Friday, August 19, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The best gardener in the world
Anybody who's every tried to play an instrument knows that it's not
easy. What surprised me a few days ago is that I'd forgotten this
fact. I started playing guitar around age 12. My dad, who also played a bit
of guitar, thought I was a no-hoper. He was surprised when I finally
became quite proficient. I had the same experience a few years later
when trying to teach my younger brother. He seemed pretty hopeless
and couldn't even get his fingers around basic chord shapes. I didn't
think he had it in him, but he persevered and now he's a pretty decent
guitarist/pianist/bass player/singer/songwriter
(http://www.paperbeatscissors.com). I've watched him stick with all
of these and become what most people would term a 'natural'. His
perseverance has been very inspirational to me because I know that he
worked at it. If anyone is a natural at anything, then that thing is persistance in
the face of adversity. In this case it's sticking with it and
try-trying again every time you don't succeed. Applying this simple
rule basically allows pretty much anyone to do pretty much anything. What I want to talk about here is not the initial learning. Everybody
knows that picking up a new skill is going to be difficult. If you've
never held a guitar before, then putting your fingers on the fretboard
and holding down three or four strings while strumming with your other
hand is going to take a huge amount of concentration and it's going to
be messy for a long while. Eventually though it will start to feel
'natural.' I can remember very clearly the first time I managed to play 'Wild
Thing' at the proper tempo on the guitar. I recall how I could slide
my index finger back on the same string to help me get from the open D
chord to the open E chord. This little trick made it possible for my
fingers to get in the right places quickly enough to play the song. That's nearly 20 years ago. I don't play much any more, but it's a
bit like riding a bike. I feel like I could learn a new song on the
guitar pretty easily once I've brushed away the cobwebs. Therein lies
the danger. The fact that I feel like a guitarist makes it even more
frustrating when I struggle to play something simple. In this particular case I wanted to play an open chord sequence that
involved playing D minor over a C root. I've played open D and D
minor chords many times, but it turns out I've never had to put a C
root in there. That small change involves changing the fingering of
the chord to something unfamiliar. Suddenly, rather than my brain
telling my hand to play a shape, it has to tell my fingers to play
certain positions on certain strings. So, instead of sending the
message "D minor over C" it has to send the messages "put your first
finger here, and your second finger there, and your third finger there
and your pinky there." Quite a difference! The point is that even if you have theory coming out of your ears, you
know exactly what's happening musically, and you've played the guitar
for 20 years, there is no shortcut to being able to play this chord.
In order for it to become 'natural' you have to compress the
information and your fingers have to learn a new shape so that your
brain can just send the message "D minor over C." The process of
learning the new shape will be quicker for someone who's already
comfortable playing the guitar, but my point is that it still takes
time. You need to be aware of this so you don't get put off. The same applies on the drums. That's why I'm always looking for the
"simple things that seem difficult." The things that you feel like
you "ought" to be able to do because you're a drummer. Nothing falls
into that category. The things you "ought" to be able to do now are
the things that you've practised and can do. The things you "ought"
to be capable of doing in the future covers pretty much everything -
just be aware that it'll take time. I think gardening provides a good analogy. Even the best gardener in
the world needs time in order to produce a tomato!
easy. What surprised me a few days ago is that I'd forgotten this
fact. I started playing guitar around age 12. My dad, who also played a bit
of guitar, thought I was a no-hoper. He was surprised when I finally
became quite proficient. I had the same experience a few years later
when trying to teach my younger brother. He seemed pretty hopeless
and couldn't even get his fingers around basic chord shapes. I didn't
think he had it in him, but he persevered and now he's a pretty decent
guitarist/pianist/bass player/singer/songwriter
(http://www.paperbeatscissors.com). I've watched him stick with all
of these and become what most people would term a 'natural'. His
perseverance has been very inspirational to me because I know that he
worked at it. If anyone is a natural at anything, then that thing is persistance in
the face of adversity. In this case it's sticking with it and
try-trying again every time you don't succeed. Applying this simple
rule basically allows pretty much anyone to do pretty much anything. What I want to talk about here is not the initial learning. Everybody
knows that picking up a new skill is going to be difficult. If you've
never held a guitar before, then putting your fingers on the fretboard
and holding down three or four strings while strumming with your other
hand is going to take a huge amount of concentration and it's going to
be messy for a long while. Eventually though it will start to feel
'natural.' I can remember very clearly the first time I managed to play 'Wild
Thing' at the proper tempo on the guitar. I recall how I could slide
my index finger back on the same string to help me get from the open D
chord to the open E chord. This little trick made it possible for my
fingers to get in the right places quickly enough to play the song. That's nearly 20 years ago. I don't play much any more, but it's a
bit like riding a bike. I feel like I could learn a new song on the
guitar pretty easily once I've brushed away the cobwebs. Therein lies
the danger. The fact that I feel like a guitarist makes it even more
frustrating when I struggle to play something simple. In this particular case I wanted to play an open chord sequence that
involved playing D minor over a C root. I've played open D and D
minor chords many times, but it turns out I've never had to put a C
root in there. That small change involves changing the fingering of
the chord to something unfamiliar. Suddenly, rather than my brain
telling my hand to play a shape, it has to tell my fingers to play
certain positions on certain strings. So, instead of sending the
message "D minor over C" it has to send the messages "put your first
finger here, and your second finger there, and your third finger there
and your pinky there." Quite a difference! The point is that even if you have theory coming out of your ears, you
know exactly what's happening musically, and you've played the guitar
for 20 years, there is no shortcut to being able to play this chord.
In order for it to become 'natural' you have to compress the
information and your fingers have to learn a new shape so that your
brain can just send the message "D minor over C." The process of
learning the new shape will be quicker for someone who's already
comfortable playing the guitar, but my point is that it still takes
time. You need to be aware of this so you don't get put off. The same applies on the drums. That's why I'm always looking for the
"simple things that seem difficult." The things that you feel like
you "ought" to be able to do because you're a drummer. Nothing falls
into that category. The things you "ought" to be able to do now are
the things that you've practised and can do. The things you "ought"
to be capable of doing in the future covers pretty much everything -
just be aware that it'll take time. I think gardening provides a good analogy. Even the best gardener in
the world needs time in order to produce a tomato!
Monday, July 25, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Jam nights and terrible drumming
On Monday night I played at a local jam night. It's a while since
I've played live and I was looking forward to the opportunity to
stretch out. However, after three songs I was about ready to give up
drumming all together! Various thoughts went through my head during the songs. I really felt
like I couldn't play - I felt like a complete beginner. There was no
monitoring, so I couldn't really hear a thing I was playing. There
was no PA and I couldn't really hear what anyone else was playing
either. The sound in general was terrible from behind the kit. Also,
I'd been playing on the studio kit for a while and it felt quite alien
to be behind a different set up again. I was using my old Iron Cobra
pedal which was adjusted differently to the Pearl pedal I've been
playing in the studio. To top it all off I was playing songs that I
didn't know (and neither did some of the other musicians by the sound
of it.) All these are potentially valid excuses. I'm sure that if there'd
been adequate monitoring and I'd spent more time getting my drums set
up comfortably then things would have gone a lot better. But I
couldn't escape the fact that I just felt very awkward. In my head
I'd gone backwards. I'm felt sure that I could have done much better
10 years ago. After my 3 songs I went and sat in the car to escape. I spent some
time clearing items out of my old todo list app. One of the lists I
had in there was labelled 'Thoughts' and just contained snippets of
ideas I'd picked up from reading various books. The one that caught
my eye said "Avoid using the words 'ought to' and 'ought not to'". It
seemed very pertinent at that moment in time. Perhaps you never use the word 'ought' at all, but most people at some
point or other say "I should do this" or "I should do that." That
night I found my internal voice saying "I ought to be better after 20
years of playing." It was a thought that I found quite depressing. On further examination I realised that the statement is essentially
bollocks. I'm exactly as good as I ought to be after the number of
hours I've put into playing. Perhaps that isn't as good as I'd "like"
to be, but that's a different thing. I also realised that I probably can play. Maybe not as well as I'd
like to be able to, but certainly better than I felt like I did that
night. The problem was partially lack of adequate monitoring, but
more specifically my lack of appreciation for the importance of
adequate monitoring. Essentially what I was doing was the equivalent
of a painter trying to paint with a blindfold on. They're going to be
disappointed with the results. For future reference I'm either going to have to accept that playing
in that situation is going to make me feel like I can't play, or
remedy it in some way. I certainly could have spent more time setting
up the kit. I could have used the pedal I'm used to. I could have
taken my BC2 drum stool and mic'd the kick. I was just too lazy to do
all these things because I thought they didn't matter. BUT THEY DID.
Not necessarily to the audience, but to me. It's a horrible
experience to feel like you've regressed to being a complete beginner
and it's important to realise that you need to feel comfortable. I think I'm going to brave the jam night one more time and put these
theories into action. I'll let you know how I get on...
I've played live and I was looking forward to the opportunity to
stretch out. However, after three songs I was about ready to give up
drumming all together! Various thoughts went through my head during the songs. I really felt
like I couldn't play - I felt like a complete beginner. There was no
monitoring, so I couldn't really hear a thing I was playing. There
was no PA and I couldn't really hear what anyone else was playing
either. The sound in general was terrible from behind the kit. Also,
I'd been playing on the studio kit for a while and it felt quite alien
to be behind a different set up again. I was using my old Iron Cobra
pedal which was adjusted differently to the Pearl pedal I've been
playing in the studio. To top it all off I was playing songs that I
didn't know (and neither did some of the other musicians by the sound
of it.) All these are potentially valid excuses. I'm sure that if there'd
been adequate monitoring and I'd spent more time getting my drums set
up comfortably then things would have gone a lot better. But I
couldn't escape the fact that I just felt very awkward. In my head
I'd gone backwards. I'm felt sure that I could have done much better
10 years ago. After my 3 songs I went and sat in the car to escape. I spent some
time clearing items out of my old todo list app. One of the lists I
had in there was labelled 'Thoughts' and just contained snippets of
ideas I'd picked up from reading various books. The one that caught
my eye said "Avoid using the words 'ought to' and 'ought not to'". It
seemed very pertinent at that moment in time. Perhaps you never use the word 'ought' at all, but most people at some
point or other say "I should do this" or "I should do that." That
night I found my internal voice saying "I ought to be better after 20
years of playing." It was a thought that I found quite depressing. On further examination I realised that the statement is essentially
bollocks. I'm exactly as good as I ought to be after the number of
hours I've put into playing. Perhaps that isn't as good as I'd "like"
to be, but that's a different thing. I also realised that I probably can play. Maybe not as well as I'd
like to be able to, but certainly better than I felt like I did that
night. The problem was partially lack of adequate monitoring, but
more specifically my lack of appreciation for the importance of
adequate monitoring. Essentially what I was doing was the equivalent
of a painter trying to paint with a blindfold on. They're going to be
disappointed with the results. For future reference I'm either going to have to accept that playing
in that situation is going to make me feel like I can't play, or
remedy it in some way. I certainly could have spent more time setting
up the kit. I could have used the pedal I'm used to. I could have
taken my BC2 drum stool and mic'd the kick. I was just too lazy to do
all these things because I thought they didn't matter. BUT THEY DID.
Not necessarily to the audience, but to me. It's a horrible
experience to feel like you've regressed to being a complete beginner
and it's important to realise that you need to feel comfortable. I think I'm going to brave the jam night one more time and put these
theories into action. I'll let you know how I get on...
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Playing Drums on Mick McConnel's "My Kinda Heaven"
Last summer I had the pleasure of recording drums for Mick McConnell's
solo album 'My Kinda Heaven'.
I got the call after Wishbone Ash came back from playing in South
Africa with Deep Purple and Uriah Heep. Trevor Bolder, Uriah Heep's
bass player, is also featured on the album and he recommended me to
Mick.
Mick's regular gig is with Smokie but he's been saving up songs for a
solo album for some time. He was a great guy to work with and some of
his enthusiasm for scuba diving rubbed off on me - I'm currently
working to get my PADI!
Release Date: 15th July
Available in shops: Germany, Austria, Switzerland.
UK, Europe, and rest of the world; can buy online @ www.mickmcconnell.com
Digital Download: exclusive to iTunes Worldwide, available 15th July
Record Label: FerryHouse Gold
Distributed by: Warner Music Europe
Friday, June 24, 2011
Pantera track - Cool Snare fill
Somebody asked me to transcribe the snare fill in this Pantera song -
It's not really my style (and for any young readers I apologise for
the lyrical content) but the snare fill is interesting.
If you enjoy this content please spread the word. You can help by
clicking 'like' on my Facebook page, subscribing to my YouTube
channel, leaving comments, telling your drummer buddies, etc. I really appreciate your support!
Joe
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