I've used this forum to talk about the process of devising theatre, so I figured i could talk about the process of drumming, and parenthetically, developing a set for a show.

I started the weekly drum class over a year ago, at Project Artaud.  However, when they finally closed down the north wing in the late fall for an earthquake retrograde, we were booted out.  It took me six months to get my act together to find another space - one that would allow us to store our gear, play loud, and not be too expensive.

During that time, I caught up with Ed and Dylan, who were planning for their 10th Year Anniversary Thingamajigs Festival.  I had hinted that we would be perfect for a festival that celebrates alternative musical instrumentation (and tuning), and they liked the idea - especially since their very first festival featured bucket drummers (see, this idea is far from new).

So I had an incentive to get the drum class going again, and build a core of drummers who could perform during for the Thingamajigs Festival.  I finally found the perfect place a couple of months ago - the Jon Sims Center for the Arts.  We had a beautifully big room with hardwood floors, and the first couple of classes I hosted had 6-8 people.  I was not too concerned about the time I had available - I knew with the right mix of people, we could easily develop the 15 minute drumming session I had proposed to Dylan and Ed.  Of course, my ideas were complicated and and ambitious, including lyrics and even a home-made-instrument version of Mingus' Haitian Fight Song.

Right before our second class at Jon Sims, I got an email saying that after 20+ (30+?) years, the Center would be closing at the end of the month.  I might have just canned it right there had it not been for the excitement and energy of the people I had in class.  So, four more weeks at Jon Sims, were the lack of consistent attendance was the only constant.  I kept sifting through my head what kind of configuration I could put together, based on who I thought was going to be interested and available to do the Thingama-Gig.

After the Jon Sims Center, I rented band rehearsal space at Lennon Studios (and occasionally still use it, when our new studio is booked) - good enough in a pinch, but the windowless rooms smelling of smoke and beer, while reminding me of the good ole days in my old band Santero, were not the ideal place for us.

I finally got a new class space at Shotwell Studios.  But all the moving around - locations as well as class dates - played havoc on who could and did show up to class.  I had several classes that were essentially private lessons with one other person.  At this stage I was figuring there'd maybe be three of us playing, including myself, and I had to constantly revise my ideas of what we would do.

Surprisingly, I was never worried or stressed about making it work out. My experience with Santero and especially my experience with Balé Techlorico had taught me not only when to make realistic cuts in the plan, but also how to build a bare framework that would "get us through", and then scaffold up a denser program from there.  It feels somewhat like building a bridge over a ravine.  The vision might be something like an ornate version of the Golden Gate, but you start with that first rope across, then pull across a thicker one, then build a slim foot-bridge on which to pull across a thicker cable to hold a more significant bridge.

The way we build the "songs" is by using sets of compatible rhythms and breaks, most of which I've borrowed form club beats or folkloric patterns, and then configured for our bucket-and-trash-bin setup.  Some of these rhythms and breaks have fixed patterns, but for the most part the drumming followings the marching bloco idea - you know all the changes and breaks, but it's the band leader who signals when to make them.  Therefore, while there is a set vocabulary for each "song", how they are built is determined in the moment.  Being present in the rhythm, aware of what's going on and watching for what change might be coming up - or as the leader, planning and signaling what's coming up - is the essence of what makes this kind of drumming so exciting.

I had two people, Teflon and Sharny, confirmed for the show, but 4 weeks out they had not rehearsed together in over a month; and a third - Hank - was undecided.  Thankfully, Hank came by one night with Teflon and me, and we banged out our drum-and-bass rhythm with almost no rehearsal.   Hank and Teflon have been playing with me the longest, and this is the first rhythm we developed together, and that night at Shotwell studios was magical.  Hank was in.

Nonetheless, it was only 3 days before the show that all of us rehearsed together for the first time. The rhythms were re-ordered; parts and instruments changed; Sharny even had a learn a new rhythm two days out. We did a quick run through at an office above an Asian tapioca dessert parlor.

It was within a week of the full moon.  I've developed a much healthier relationship with the full moon, but it's still a very intense time.  On Friday before the show, we wanted to do another run through.  For everyone else in the group, this was their first musical performance on stage, and because our set was so short, precise and yet open to changes in the moment, we wanted to be absolutely prepared.  We walked across the street from the venue, and set up in the parking lot next to an old warehouse, and a car lot on the other side,  The car lot owner took a keen interest in us, and spent some time on the phone as we rehearsed.  The sound of the drums ricocheted off the warehouse walls, creating rhythmic havoc.  We heard a cop car, sure the car lot owner had called because we were disturbing the peace.  After our second song, he called over, "Hey, that sounds great.  Thanks for choosing this spot to play - I really like it!"

As I warned the others, we waited nervously during the festival while the other musicians and artists performed, chewing fingernails and trying not to be distracted while the others played.  When it was our turn, we got up on stage, and VOOOM-PLAY-DRUM-WHOA-AWESOME!

And we were done.  My first reaction was, "We just warmed up.  We could play for another hour!"

Thanks to Dylan and Ed for persevering for 10 years with their Music for People and Thingamajigs, and to Hank, Teflon and Sharny for the awesome performance.