Percussion

The only musical instrument that I every really was interested in playing was the drums. I should say “percussion,” however, since that handy term covers any musical instrument that you strike, hit, or otherwise wallop. I played a lot of percussion instruments in band class, such as the marimba, the timbales, the bongos, and the tympanis, plus a whole lot more obscure ones I can’t remember the names to. (And yes, my fellow internet trolls, I also understand the eternal power of “more cowbell!”.) I always thought that percussion was cool, and now that I am older and I have gotten to know myself better, I think I understand why.

I think that it is the aforementioned diversity of instruments that really fueled my interest in percussion. With nearly every other instrument, you learn that one instrument and that’s it, or, if there are options, there aren’t the infinite options that are available to percussionists. There are all sorts of actual percussion instruments, but the wonderful thing is that nearly anything that makes a noise when struck can be a percussion instrument. The old image of little kids banging pots and pans together isn’t far off the mark; I remember playing all sorts of oddball items: railroad track segments, wooden planks, bird whistles, boxes of glass, slide whistles, tire rims, coffee cans, you name it. This made it hard to get tired of percussion, and this is coming from someone who got tired of a lot of hobbies.

This diversity also means that a lot of percussion music sounds weird to most people, who are more accustomed to hearing more prevalent instruments, like guitars and pianos. Maybe it is also because most of the notes produced in percussion are short and sharp. Indeed, there are very few mellow percussion instruments, the marimba being probably the softest I can think of, and percussion music can sound very stark and jarring at times. A good example of this is the theme music to the subject of my previous essay, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, where it sounds like the cast and crew got together with pieces of metal and glass found in the back of someone’s pickup and jangled and rubbed them together at random intervals. The effect is unsettling, to say the least.

But percussion music is also powerful. It has a kick to it, literally. Those that have seen live marching bands know especially what I mean. Drum music can be felt as well as heard; the sound waves make a real physical impact on the bodies of anyone in attendance, like waves buffeting a beach. I remember that whenever we had a problem with people in our way as we were marching into the field for our pre-game performance, all of us in the drum line would just begin playing our marching cadence. Suddenly, windows were shaking, car alarms were going off, and the chain link fences vibrated as if they were accompanying us. People sure got out of our way then!

Writing this now, and thinking back to my days as a drummer in high school, I realize what a gift that time was. I was very lucky to have gone to school back when Art and Music were still considered important subjects. Looking back, I realize how much of band was a learning experience. I learned not only about the many technical aspects of music, but I also developed a feel for how sounds and tones interact to evoke a certain mood or feeling, and I also learned how to interact with groups of people to accomplish a shared goal. While a lot of people probably would look at percussion as just hitting things and making noise, I saw it for what it is, an artform. However, it was also a way for me to interact with a lot of people that I probably wouldn’t have had anything to do with otherwise. We forget that part of the appeal of making music is playing it with others.

Copyright 2013 Brian Stacy Sweat