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CREATING THE DRUM PART
by Neil Peart
[ Modern Drummer - August 1988 ]
Recently, an "Ask A Pro" question crossed my desk
that was not easily answerable in 25 words or less, so I thought: "Aha!
Here's another excuse for an article." But here - you'll see what I mean:
"Your ability to play in odd times, play odd
accents, and insert your fills in the most peculiar - yet proper - places
is surpassed by none. To follow some of your more difficult music exactly
seems (at my level) impossible! My question is: While you are playing,
how do you think ahead to what you will play next? More specifically, do
you 'think by numbers'? Do you 'hear' the upcoming riff in your mind? Do
you see the 'hardcopy' of your music in your mind, or do you just let it
flow? Can you give me any advice on a workable mental tract to use while
playing?" Matt Ancelin
Now, aside
from adding to my wonder about why I get so many letters from Toms River,
New Jersey, and making me blush with embarrassment, you can see that there's
plenty of "food for thought" here. Many drummers' minds will start to whirl
when they think about these things, and I think all of Matt's assertions
are, or can be true.
But let's start at the beginning: with the numbers. Of course, it's
never too early to learn to count, a skill that you'll need forever. So
it makes sense that when you first begin to dabble in odd times, or even
learn to flow well in 4/4 or 6/8, counting will teach you the "program."
As you become more fluent in different rhythmic foundations, you will be
able to recall these "hardwired programs," to set you into the right "cadence,"
or to let you pick up the "odd" beats at different times. I've written
about this before, so I won't give it too much emphasis now, but you learn
to subdivide the time signatures into their even-and-odd components, or
to multiply them to make a series of odd bars add up to one long, even
one. This is a trick I have used many times, playing 4/4 over 7/8, 5/4,
or 6/8, and just holding the rhythm chugging along until all the bar lines
add up again, and I can take off somewhere else!
There is another thing, too - a wordless mental "language" that I use
to understand and remember parts. Certain phrases even have a kind of picture
symbol; not notation, or the physical move, but an inner image of the effect
of some little technique or rhythmic twist. So in that sense, I don't hear
the upcoming phrase in my mind so much as see it. This, by its very nature,
is unfortunately not communicable to others. I guess that's why we have
written music!
But let's get into the really deep waters of this question. All of
the above will set you up for comfortable improvising, but what if you
want to arrange a drum part, one that will stand forever as the definitive
way of playing a song? (I know, I know...dream on!) Starting from ground
zero, you have a blank slate - a new song - and a drum part to create for
it. So you play detective, look for clues, put two and two together - and
come up with seven. (Always a good answer!)
But the clues. Perhaps the songwriter will play you a rough tape. On
it, there will be some indication of the tempo, whether it's from a drum
machine or in the inherent "lilt" to the music as it's played. Then there
will be dynamic hints: how the song builds, where you might want to make
the strongest statement, where you can be subtle and supportive, and where
you might add some rhythmic interest. What does the song need? Where are
the vocal parts, the instrumental parts, the choruses, the bridges? These
are all the building blocks, not only of the song, but also of your part
in it.
So you mind starts to sift possibilities: perhaps a big backbeat on
the 3 for the verses, maybe a quarter-note bass drum with 16ths on the
hi-hat for the chorus. And those bridges: Let's try a driving 2 and 4 on
the snare, with a quarter-note ride, to build into the chorus, and then
plane out under the vocals. And I think we could do some clever stuff in
that intro to the instrumental: Bring it down and play across the time,
with lots of those "ghost notes" that Rod Morgenstein is always talking
about.
Listen
to the song another couple of times, mentally going over your "map" of
the musical terrain and trying to cement the arrangement details in your
head. Again, people use different ways to accomplish this, and all are
good. It doesn't matter if you write out some notation (or use the kind
of "shorthand" that many drummers do), or if you're able to rough it out
in your head just from memory. In this case, if it works, it's right! Is
the song dark and introverted, or is it light and airy? Do you want to
be able to dance to it, or is it "just for the ears"? Does your band's
common stylistic ground run to samba, ska, swing, or speed metal? What
sorts of fills are appropriate, and where are they appropriate? And if
you're playing speed metal, can you introduce some ideas from ska, samba,
or swing that might make it more interesting? This is where the fun starts.
Inevitably, it's going to be rough the first few times, especially
if you and the rest of the band are all trying to learn the song at once.
If you can do some experimenting with it at home, even if it's just on
magazines to your Walkman, more to the good. But if you're diving right
into it, again there are two approaches. Some people start as simply as
possible. Then, if they feel compelled to add to that minimalist approach,
they will. Other people start the opposite way - trying everything they
can possibly think of in the first few run throughs, then gradually eliminating
the ideas that don't work. There's much to be said for either approach.
In the first case, you'll interfere with the rest of the band less, and
you'll come up with a good, conservative part. In the second instance,
however, you're more likely to stumble into something original and unexpected,
and if you have the luxury or working by yourself, it's at no one else's
expense. This is, I suppose, the ideal. (Sadly, our world doesn't tend
toward the ideal, and if others are complaining about all the noise you're
making, you may not make many friends. And let's face it: In this business,
you need friends, and you should certainly not alienate the bass player!
So be nice.)
The big word here: LISTEN. As you play the song, take time out from
your explorations of outer space to listen to what your friend, the bass
player, is getting at, and to see how the other instruments are responding
to your rhythmic input. There may be something nice happening that will
trigger other directions for you. One of the wonderful things about working
with other musicians is coming up with something together. When the whole
band gets excited about something, you just know it's going to work, because
everybody will be happy, feel part of this holistic experience, and play
their fingers off.
But there are still many options open to you. Much will depend upon
your own temperament as a player. What sort of situation makes you most
comfortable? Do you like to have your part worked out as much as possible,
so your only concern when you play or record the song is getting it right?
Some wise editor once advised an agonising writer: "Don't get it right,
get it down!" There's something in that for musicians as well, though perhaps
not what the literary advisor meant. If you find you fly best "by the seat
of your pants" - again, if it works, it's right. Go wild.
I have
told the story before about how I was a big Keith Moon fan as a beginning
drummer. All I wanted to do was get in a band that would play some Who
songs so I could wail like he did. But when I finally found a band that
actually wanted to play these songs, I discovered to my chagrin that I
didn't like playing like Keith Moon. It was too chaotic, and things just
weren't placed rationally. I wanted to play in a more careful, deliberate
way - to think about what I played where, and not just "let it happen."
I am driven by a strong organisational, perfectionist demon. Of the two
extremes, I must confess I probably prefer the dull and "correct" to the
adventurous foray that doesn't quite come off. Again, that's a personal
thing, and I sure don't think I'm necessarily right. It's just the way
I am. So I'll continue along in that vein for a while - as that's what
comes naturally - and talk about organising a song.
My personal approach is fairly linear. I'll often start simply at the
beginning of the song and gradually build it - if not dynamically, then
in terms of activity. A simple roll around the toms in chorus one might
double up in chorus two, and then by chorus three become a rip-roaring,
two-bar, triplet-feel flurry of 64th notes. Or a gentle backbeat in verse
one can develop through a Latin feel on the ride cymbal in verse two, and
be echoed by a double-time full-throttle "race to the finish" during the
rideout. Then there are accents, pushes, hi-hat chokes, sudden pauses,
feel-shifts, staccato punctuation’s, downbeats on the toms instead of the
snare, leaving the downbeat out, or emphasising the upbeats on the ride
pattern. There's also something I hear Manu Katche doing with Peter Gabriel
and Robbie Robertson: insinuating the rhythm - playing all around the beat
without actually playing it, but it's absolutely there. This gets more
complicated, but also more fun, and is very satisfying when you pull it
off (not only for yourself, but for the song, the other musicians, and,
hopefully, the audience.
People so often seem to forget that an audience doesn't have to understand
the music to enjoy it. How many of the millions of people who loved Pink
Floyd's song "Money" and bought the Dark Side Of The Moon album knew -
or cared - that it was in 7/4? Peter Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill" again is
in seven, and is one of the cleverest maskings of odd time - and just happened
to be a big hit for him. The time signature just didn't matter; the musicians
used skill and musicality to make it feel good, and that's what the audience
responded to. That's what "accessibility" is really all about: communicating
the thing properly. That's your ultimate responsibility, and your ultimate
blame. Sure, there are no black-and-white absolutes in music, (or almost
none), but it sometimes happens that a great song doesn't "click" with
people because it just wasn't put together right. The listeners might not
be able to articulate the flaw, and neither may the musicians. But if it
doesn't reach the people you would have expected to like it, the song just
didn't connect. So it's up to us to make the connections.
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This page last updated 11/05/2003
