Don’t Bury the Beater

Last summer I saw Nada Surf play at UR. They weren’t my favorite band to see live — most of the songs sort of rolled right by me. Occasionally one would stick and I’d think I had evaluated all the ones before it too harshly, and then they’d play another average tune and I’d judge the great ones as anomalies.

The a-ha moment came when I got a behind-the-kit view of the drummer. His right foot played a kick drum pedal (like my foot does), but unlike my foot, his seemed to touch down just long enough to launch the beater into the drum head and then get out of the way. At the time, my foot would have stomped on the pedal and stayed there insistently, declaring, “This turf is mine,” until it was time for the next eighth-note.

The reason I started to question the way I had played for (then) 19 years was because I could see that this guy had a sense of balance and an amount of control over his foot/leg that I didn’t have. And something about his attack was more consistent and well-placed than what I was able to get. Instead of using the palmpilot (for a change), I made a mental note to try this the next time I played.

Crack, bam, pow. When next I sat down at my kit it was like I was learning all over again, yet had also been given a key that I didn’t know I’d ever lost. This new method — not “burying the beater” as I had been doing — is actually more efficient and thus, louder than pounding the head and leaving the beater slammed up against it for the duration of the note. It’s because you’re letting the head ring like it wants to, not muffling it. And because your foot is almost hovering weightlessly on the pedal, you’re as well-positioned as you can be to hit the next note accurately and on time. Well, I’ll be. Two steps back and three forward for a net gain of one huge leap for drumkind. This is probably something normal drummers learn when they take drum lessons, though I’d always prided myself on picking it all up by ear. Hmph.

It takes a lot more muscle control and balance to do this, but once I started I couldn’t stop. My playing surged with definition and I could finally hear the kick drum giving my band the bottom end anchor it needed (no disrespect to James, our bass player).

I wonder, can I use this theory in other disciplines? Rest, dive in, jump back out, and let the system respond to what you just did. Stay with me — I think there are connections here to the way one handles email, drives a car, cooks food… I don’t know where else yet, but will keep thinking.