African Drumming Blog

Friday Night Jam eBook

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 17 Dec 2015 20:47:00 +0000

eBook chronicle - peak experiences & growing pains - of jamming

Friday Night Jam: A how-to memoir tracing the learning curves of group music improvisation, the peaks and pitfalls of African hand drumming with electric instruments.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00JHRHYK6

African drumming is usually not well integrated into conventional Western music mixes. This chronicle conveys the challenge of merging diverse musical instruments, genres and personalities; of attempting to produce quality music in a venue that welcomes relative beginners, lifelong amateurs, and random drop-ins for the night. The book offers experiential advice to beginning drummers, or to longtime musicians who have not yet had the opportunity or courage to attempt improvisational collaboration with others.

The Arbiter of Rhythm

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 28 Nov 2015 19:31:00 +0000

The breath itself stands as the final arbiter of rhythm, with words as tom-toms played against the otherwise empty score of the day; these pastiches of form creating their own meaning by virtue of beauty, pleasing effect, internal harmony, ecological composition and interrelation—even without audience, readership, plot, vessel, marketing platform, venue, or costume for appearance in public space.

In another age the word-beats may resurface, dusted off and varnished, reinserted into a mosaic of resurrected meaning; for now they dance, like individual souls on a modern-dance floor, unseeing in the dark, moved like molecules by the vibration of bass force passing through them, gyrating and gawping in the night against the pulse of stars, awaiting some connection which is already, unseen, sounding at the core of their apparently lonely existence, the loneliness itself an illusion.

Living in a state of constant synchronicity, life becomes art. In stillness, emptiness, all life conspires in one dance. Then with or without one’s own agenda, the synchronicity remains, available simply with perception of it. Then the flow begins, and there is no stopping the flood of words, images, events, people, interactions, love and death, wars and brilliant compositions, accidents and great works.

Pausing again, reflecting, resting, taking stock.

Plunging again into the stream. Like a soul in the bardo, down to earth and back again. In the whirl of life, away and then again in motion, the heat of activity takes shape. The music begins. The dancers’ feet slide into step, then run in free figures across the floor. The soldiers march, then creep through the alleyways. There is no justice in this world, only coherence of events conspiring into the picture we create by being here to witness: whatever the picture contains. Even supposed chaos coheres, when framed; and we are nothing, if not framers, by definition even as we are bounded by the frames of our provisional flesh and sensory apparatus.

Our choices frame our experiences. Our fate too represents our unconscious choice. And we are merely parts of the composition in the frames of experience of those we meet.

Details, conspiring. Does it all matter? That too is a choice.

The Friday Night Jam: excerpts from work in progress

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 19 Dec 2013 03:53:00 +0000

Being a kind of anecdotal instructional how-to (and sometimes painful how-not-to), to convey the elusive magic of group improvisation, different every time, so sensitive to all factors, and so emblematic of all human relations. An experiential overview of the confluence and conflict of different musical styles and expectations: acoustic/electric, world beat/rock, drummers/guitarists, perfectionists/amateurs, safe/risk, stoned/straight, standards/improvisation, men/women, fifties/sixties, tight/free. At the core of the journey is the learning of the limited individual ego, with its unique talents and limitations, to negotiate the free and structured spaces with others, to merge in the greater group striving for excellence and beyond, ecstatic union. And in attempting to convey this spirit and process, sometimes letting the words speak for themselves, players in the mix, jamming on the universal pulse.

It will keep the perfect time if we are relaxed enough to feel into it, get into the groove of the all-becoming, through us in cosmic unfolding now here in the awareness boom of our own making and consciousness-keeping: circles of celebration, our sacred duty to carry on, act out in the street theatre of the us and now, the who are we today and tomorrow: to wipe the old memories out where useless, so as to free up disk space for the more creative functioning of programs yet to be heard. Carrying on the energy of youth, of what’s alive today, even with the rhythms of ancient times, cutting through the buzz and blare of advertising unconsciousness, pap and blather obscuring who we are together in the ongoing beat of the keys of right now, who are you, what’s going now and let’s get to it: jamming, of course, into the night if that’s what it takes, universal language music. Fatala says: beyond spiritual politics.

I want to hold too the clear consciousness of clarity and space and time enough for all, of social fabric in music which is metaphorical for all of us relating, ritual the form by which to recognize it, all in the sacred circle dancing, carrying the rock, drinking the potion of our life, sacred fluid together in veins interlinked, consciousness behind the shifting scenes, it’s all a kind of body, a common or linked consciousness behind the shifting scenes of our life interactions, our separate bodies merely limbs and organs and cells of the moving animal that is our human and of course, larger living and nonorganic life, the earth our body, the earth our consciousness. I want to remember this sense of unity and harmony, I almost say purpose but purpose being mostly in the awareness itself, of what this beast is and to appreciate the wonder of its working. To see in this way, the art in everything, the art of everything, that it’s all an ongoing jam, a huge street theatre, we’re playing parts even when we’re unconscious of it, or partially aware, or forgetful, vindictive, and other ways obscured-mind human, which after all is the game we’ve chosen, at some level, to play. All a large computerlike draft, us the players in the unseen program, all the more wondrous because we do have the chance, anytime we wake up to the moment, to enter the programming level and modify, customize, add wrinkles to the brainfold rules, shades of meaning to the patterns, embellishments on the mother beat.

This is visionary: hard to maintain against the play of personality, the separateness of our voices when we talk and write and explore to the utmost our personal and individual opinions and variations. Again the music metaphor is relevant, for the secret of harmonizing these individual understandings is to play together: to allow with tolerance and yet resonance the separate strands to color the tone of the whole, to weave into the hybrid code. To blend the obscurities of rhythmic variation into the common ongoing underlying pulse . . . pulse . . . pulse . . . of our common body which is the sacramental understanding of human unity, love. If this is cosmic purpose in any literal or anthropomorphic sense, so be it. If only symbolic in that way through our own imaginings, that’s as well. It’s the tone of the interactions and spirit of our lives together that counts in either case, and if it be prophetic to state it thus, so be that too.

Read next excerpt from The Friday Night Jam, by Nowick Gray

Making Do Magic

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 20 Nov 2013 15:00:00 +0000

Setting out around the world without a drum is a leap into the unknown. Which countries, cities, towns or villages have drum circles, African dance classes, or jam groups open to newcomers? Are there spare drums to play? Is there a space to practice, teach and play without disturbing the peace?

All my old network links were out of date. Google and YouTube provided some examples of performances here and there, but no reliable contacts. I scoured a couple of leads pointing to a village in Tuscany, but lacking a car, we bypassed it on the train. Halfway around the world in Thailand, there were plans afoot for a fun-sounding winter drum camp, but with no guarantee of spare drums there, and my own plans gravitating toward Central and South America, I wound up in a village in Ecuador (Vilcabamba) nestled in the Andes.

Surprise upon surprise, there are endless opportunities to drum here. I connected immediately, by chance, with an old friend from BC - we go back to the days of an epic trance dance in Argenta - and rented the bottom floor of his house. On the upper floor is a music room with 5 ashikos. They hold kirtans every week which I can play for (along with another drummer I played with once in Maui, who also showed up out of the blue). I could use my living space and one of the drums to record video drum lessons, to upload for an online course. On the hill nearby there are full moon drum jams by the fire. Last week I could play as part of a cacao ceremony. At the end of the month is a festival where I can perform and teach. And every weekday evening, for an hour or two the sounds of djembe and sangban echo over the village square. Will, an expat (extranero) of about my age, rents a second-floor hall, supplies drums, teaches a local Ecuatorian friend, and holds space for whoever else - like me - shows up and wants to play.

Today there are two Argentinians there with their own drums teaching Candombe. After they leave it's just Will and me, trading sangban/djembe parts and solos. Into the unlit hall comes a parent (of indeterminate gender) and two pixies. Their dance energy swirls around us as we riff, tykes' shoes lit like fireflies by tiny colored lights. For half an hour we jam, the five in a spontaneous whirl of trance, sound and motion. This is the fruit of the tree of magic, making do.

Handy Notation

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 03 Jul 2013 22:06:00 +0000

In the world of mobile access, free rhythm sharing, and digital publishing, are printed books of music notation a thing of the past?

I've been producing and selling Roots Jam drum rhythm books since 1996, and the trend definitely points to greater popularity of digital downloads of both written and audio material. Still, however, there are still some advantages to having a hard copy on hand when learning, sharing, or practicing rhythms - whether in a studio, class, home or outdoor setting:

ease and familiarity of handling and reading from large pages while practicing
photocopy or scan selected pages for class, workshop, or personal practice
make your own marks and add additional notation and variations

That said, my own itinerant lifestyle makes it difficult to provide continuous access to printed stock for mailing book orders. The solution, win-win for everyone, is for me to clear out printed stock when I do have it, at significant savings to customers.

For the rest of July and August, 2013, you can save $7 off the print versions of Roots Jam 1 and 3, and $10 off the print version of Roots Jam 2 (more discount because I have a larger stock available). Order now while supplies are still available at this lowest-ever price!
http://djemberhythms.com/books/rootsorder.htm

Video Lessons for Djembe Beginners

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 17 Feb 2013 02:19:00 +0000

Part of the appeal of the djembe as a musical instrument is that it is accessible to beginners. With little knowledge or training you can still sound good and have fun. Of course, "good" and "fun" are relative terms ... as you advance in knowledge and skills, you sound better and have more fun!

To assist beginning hand drummers with a basic foundation in djembe technique and primary accompaniment rhythms, I have produced a few short free video lessons, now available on YouTube. While basic foundation parts can seem simple, experience as a teacher and student has shown me that beginners often struggle with the timing or handing. So these lessons break down the parts for easier mastery, step by step.

Basic Djembe Technique and Vocabulary

Basic 4/4 Djembe Accompaniment: Kuku

Basic 4/4 Djembe Accompaniment: Passport

Basic 6/8 Djembe Accompaniments

How to Tighten and Tune a Djembe

How to Wear a Djembe Strap

Combined Lesson Video:
Djembe Primer: Beginner Lessons

I'll look forward to your comments and suggestions for future lessons!

African Drumming and Chess

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 31 Dec 2012 20:57:00 +0000

It may seem odd to link African drumming to chess, but after numerous reinforcements of this connection in various circles I've encountered, I'd say there must be something going on there. I mean, the very image of box notation is like a chess board, with notes/pieces occupying various positions on the grid (see sample with Kuku solos here). The complexity of possible moves in chess - all subject to a few basic rules of movement - seems to appeal to those musicians steeped in the complex polyrhythmic interplay, within structure, of West African djembe, dunun and bell patterns.

I first noticed this phenomenon in Guinea, where three or four of us out of a group of 18 studying with Famoudou Konate were continually playing challenge chess matches with each other during breaks in the daily drum lessons. Three years later, at the Tambacounda drum camp in Mendocino, California, again I found students and even one of the African teachers (Abdoul Doumbia) were avid chess players. This year on my return to Maui, I reconnected with a former drumming acquaintance from the Northwest, and now before our weekly sessions (dedicated in part to playing material we both learned from Famoudou) we start the day with a chess match in a coffee shop.

Rick (left in photo above) suggested I could play between sessions on a free Android app. I checked it out (Chess Free by AI Factory, below), and like him, found myself between levels 4 (too easy) and 5 (too hard). So I looked further in the Samsung and Google app stores and downloaded a half dozen more options to try. The following is my assessment and review of these free chess programs... assuming of course, that you too like both African drumming and chess!

Free Chess for Android

Mobialia Chess * * * * *
Many options in settings, including scalable difficulty by ELO rating (500-2100, by 50-point increments) and engine move time. I haven’t yet figured out the difference between the two engine settings - rating and time - but just won my first match with it, a hard-fought contest, with the settings at 1100 (my last rating at Yahoo online chess) and 3 sec.

Chess Free (Tojo) * * * * *
Lots of options and levels, clean interface, and tracks statistics.

Chess.com * * * * *
Has some great training tools (Tactics Trainer, online video lessons) to advance one’s game at any level. Sharp, clean interface. A hint button giving advice if needed. The lowest level of difficulty (1 sec. computer thinking time) is challenging enough for me!

Chess Free (AI Factory) * * * *
Great design and interface, with play stats and scalable engine. I got frustrated between levels 4 and 5, with level 4 too easy (the computer too often surrendering its Queen) and 5 too hard.

Yahoo Games online chess * * *
This isn’t an Android app but bears comparison, because I used to be addicted to this format following my trip to Guinea, and now much prefer the intelligent and controllable interface of the Android. The Yahoo interface has the advantage of giving you a live opponent (some of the Android apps offer this feature as well, with an online connection); but with several disadvantages:
* Trouble starting a game. Choose a table with someone sitting, and often they don’t respond. Or it turns out to be a game in progress, which a previous player has abandoned.
* Time pressure. I find the competition of chess stimulating enough, without getting wired on the pressure of timed games on top of it.
* All or nothing. Once sitting at a live game, you have to see it through or abandon it when life intrudes. With the Android engine, you can play one or many moves as time allows, save and return to it at your convenience.

Chess Grandmasters * *
I found the right level - computer thinking time at 3 seconds - but the program frequently crashed, and after a few rounds started other weird behavior like not allowing castling.

Chess Live *
I couldn’t get past the gauche, Commodore 64 quality board look, with the different, metallic-shiny pieces looking all the same.

Chess Free (Optime) *
Glossy pieces hard on the eyes, a little better than Chess Live. Scalable difficulty range, okay, but one big downfall - you can’t save and resume a game, despite “resume” listed as an option.

A final note: there are numerous other options out there, both free chess apps and ones costing a few bucks (including upgraded versions of some of the above). For now, I've got my hands full with a few savvy digital opponents already... not to mention a bunch of drum rhythms waiting with their next challenge!

2.5 minutes of fun

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 11 Nov 2012 19:57:00 +0000

It was the usual kind of deal, only a bit extreme this time: 6 hours of time spent for two and a half minutes of fun. Playing with a band can be like that, with endless rehearsals, discussions, extra practice time, travel, setup, hanging around waiting for the gig to start, on and on, all worth it (up to a point) for the thrill that comes when the groove is deep and the dancers and audience follow you there.

In this case it was no band performance, just a ragtag gathering, whoever showed up, on the street in Lahaina at the Halloween event, and playing on the fly. One by one we assembled with our djembes and duns under the Banyen tree, shielding our eyes from the generator-powered floodlights and fielding interrogations from the security squad. Not allowed to play there, we headed to the other side of the main stage where a lame costume contest was underway.

Five in all, we did have familiarity with each other and the music, as we had jammed together for years at the Little Beach drum dance party on Sunday afternoons. So it worked, right off the bat as I set up a solid Senefoli on the duns (o - O - o - - M o - S - o - O O), drawing a crowd of costumed dancers, first three or four, then five, ten, thirty, away from the throng around the nearby stage. The djembes started heating up, the pounding duns drove deeper, and then ... a tap on my shoulder, mid-beat. Three cops behind me: “You gotta stop playing, right now. Orders from the Command Post.”

Postscript:

Oh well, there’s always Little Beach, and Paia Bay...

Maui Supermoon

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 21 Jun 2012 06:03:00 +0000

The djembe will make you suffer, but it can show you the way to obtain knowledge of nature. ... You have to always play the djembe to get a new spirit. --Alpha Oulare

The djembe offers great rewards playing with a group, and for dancers, but also solo - which is not really solo, if you are joined by the waves and the trees, the accompanying sounds and breezes, and occasional passerby offering a smile.

One of my favorite places to play in Maui is the uncrowded beach stretching away from North Kihei, though often the location can be windy. March 2011 was the time of a "Supermoon," with the moon unusually close and large. Following a lovely day drumming on the beach I caught some shots of the rising moon from Maui Meadows.

View video slideshow: Maui Supermoon

Enjoy the sights and sounds from a magical time and place, and may it inspire you to find such moments live.

Bali and South India drum groups

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 07:00:00 +0000

Here's a followup to my recent blog entries on travels in Bali and India: links to two YouTube videos with footage I shot of local traditional drumming groups.

The Bali group, part of a ceremony on a tiny island offshore from Candidasa, reminded me of Masala, with gamelan-style sounds on the move, from brass gongs and dunun-type bass drums.

The India group put out big sounds like a full band, from just two or three drummers, playing with sticks on a bass drum and a high-end frame drum. From a distance it sounded like a dozen dununs and snares or sabars; up close we were treated also to dancers keeping rhythm with sticks. For West African drum buffs, note the driving 6/8 rhythms punctuated by sangban-style breaks across the time. Later some bystanders came up and explained that this was traditional music and dance of the Dalit people, considered "Untouchables" in the past in South India, but now celebrating a revival of proud identity.

Little Beach Rain

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 21 Dec 2010 21:03:00 +0000

Hopes were high as the full moon swelled, but rain clouds had moved in and hung close over the site of the weekly drum/dance jam at Little Beach, Maui. I arrived just a little late, and it had already started to rain. A few of the diehards were there, appearing uncertain whether to pack it in or gamely keep drumming in the drizzle. I opened my umbrella instead of my drum bag, but after a few minutes the rain slacked off some, so I pulled out my djembe and played awhile. Soon the sangban sat free so I sat cross-legged in the sand and briefly played one of the rhythms I'd practiced beforehand, Kuku. The drums with synthetic heads held sway now in the mist; and next with a strong new lead from one of the doumbeks, I matched an impromptu pattern on the sangban:

O - x - O O - x O - x - x - x -

This groove went on for the standard twenty minutes or so, with some enthusiastic dancers keeping the energy high; and a few other beats followed, but when finally the rain fell harder and the dark descended, I called it a day and headed home. Along the way that sangban pattern kept returning, and I heard it now extended, from a sixteen-beat bar in 4/4, to a two-bar pattern in 12/8:

O - x - O O - x O - O - >
O - x - O O - x M - x -

There was a funky djembe pattern still with me too from the beginning of the jam, a variant of Fula Fare:

P - g T P - P d g T G -

Putting this together with the new sangban rhythm, I realized, might make a good combination. So I plugged these into my digital drum rhythm software, Percussion Studio, and the rest of the parts fell into place. I call the resulting mix "Little Beach Rain." Enjoy!

Fixing Up Beats

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 20 Mar 2010 09:36:00 +0000

While listening to a recording of a Strange Moon jam track, I noticed a pattern that sounded funky but elusive - or maybe I should say, funky because elusive ...

It sounded a bit swung, or what the Cubans call "fix" - with meter somewhere between four and six. Was it ...

a) - x x
b) - - x x
c) - - - x - x

I'm still not sure; or maybe in the jam it was shifting a little between all of these feels. The upbeats in reggae, for example, could sound either like b) or c) depending on the degree of swing.

If we decide on the triplet feel, we still have a choice between a) and c). And actually a) could be expanded to read like this:

- - x - x -
now when we compare c) ...
- - - x - x
we see that the patterns are the same, only starting in a different place. Of course, the relevant question in the context of the jam is, where does this pattern fall in relation to the pulse of the other instruments? Assuming it's a triplet pulse, the beats would either look like this:

- - x | - x -
or this:
- - - | x - x

Fine points, these. Still, such subtleties can have a surprising impact on the quality of the groove.

Goa Gone - Haleakala Hike

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 01:04:00 +0000

I took these photos during a hike through the Haleakala volcano crater on Maui, Hawaii. The sound track is "Goa Gone," a digital composition using West African drum samples with Percussion Studio software, enhanced by live percussion and kit drumming by E. Neptune (bulldogmeditation.homestead.com). For more digital drum compositions like this soundtrack, in mp3 or CD format, click here.

Yin Drumming Yoga

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 09:05:00 +0000

Yin Drumming Yoga: Tension, Attention, Intention

Normally after Yin Yoga class I go right into African drumming: the ultimate yang energy. In the half-hour break between, I walk as if floating, yet grounded and centered. This week there was no dance class so I didn't play again until the next evening, playing sticks on conga for Haitian class, then bell for the Afro-Cuban jam afterwards. It happened to be the same part I was asked to play for both sessions:

x - x x x - x x

In both cases the groove went on for a good 20 minutes, so my forearms got a chance to burn; I had time to realize and relax the tension in my legs and stance; I brought breath to bear to refresh my energy and channel the tension through; I felt the pressure and invitation to ride on that continuous groove with the other players, and especially with the dancers in the Haitian class, where the feedback of the energy is mirrored in their moves and smiles and vocalizations. Through it all, though it has the yang effect of spiraling energy outward in waves of lively pulsation, the energy comes through and circulates back to the core, that black hole of inspiration and consistency, where subtle variations are magnified and further honed into resonance with the whole.

Holding the part, the breath continues. Finding the tension in the holding, in the fineness of repetition, in the bridge of momentum through the string of moments blurring like railroad ties under the locomotive.

Bringing attention to those variations and to the organic texture, the living fabric of time and space as it weaves forward; to the incremental and microscopic unfolding of the moving matrix; to the muscles of oxygen and angles of bone and suppleness of skin.

Finding intention in the path of unity here achieved. The achievement in the letting go, the deepening. Not so much the form one finds oneself in, but the spirit of forming and reforming at every moment, climbing back to the center with every breath, every note.

African Drumming Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 08:16:00 +0000

Sunday, 28 February 2010

Maui, West Africa

I learned some huge lessons this past week about performing West African music ... at least on Maui.

The beauty of the music is that despite its inherent complexity and potential for precise arrangements, it also works well “on the fly” if the players are versed in the basic rhythmic patterns and if a soloist or two is on hand to add dynamics. With a dancer featured on the floor, even just a steady groove can be enough to build momentum - even trance - and hold the interest of the audience. And if things take off to inspire others to dance, so much the better. Then the energy takes off and the initial concern about parts and arrangements gives way to sheer fun.

First, an event highlighting cultural dances was scheduled for Lulu’s, a bar/restaurant in Kihei, the main tourist strip on Maui. A few of us who had been drumming for African dance classes were asked to play some rhythms for a visiting Guinean dancer named Simbo, and also a Haitian piece for Lasensua since we’d also been playing for her class. I was looking forward to this mainstream exposure for the traditional music we had been playing; especially since even when I was contemplating living on Maui I imagined that Kihei would present the most opportunities to perform - though I had thought that playing in mainstream venues would mean only token inclusion of the African drum and percussion elements into electric bands.

In a short practice at Rainbow Park in the afternoon, we drummers rehearsed Konden, but when Simbo showed up in Kihei and we went across the street to Kalama Park for a run-through, he wanted Dunungbe. This was a tricky part for the sangban and it didn’t mesh well right away, so he changed the plan to Kassa and taught us a short break for the arrangement for his dance. So far so good.

Once in the venue as it was about to start, however, we looked at the program and got confused. It listed the “African Drummers” first, then Cuba, then Simbo, then Joel, then Lasensua. And the organizer informed us that were supposed to play for all four of these dancers in succession, after our opening piece. Meanwhile two more guys we’d jammed with before joined us on stage to play accompaniment djembe. No rehearsal, no problem. So we decided to play, in order, Konden before the dancers, then an unspecified slow 6/8, Kassa, Kuku, Yanvalou, tailored to each dancer.

We started in on Konden. As it built up steam, Cuba came onto the floor with his routine, followed by the succession of other dancers while we continued to play Konden. By the end of that piece, 15 or 20 minutes, we wondered, okay, is that it then? But no, there was still the Haitian Yanvalou to play for Lasensua, as scheduled. A couple of other acts followed where we stopped playing and watched, but then when intermission came we were asked to play again so launched into Kuku, while some of the crowd enjoyed the dance floor. Suddenly it was time for Act II to begin, and once again we were asked to stay on the spot and play - so we whipped up some tasty Mendiani for the spectacular mother-daughter aerialists. Glen - who had originally been scheduled to provide the drumming for Joel - had by now finally arrived and joined us onstage, and he traded off with Jessie on the solos. Were we done yet? No, we were asked to play for another 5 minutes so ended, finally, with Kassa, with the breaks Simbo had showed us in the park. The intense energy in the room peaked with performers and audience dancing and an enthusiastic response. Planned? Not very well! Yet it came out a super fun and memorable experience.

After this success of organization on the fly, the following weekend presented a new challenge, a somewhat different grouping of drummers scheduled to play on Friday night in a club in Wailuku, Café Marc Aurel. Again there was a rare opportunity to present the full West African ensemble in a mainstream venue.

I started out at a bit of a disadvantage because I came on board with minimal preparation. Ricky and four others had already rehearsed extensively to work out parts and breaks. I had heard the group was maxed out at five for the small café space, but just as I was making other plans for the weekend, I was asked to join in. Now I had a dilemma, to decide between two attractive but uncertain options. To complicate matters I was in the midst of a progressive fast. On the way to my one and only rehearsal Wednesday afternoon, I felt quite fatigued so stopped for an overcharged matcha-green tea-wheat grass-ginseng-guarana cocktail. It got me through the practice okay but I slept quite poorly that night and was good for not much on Thursday, at the end of which a wave of cold symptoms hit. I knew I would have to decide one way or another on Friday morning.

On top of the physical issues, I was stewing with ongoing doubts about my ability to participate at all constructively, since in the 5-hour rehearsal on Wednesday I was learning some new dunun parts and having trouble understanding how they fit, and remembering which parts went to which rhythms. Would I be there, embarassing myself and the group, with Ricky having to show me the parts? There wasn’t even a set list that I was aware of, beyond the opening piece (which I was going to sit out because there wasn’t time to learn the complicated intro).

Thursday night provided the grace I was looking for: a good night’s sleep, and a specific vision of Mathieu in the café at the gig, welcoming me with his pure heart and positive energy, smiling and assuring me that it was all going to be fun and fine. I woke up feeling refreshed and clear and upbeat, and decided to go through with it, as a learning experience and challenge no matter what the outcome.

I arrived 15 minutes before starting time to help set up. Only Rick was there. The main street in the sleepy old town of Wailuku was deserted. Hmm - oh well, no pressure in that case. But quickly the others showed up, we carried drums in and set up, and people began to filter into the café. By 8:00, half an hour after our scheduled start, the place was packed and we were ready to play.

The music worked beautifully, despite the minimal prearrangement. I ended up on djembe the whole time, where I was more comfortable because I knew the parts for all the rhythms we ended up playing. Not only was I comfortable playing in the accompaniment role, I also had great fun trading off solos for the dancers. Joel was on hand to keep the dance floor warm, until more and more of the crowd got involved and by the end we had the whole place grooving.

The whole event was memorable for me not just as a pure experience of fun and success, but as a huge lesson about grace and patience through a dark period of not-knowing. In fact just the week previous I had heard that lesson expressed in a satsang by the spiritual teacher Adyashanti - that “not-knowing” actually brings us closer to the truth of our real nature than our usual pretence and effort to know. In my case, I suffered through that down time of fear and indecision, and then was given the grace of insight and inner change to emerge on the other side with confidence and energy. Then it was no longer about me, and my concerns about the particulars of rhythmic structure and arrangement, but about the magic of drum and dance and the unified vortex of energy it creates.

Monday, January 4, 2010

FAQ: How can I find more ballet (upright) style dunun parts?

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Short Bell, Long Bell, Universal Break (and Rumba Clave) - a free online percussion lesson

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Ego/Solo

A friend I drum in class said, “I don’t like all that weird stuff electric guitar players do.”
“What about djembe solos? Same thing, right?”
“Depends. They mostly play with structure, not all over the place.”
“Well, some go all over the place - some do it well, some badly.”
“Usually it’s kind of an ego thing.”
We had to stop talking and start to play again.

This is worth some more discussion. Is the soloist an egotist?

Not necessarily. There is in my taste and experience a creative thrill in the freedom of improvisation, keeping of course, at least “track” of the underlying foundation, even if wandering off for a while and then coming back to a “one” with a break or resumption of a familiar pattern or traditional solo. This creative play in itself is harmless and blameless; the key is that it needs to be handled well. Of course a needy ego can seize on it for its own approval and praise. Or a more cooperative-minded ego can spread around the opportunity to do likewise, inspiring the other players to shine.

One thing I’ve been learning at the jam at Little Beach is that it’s a little too easy to get carried away with the seduction of a crazy solo (whether full or sparse). It takes care, not only to be aware of the ongoing structure, but the dynamics: how long a groove has gone on ... whether the trumpet player has just entered the mix ... and does he want conversation or space? ... who else looks ready to take a solo ... how long has my solo gone on ... how steady can I keep it for the next guy ... beware “boredom” and short attention span; instead go deeper, into timing and precision, which is infinite in its refinement because as it happens time and space expands infinitely.

In other words, to play solos well requires a dynamic and sensitive combination of 1) an ego willing to lead and to express the musical creativity it is mandated to convey and 2) a willingness to set aside that ego in the service of the shared responsibility and credit, indeed of the very oneness the music strives to become.

---

In class Steve talked about Mamady's message to his students to "play with feeling." There is something more to being "masters of time" (another of Mamady's phrases) than playing like metronomes. And it relates to the above concept of "expanding time and space" (see also Nov. 17 entry below for further discussion). What fills the space is feeling. It's not just empty void while the mechanical timekeeping needle becomes ever thinner. In fact the time is variable (see the work of Matt Wright) for any human, if you look at it closely enough. The "best" musician is not necessarily the most precisely timed one. That approaches an athletic rather than an aesthetic standard. I would argue that a certain elasticity of timing enhances music in terms of feeling and "groove." Again, though, caution and sensitivity are key, so that the rhythm doesn't simply become a cute showcase for the sly timing tricks of the would-be musical genius. The bottom line is that groove which brings smiles and which speaks to dancing feet.

In the African dance class which followed the drumming class, I was the only drummer who showed up, so Baba put me on stand-up duns (dununba and kenkeni). I played Kuku for warmup and then Marakadon for the main dance. The pattern (in 12/8) was:

O - O - - O - O - O - o

which is essentially the 6/8 Afro-Cuban clave pattern. Since it plays across the triplet pulse, it's tricky to hold the timing steady in the "vacuum" of no accompanying parts. Occasionally Baba did jump on the djembe so we played together, and then my part took on more life as it had the played pulse to bounce off of. Back to the background of silence, again it was relatively difficult to hold the timing exact and consistent - especially as Baba was quick in the beginning to caution, "Don't rush the second part." But he also observed that it was a "gift" to have only one drum part played, especially the foundation dunun part like this, because then the dancers could feel exactly how their steps related to the foundation, and conversely, I had to play to and with them, their moves, rather than with other drummers.

In the matter of timing, I was aware that when Baba first demonstrated this rhythm to the drumming group on hand a month ago, and again tonight at the beginning, he played it with almost a rumba clave feel (4/4):

O - O - - O - - O - O - - o

With my friend Tim's admonition in mind that often in Afro-Cuban music the line between 6/8 and 4/4 is blurred in some middle ground called "fix" (between four and six), I had to navigate these uncharted waters like a sailboat between two lines of markers, the 6/8 (or 12/8) clave on one side and the 4/4 rumba clave on the other. At fast tempos, the way the Cubans generally like to play, those differences melt away; the lane narrows and the boat shoots the gap with no time to wander from side to side. At a slower tempo such as for most of this dance class, the freedom and opportunity to vary in feel comes up against the need to be steady and consistent. Somewhere between those two forces is this essence called "feeling" or "groove," and it is also the place where the drum and the dance meet.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Interesting Times ...

Sunday I spoke to Axel and he urged me to check out Project Camelot and David Wilcock. So yesterday I stayed home from dance class and soaked up John Waterman and Bill Deagle, fireside radio like old school but new school, big picture stuff all the way out and back in again, building on my earlier viewing of Nassim Haramein a few days earlier on CMN, with his talk of vacuum space inside us and inside each atom, a "mini-black hole" with room to resonate and bring into harmony the surrounding frequencies ... and the Tantra workshop about clearing space through inner and outer dialog with subselves and their voices and needs ... and the shamanic workshop about clearing the channel and opening to power, protection and support ... and now tonight I return to the dance class scene and play djembe, kenkeni and sangban, and by the end with sangban for Sinte, relaxed enough to drive and ride the engine of energy, and hearing voices in the rafters of the church hall, deep choral voices that went on and on in the frequency of tempo and pitch of the three dunun bells, the mutes and open tones, and three djembes.

Then I was charged to go to Bembe in the rain forest over in Haiku. I walked into a meeting by the core group. One person in particular was raising a number of issues of musicality and structure and protocol. As a newcomer to the group, I assumed it was about me. But then another person came in and discovered that some of the issues were directed at him. It came down to keeping it simple and honoring the intention to keep things as tight and traditional as possible, to play at the highest level the group was capable of. I felt relieved but also educated, and asked if I was welcome to continue. Basically I was accepted as good enough, but cautioned that it was better to wait and ask for a part rather than just jump in and play whatever I thought might sound good. A little later I asked for clarification about soloing, and got a variety of responses. The bottom line seemed to be, “It just has to work.”

So after this session of intense group concentration, we began to play, with parts handed out. We started with Rumba (I played D - - g D - g - D - - m D - m -); then Mozambique (I risked the rumba clave and carried it off while paired across the room with Rhonda, who had come late); and Bembe (I played the bomba with the M - - O - - pulse).

Again, some very churchlike and trancey spaces, when I realized, in the heart of the groove, yes, this is what all that talk of energy and harmony is about, this is the practice, we are the keepers of the ancient knowledge, the coded frequencies, to achieve energetic oneness, unity, telepathy (the variations in my parts now took place only in those subtle realms, as with Sinte earlier, though that was more physical with my body as well; this was more refined in the audio spectrum), harmony, dance, play, joy, spendor, wonder, and living vibration.

Driving home on the highway listening to Miles in India and “Nepali Pass,” I was transported in a realm of pure music, which is life lived in the space of freedom, honest communication, trust, focus, intention, dedication, openness, shared witness, honoring of tradition, vision, channeling, humility, pride, sensitivity, playfulness, expression, clarity, devotion. Music is the training ground, the practice field, and the performance venue for life lived in the vibrational realm, where we all exist anyway. Only now when we can no longer follow the lie, because we are aware of the larger truths at work in the universe, and those deepest in our own nature, having let the rest of it go, we are now available to be fully in that vibration of our essential beings together in harmony, which is this music and this model for living.

And further in the musical investigation, which again relates to the larger life realm, is the question of technique and knowledge. Going into these ecstatic and high-quality experiences of resonance with others, relies not so much on my habitual preoccupations with broad rhythmic knowledge and variations, but on my more recent preoccupation with energetic evolution and fine-tuning of awareness, through different studies (tantra, shamanic healing, quantum physics, exopolitics, the roots of yoga, self-reflection, personal space, going deeper); and as for technique, a focus on the quality and volume and control of the individual sounds of the drum, or whatever other instrument (flute, dunun, shekere, bell, clave). When considering the rumba clave, for example, I was aware of what I was getting into: If you look deeply enough at any given point in the musical phrase, the space expands around the timing of that point, so there is more room for it to move within the overall rhythm. There in that expanded sense of space, the “point” of time, which a metronome might play mechanically accurately or repeatably exactly the same each cycle, now can expand beyond its one-dimensionality. It diffuses and in fact disappears or transforms its identity into the waveform - it evolves into what David Wilcock refers to as “three-dimensional time” corresponding to one-dimensional space. In fact in this light we can see that a percussion note, if written, has just that one-dimensional identity in space: a point. But if played, in a dynamically coded orchestration in ensemble, it enjoys the other, as yet hidden aspects of its identity: its three-dimensional existence in time: forward, backward, deep. It gives itself over to the frequency of the holistic musical ride that each participant shares (including any dancers or audience present) and also harmonizes the energetic frequency that each person brings to the gathering.

Sunday, October 4, 2009
Jam at Little Beach

Another experiment in drum dance party creation. All the elements are there: free forum for drummers, whether beginner or expert or anywhere in between; free space for dancers to go for it if they are so inspired; an open-spirited clothing-optional beach where it’s not an issue but a natural ease; perfect powdery sand and rolling blue waves in the hours to sunset and beyond when the fire spinning begins; and whatever refreshments you care to bring or share. There’s even space now and then for didgeridoo, and flute, and a few strums on a guitar, and vocal riffs too.

The real action for me, of course, is the good Guinean rhythms; though they tend to repeat around Makuru, Kaki Lambe and Kuku; and the 6/8 pieces are rare and often lack enough solid players.

Every time is a learning experience - as with any challenging dance class or drum class or jam (and as with any relationship, for that matter). It is also a spiritual training ground because the lessons are about self and group and energy and intention, about expression and respect, cooperation and letting go.

Today’s lessons for me I suppose represent some such archetypal principles ...

1. Letting go. If I made some mistakes, in places where perhaps I did too much or too little, the point is to learn from them and move on. In the “too little” category there’s the issue of confidence and leadership, which I’m reticent to project while still feeling a newcomer on the scene, and in the shadow of unquestioned leadership such as when Glen is there.

2. It’s not about me, anyway. It’s about how I can best contribute to the overall musical experience, the vibe in the public airspace. It is a performance, of a fairly forgiving nature, though there are comments of judgment now and then. The lure is to “sound great” when “sounding good” is maybe a less personal-oriented intention. So letting go of sounding great, especially when it’s actually happening, is the biggest challenge, because, well, it sounds great! Hard to let go, however, of “me sounding great.” Which of course if it does persist as a thought form, usually very quickly runs out the other side where the groove is lost and the magic deactivated; and suddenly I didn’t sound great anymore. This is where people look at each other then and say, “What happened?”

3. Of course the effort to sound great is still worthwhile as a goal for the group or event, and my own participation in that. The focus shifts to the subtlety of the greatness. That is, the precision and power of the rhythm itself, well played. Here nothing fancy is required, but keeping focussed on timing and technique. It’s the safe route, to stick with a simpler part, work on timing, or play shaker - yet in fact some of the sweetest grooving happened tonight, just after sunset, when I played the mini-shaker, alongside the little old unassuming bald guy just riding the steady tambourine. Regardless of instrument, it does no good to force solos or variations. Rather wait till it arises - which it will when freed by a tight foundation - and then enjoy riding it through as a reward and embellishment, after first setting things in order.

4. Not letting go too much. Then there’s just getting carried away. I mean, so carried away that it carries everyone else (or at least the dunun player, which is the most important) away too. Then if I get lost out there I’ve stranded everyone else as well. It’s easy to say, “Well, they should have kept going.” But maybe they stopped when they didn’t trust the soloist anymore, because the solo was no longer coherent to the underlying patterns. Leaving space and weaving around the pattern are both good things to do when soloing; but what must remain tight and solid throughout is at least the skeleton, pulse, template or sense of the underlying rhythm - and whatever of that I don’t play while soloing, I must listen for, to keep my bearings as part of my responsibility to the group. Soloing isn’t a license to wander farther than the group is comfortable with. Paradoxically, the price of the soloist’s freedom is the responsibility of leadership.

I take it as a measure of my previous learning that I don’t get too hard on myself for mistakes anymore. I take criticism and my responsibility for the quality of the groove seriously, but I don’t let it get me down the way I used to, or let myself feel rejected or unworthy if I messed up. I try to check in the awareness and then move on, hopefully putting that awareness to immediate good use.

26 May 2009

Recently I have been listening carefully to recordings of flute melodies I have played in a series of jams with friends. Having studied rhythm and played drums and percussion for twice as long as flute (20 yrs. vs. 10 yrs.) I normally approach music in a rhythmical frame of mind.

At first when entering a jam situation with a melodic element like a flute, I think of it in melodic terms. On a more unconscious level, however, the structure of the flute improvisation ends up being at least as much a rhythmic element as a melodic one.

Everything, after all, has its place in the rhythmic matrix, whether the melodic range is a single bell tone, a high-low or open/mute dunun pattern, or a three-toned djembe part.

Experience with the rhythm instruments with their limited melodic range has led me naturally to playing the flute in a similar way, with emphasis on how it fits in the rhythm. This incorporation of flute as a rhythmic instrument holds true regardless of whether the melody is simple or complex, staccato or atmospheric.

Check out the variety of approaches I've taken to jamming with flute and other instruments, in the new CD release by the jam group Strange Moon: Fierce Light (title taken from the inspiring film of the same name, exploring spiritual activism).

more information | to order from this site: (North America / International)

26 April 2009

A day and a month and a season of accomplishment, transition, clarity, refinement, priority, following through, honoring focus set forward with clear intention, and now enjoying results, and also finding clear space on the other side of what had to be done, to find what has to be done or not done now.

Tonight a great joy to play with Kikeyambay for a hot dance crowd including a large proportion of Africans, again - at least for a couple of numbers, primed by Mane at fourth in the batting order, leading to Sabar Clastique which on the basis of two shows is becoming a Classic, before being settled down by the sultry Yankadi.

1. Sabar
2. Hania
3. Reggae
4. Mane
5. Sabar Clastique
6. Yankadi
7. Djanjo
8. Kairoba
9. Nahadi
8. Zaeko
9. Hania 2

Personally it was fun to get past the stage of worrying about being competent, and relaxing with confidence to feel and dance more into the music, while also giving more power and precision to the parts, and entering more clearly and cleanly off the breaks. In the concert my probem was fatigue or perhaps some lactic acid buildup in my bell hand, with a blister prepared that was then raised by the adhesive tape around the dun sticks.

1. Lolo
2. Koniadon
3. Kassa
4. Mane
5. Fula Fare
6. Soli Rapide
7. Sinte
8. Sorsornet
9. Sabar
10. Konkoba

Earlier in the Earth Day parade, Masala joined forces with Samba du Soleil and paraded through town, leading the crowd behind the banner, objects of multitudes of photographers, playing Phat Beat and Samba Reggae, Kpanlogo, and Samba into the underpass to Centennial Square, taking power away from the Legislature to the circle of grassroots organizations. In the concrete box of the underpass, the volume of the twenty instruments - surdos, snares, bells, kenkeni, tumbao, doumbek, tamborims, shakers, shekere - was deafening, and even so or because it was so the crowd echoed its own roar of approval, resounding in the chamber like an open-air kiva to celebrate the spirit and body of Nature with the most powerful expression our culture can muster ... a unified pulsing field of energy, raising everyone’s vibration to a pitch of joy and transcendence beyond self, shaped by the beautifully chaotic order of a rhythm arrangement, like solar systems and galaxies spread across the canvas of the skies.