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The best that can be said for the camera work here is that it is at least democratic. You get pianist Michiel Borstlap for the first half, and a too-close-up of me for the second. But there are some sparks in the music that make the video worth inclusion on the channel, despite the poor production values. The ‘bending-up sounds’ are small Chinese peacock gongs laid out on the toms, as I remember. Hence the title of the piece.
If I were a beginner drummer, I’d have some questions. Now that I can play a paradiddle, what do I do with it? When and where do I use it? Are these answers always the same or are they ever-changing depending on the musical context? Can I make up my own answers? I have no intention of trying to answer these difficult questions, but they do point to a hole in the way we teach drums: a pedagogical lacuna, as the academics might say.
Part of the problem is that most instruction books tell you what a paradiddle is, and how to play it, and then stop there. The beginner practices playing it faster and faster, leading, I should imagine, to terminal boredom. Playing a musical instrument starts to get interesting, IMO, when you take it out of your practice room and start playing it with others. That’s another whole can of worms, but music starts around there.
Am I playing too loud or soft? The bass player says he wants A from me, the singer thinks he wants B but doesn’t know until we try C, and anyway, since I’ve practised it for weeks, I rather thought I might try D. Are we swingin’ or groovin’ yet? How will I know when we are? Now we’re deep into human collaborative co-operation, an area of endeavour that needs you to develop - along with your paradiddle - the skin of a rhinoceros and the patience of Job.
This collaboration thing doesn’t go well for everybody. Sitting with Chris Difford of the English band Squeeze the other day, the discussion revolved around legendary music superstars who evidently loathe each other, but have to overlook that in order to get on stage at the next gig. Not much smiling in the Eagles camp, apparently. The Gallagher brothers of Oasis have made a career out of not liking each other. That takes some real skill. The Kinks brothers Ray and Dave were pretty hostile to each other when we shared stages with them when I was in Yes. Led Zep’s Plant and Page have had, er, difficulties, shall we say. Chris told me Squeeze are about to start a two-month US tour, the first major gig of which is Radio City Music Hall in NYC. But and he can barely stand in the same room, let alone on the same-stage, as his band-mate and co-songwriter Glenn Tilbrook. It’ll be a long two months.
As the player matures, s/he will inevitably hit the rocks of ‘artistic differences’, impossible colleagues and band-leaders, varying degrees of paranoia and substance abuse, and flexible attitudes to punctuality. Better to swim around them than keep bashing your head into them, or trying to change people. But wait, now I’m doing the teaching. Teachers can’t protect their students from reality, but they could and should guide them as to how to deal with reality. Drummer Cindy Blackman Santana tells me she learned as much about jazz drumming just sitting at the feet of greats like Art Blakey when she was very young. Just hanging with quality people who’ve been there and done it is a music lesson in itself.
A duo with one other player on keyboards is collaborative heaven, a delight to be in. There’s no confrontation, and after a while of working together, little chance of misinterpretation. The music’s over so fast there is no time to dwell. Michiel has played everything with everyone. All I have to do is listen, and my hands and legs will generally provide something appropriate. Bless them.
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Негізгі бет Музыка Bruford - Borstlap - Peacock Strut (Bruford - Borstlap - In Concert In Holland, 2004)
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