrhea and Ambien to sleep on the plane and help with jet lag.
Travel insurance: Check.
Still to do:
Register with the US Embassy.
Pack.
Get some gifts for Sidy's parents.
Arrange for the Visa with the Malian embassy in NY.
I am flying with a couple of other students. We have a few folks planning to join us in Mali. Sidy is going to meet us at the airport and that is a moment I am really excited about, stepping off a plane into the warm Malian night and finding my teacher standing there waiting for us. What a scene.
Allons y!
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
New piece
The beginnings of another solo part to Mendiani. LOVE it!
tttsssssssss, tttsssssssss, tttsssssssss, tttsssssssss, tsstsstsstsstsstsstsstss...........
Or something like that, LOL.
We'll see where this goes. The funny thing is I didn't really understand the underlying structure of Mendiani until I started playing this... and then suddenly, like a lightbulb, it went off. I wonder if it will help me play the rest of the solo parts better. I'll keep you posted.
tttsssssssss, tttsssssssss, tttsssssssss, tttsssssssss, tsstsstsstsstsstsstsstss...........
Or something like that, LOL.
We'll see where this goes. The funny thing is I didn't really understand the underlying structure of Mendiani until I started playing this... and then suddenly, like a lightbulb, it went off. I wonder if it will help me play the rest of the solo parts better. I'll keep you posted.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
My Hands
My hands are changing.
Where once was soft, smooth skin, now strength.
Callouses. Suddenly the creases in my palm are so pronounced I think a palmreader could read them blindfolded, just by touch.
From the top they look like ordinary hands. Long thin fingers. Nails painted. You might wonder where my rings are.
But turn them over and you know.
These are the hands of a drummer.
Where once was soft, smooth skin, now strength.
Callouses. Suddenly the creases in my palm are so pronounced I think a palmreader could read them blindfolded, just by touch.
From the top they look like ordinary hands. Long thin fingers. Nails painted. You might wonder where my rings are.
But turn them over and you know.
These are the hands of a drummer.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Because I am six at heart
I have been sitting in on Sidy's children's class because I open the church for him. Lately there has only been one student... but that little boy has been very dedicated. He practices every day and comes in excited every week. He is six.
This little boy is very cute when he plays. He tells Sidy how easy drumming is, even when he is struggling to get a new rhythm. Sometimes he cries when it is too hard. Often he has a little swagger and it is clear that he is itching to solo.
The other night I told Sidy I was just like that little boy. I get cocky. I get taken down a notch and cry. And I really really LOVE to play those drums.
This little boy is very cute when he plays. He tells Sidy how easy drumming is, even when he is struggling to get a new rhythm. Sometimes he cries when it is too hard. Often he has a little swagger and it is clear that he is itching to solo.
The other night I told Sidy I was just like that little boy. I get cocky. I get taken down a notch and cry. And I really really LOVE to play those drums.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Back with, well, a bang
I was in Nova Scotia for a week with the family. I brought a drum for practicing, but since we were in a tiny cabin, wedged in next to other tiny cabins, I couldn't really practice much. Only once, when the weather was dry, was I able to take the drum to the beach and find a rock to sit on and play for awhile.
It is amazing how much I was jonesing. I don't think I realized how much playing has become part of my life.
When I got back, I jumped back into class with great enthusiasm. I felt like I was playing better than I had for a long time. Maybe the time off was good.
Yesterday I went to see my teacher and his uncle, Issa Coulibaly, play at a park in Providence. They played with a couple of his uncle's students. It was really interesting. I had never actually seen my teacher perform with another Malian player before. They obviously play together pretty frequently because they are very tight together. Issa was on the dun duns and Sidy was playing solo djembe. The two students were playing accompaniment.
Issa soloed quite a bit on the dun duns. Clearly he is an excellent player. It was fun to hear how he worked the rhythm, holding the main rhythm for the rest of the players while simultaneously moving around within it.
I learned something from watching the students, too. One of them seemed to be struggling a little bit. Frankly, I couldn't hear any big errors, but he had a bit of a 'deer in the headlights' look about him that betrayed his nervousness. I realized that I probably look exactly like that when I play with Sidy, LOL. It suddenly became clear what Sidy is talking about when he says he would rather have me make mistakes than be nervous. I need to learn to relax and have a good time, even when I am making mistakes. And for God's sake, I have to remember to smile even if I am bombing!
And of course, watching Sidy play was amazing. I especially liked it when he stood up and played with the dancer. They faced off and had a great time together. He was speeding up and she was matching his pace. They seemed to move back and forth in a beautiful give and take. It was wonderful to watch.
What a treat to come home to!
It is amazing how much I was jonesing. I don't think I realized how much playing has become part of my life.
When I got back, I jumped back into class with great enthusiasm. I felt like I was playing better than I had for a long time. Maybe the time off was good.
Yesterday I went to see my teacher and his uncle, Issa Coulibaly, play at a park in Providence. They played with a couple of his uncle's students. It was really interesting. I had never actually seen my teacher perform with another Malian player before. They obviously play together pretty frequently because they are very tight together. Issa was on the dun duns and Sidy was playing solo djembe. The two students were playing accompaniment.
Issa soloed quite a bit on the dun duns. Clearly he is an excellent player. It was fun to hear how he worked the rhythm, holding the main rhythm for the rest of the players while simultaneously moving around within it.
I learned something from watching the students, too. One of them seemed to be struggling a little bit. Frankly, I couldn't hear any big errors, but he had a bit of a 'deer in the headlights' look about him that betrayed his nervousness. I realized that I probably look exactly like that when I play with Sidy, LOL. It suddenly became clear what Sidy is talking about when he says he would rather have me make mistakes than be nervous. I need to learn to relax and have a good time, even when I am making mistakes. And for God's sake, I have to remember to smile even if I am bombing!
And of course, watching Sidy play was amazing. I especially liked it when he stood up and played with the dancer. They faced off and had a great time together. He was speeding up and she was matching his pace. They seemed to move back and forth in a beautiful give and take. It was wonderful to watch.
What a treat to come home to!
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Accompaniment
Last weekend I asked my teacher if I could play the accompaniment parts for class, rather than work on the solos. I did this for a couple of reasons. First, it seems that the accompaniment is always the part that gives me the most trouble, especially if I am having a hard time hearing how it meshes with the dun duns. Second, I wanted to take a step back and just work on listening to whole rhythm working together. And finally, I always play accompaniment when I go to gigs with Sidy, so I wanted to work on them a bit.
What a great experience. It was awesome hearing all the parts layered together, and wonderful to be a part of the rhythm section with my friend Lisa. I found myself sliding off the beat a couple of times, but was able to find my way back to her. I loved being able to speed up and slow down, too.
At Monday's class we did the same thing. I accompaniment for awhile before getting back to the solo parts. I left feeling much better.
Back to basics. Good stuff.
What a great experience. It was awesome hearing all the parts layered together, and wonderful to be a part of the rhythm section with my friend Lisa. I found myself sliding off the beat a couple of times, but was able to find my way back to her. I loved being able to speed up and slow down, too.
At Monday's class we did the same thing. I accompaniment for awhile before getting back to the solo parts. I left feeling much better.
Back to basics. Good stuff.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
genuine gross me out
I worked on a drum today.
The ring had broken, so first off, I sent the ring off to the welder for repair. Unfortunately, it was the rope harness ring, so I had to remove all the rope and then replace it once the ring came back. Twice, because I measured wrong and ended up with too few loops.
Then I got the skin out of its bath and noticed it didn't smell good.
But I am game, so I started working on the stinking skin and getting it on the drum. I re-roped the uprights. And, oh God the thing reeked.
Shaving it was perhaps the most disgusting thing I have ever done. The hair was just falling off it in clumps. And stink. Oh, stink.
Finally I was done with the shaving and decided to pull it a little bit before it was too dry. So on it's side, I pulled the verticals, holding my breath and gritting my teeth.
I lift up the drum and.... CRAP.
There was a huge gaping hole in the middle of the stinkiest skin in the Universe.
Sigh.
I couldn't stand undoing the whole thing while it was wet, so I just stuck it in the garage and hoped there were no vultures hanging around.
I think the moral of the story is that a really stinky skin must indicate that it has rotted at some point. Which means it isn't good drum material. Next time I will just toss it and start with a new one.
The ring had broken, so first off, I sent the ring off to the welder for repair. Unfortunately, it was the rope harness ring, so I had to remove all the rope and then replace it once the ring came back. Twice, because I measured wrong and ended up with too few loops.
Then I got the skin out of its bath and noticed it didn't smell good.
But I am game, so I started working on the stinking skin and getting it on the drum. I re-roped the uprights. And, oh God the thing reeked.
Shaving it was perhaps the most disgusting thing I have ever done. The hair was just falling off it in clumps. And stink. Oh, stink.
Finally I was done with the shaving and decided to pull it a little bit before it was too dry. So on it's side, I pulled the verticals, holding my breath and gritting my teeth.
I lift up the drum and.... CRAP.
There was a huge gaping hole in the middle of the stinkiest skin in the Universe.
Sigh.
I couldn't stand undoing the whole thing while it was wet, so I just stuck it in the garage and hoped there were no vultures hanging around.
I think the moral of the story is that a really stinky skin must indicate that it has rotted at some point. Which means it isn't good drum material. Next time I will just toss it and start with a new one.
AfroSonic in the New York Times today
The NY Times had an online piece about Providence that featured the AfroSonic Collective at Black Rep. The article had a great picture of Sidy.
Dance crazy
Drumming and dancing go hand in hand.
On Fridays, I have been going to AfroSonic at Black Rep to listen to my teacher and friends play drums to the amazing deep house played by the DJs. Often, during the first set, I am the only one dancing. Tonight I was having a hard time hearing the drums, so I just waltzed out to the middle of the dance floor, closed my eyes and let go. I was completely alone out there and I didn't give a shit.
I don't care if I look like a goofball. When I close my eyes and listen, really listen, to the rhythm, I am transported to another world. My body responds to the beat of the drums and the thud of the DJs. I feel the music in my bones, in my soul, in my body and just let go.
I try and listen for the subtle underlying beats, I sing along with the rhythm, I mouth drum accompaniments and feel it all flow through.
I think, as a drummer, it is good to dance to music.
On Fridays, I have been going to AfroSonic at Black Rep to listen to my teacher and friends play drums to the amazing deep house played by the DJs. Often, during the first set, I am the only one dancing. Tonight I was having a hard time hearing the drums, so I just waltzed out to the middle of the dance floor, closed my eyes and let go. I was completely alone out there and I didn't give a shit.
I don't care if I look like a goofball. When I close my eyes and listen, really listen, to the rhythm, I am transported to another world. My body responds to the beat of the drums and the thud of the DJs. I feel the music in my bones, in my soul, in my body and just let go.
I try and listen for the subtle underlying beats, I sing along with the rhythm, I mouth drum accompaniments and feel it all flow through.
I think, as a drummer, it is good to dance to music.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
The Crying Game
During class on Sunday we were working on our old standby rhythm, Dansa, and I kept messing up the accompaniment. The accompaniment. We were playing fast and I couldn't stay on rhythm and I was getting psyched out.
There was a moment, when I was struggling to play this simple phrase that I know so well, this phrase that is embedded in my nervous system, that has become a part of my body, when I was struggling to play this thing, when I had a vision. I saw myself, years from now, still unable to play. I saw myself plugging away so hard, working so hard, and coming to realize, like the kid who dreams of playing soccer for living and finally comes face to face with the fact that it won't happen because he is just not, nor will he ever be, good enough, that I might never be good enough.
Not good enough.
And in that moment of doubt, I wondered if it is simply not possible, physically, to play as strongly or as fast as I want to play. Maybe my 43 year old body just can't keep up with the young guns, the lean, powerful, incredibly strong, 30-ish year old African men, even as an accompanist. Even as an accompanist.
In that moment I had doubt. A crack of doubt.
In that moment, I felt such a sense of loss, such grief, I had to get up and walk away because if I sat there and faced what I was feeling, I would have wailed like someone who had lost her best friend.
And the crazy thing is, even if it is true that I will never be a strong player, it doesn't mean I won't still play and love it and work and learn and get better. The process is amazing and is, truly, an end unto itself.
But in that crack of a moment, I felt a dream imploding and I felt so sad for the loss of it, I had to cry.
And I know that no one understood why I was crying. They thought I was frustrated or beating myself up or being hard on myself, or whatever... all of which was true, but those weren't the reasons I was upset.
I think Sidy might have understood, though. Maybe he has been there. Maybe it is part of the process to hit the wall and realize that it is going to get a lot harder before it gets easier and there are always going to be those cracks of doubt along the way.
Last night, I was back on my game, plugging away, laughing at my screw ups and silently thanking God for my little successes. I can't stay in the doubt. I have to just focus on the process and let things unfold, and work hard and try my best and most of all, have fun along the way.
There was a moment, when I was struggling to play this simple phrase that I know so well, this phrase that is embedded in my nervous system, that has become a part of my body, when I was struggling to play this thing, when I had a vision. I saw myself, years from now, still unable to play. I saw myself plugging away so hard, working so hard, and coming to realize, like the kid who dreams of playing soccer for living and finally comes face to face with the fact that it won't happen because he is just not, nor will he ever be, good enough, that I might never be good enough.
Not good enough.
And in that moment of doubt, I wondered if it is simply not possible, physically, to play as strongly or as fast as I want to play. Maybe my 43 year old body just can't keep up with the young guns, the lean, powerful, incredibly strong, 30-ish year old African men, even as an accompanist. Even as an accompanist.
In that moment I had doubt. A crack of doubt.
In that moment, I felt such a sense of loss, such grief, I had to get up and walk away because if I sat there and faced what I was feeling, I would have wailed like someone who had lost her best friend.
And the crazy thing is, even if it is true that I will never be a strong player, it doesn't mean I won't still play and love it and work and learn and get better. The process is amazing and is, truly, an end unto itself.
But in that crack of a moment, I felt a dream imploding and I felt so sad for the loss of it, I had to cry.
And I know that no one understood why I was crying. They thought I was frustrated or beating myself up or being hard on myself, or whatever... all of which was true, but those weren't the reasons I was upset.
I think Sidy might have understood, though. Maybe he has been there. Maybe it is part of the process to hit the wall and realize that it is going to get a lot harder before it gets easier and there are always going to be those cracks of doubt along the way.
Last night, I was back on my game, plugging away, laughing at my screw ups and silently thanking God for my little successes. I can't stay in the doubt. I have to just focus on the process and let things unfold, and work hard and try my best and most of all, have fun along the way.
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