Sarabande! It’s how we roll…

The Spanish know drama. At least that was my impression from two splendid Netflix series we watched during the lockdown: Gran Hotel and Cable Girls (Las Chicas del Cable). Both are set in early 20th century Spain.

cable girls

Ambition, arrogance, jealousy, spite, revenge – these darker human traits blended with compassion, hope, romance and loyalty just as ancient Spanish traditions and social structures began to clash with the modern world at that time.

The dignified “Sarabande,” a Spanish dance, channels that turmoil and majesty.  It is Etude 29 in the book of 50 classic snare drum studies I had been tackling: Portraits in Rhythm.

Composer Anthony Cirone notes the slow and stately 3/4 tempo, with heavy emphasis on the second beat of the measure. This is particularly true during the powerful theme that starts and ends the piece.

snare roll

Photo credit: Nadine Wirsig

Because I had also dusted off my hi-hat, with its bright-sounding Sabian cymbals, I decided to emphasize that second-beat drama with a simple ornamentation — a controlled quarter-note crash of the two cymbals, mirroring the quarter-note snare drum roll.

Counterpoint and suspense

In contrast to the slow theme, the piece features tricky 32nd-note syncopation, some triplet counterpoint, and crescendos foreshadowing the main theme.

During practice, I couldn’t help grimace as I navigated the tough passages.  I slowed them down, and also read the rhythm in my head to try to get it right.  Likewise, I couldn’t help but smile when I hit the majestic main theme, punctuating its second beat and roll with a crash of the hi-hat.

etude 29 two

I made a mental note to apologize to the composer for adding in the hi-hat to a pure snare solo, but felt it showed musical interpretation. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

Another heatwave had hit Toronto and the AC was not reaching my daughter’s old room on the third floor. I turned on a portable fan, felt the sweat bead on my forehead, and tried to get inside the music. With its majestic flow, the Sarabande had its origins in Central America, its popularity through the Baroque period in Europe, and interpretation well into the 20th Century by composers such as Debussy.

As I focused on the piece, I got lost in its dark Spanish drama.

sarabande dance two

 

 

Getting on my hi-hat

After reconnecting with my snare drum after many years, it was time to get on my hi-hat, so to speak.

The hi-hat can be a drummer’s loyal friend, keeping a simple beat on the two and four of a 4/4 bar. The next moment, it becomes a wild child, exploding in syncopation and synergy of hand, foot and mind, and a medley of sounds.

high hat Ian

The instrument is made up of a chrome stand holding two opposing cymbals of matching width. The cymbals are brought together by a foot pedal.

When closed and struck with drum sticks, hi-hat cymbals make a crisp sound. When opened and struck, the cymbals resonate with a symbiotic crash.

You may recall the mysterious intro to The Pink Panther theme song. Accompanying the moody sax melody is a classic jazz beat in which the hi-hat alternates open and closed strikes in a swing style.

Deconstructing my “flat hats”

The strange tale of how I acquired this particular hi-hat would be told another day. Certainly the Sabian cymbals themselves derive from a dark story. It involves a falling out between two brothers of the famed Zildjian family, with its cymbal manufacturing heritage in Turkey.

It’s said that after realizing he would not be tagged as the next company chief, brother Robert took his expert knowledge of cymbal-making to New Brunswick, Canada. There, he opened his own cymbal company in the village of Meductic. The Sabian company gained favour among top drummers globally, and lives on in New Brunswick under the leadership of Robert’s son, Andy.  Talk about a Canadian manufacturing success story!

high hat bottom hat

My Sabian “flat hats” are apparently similar to the Zildjian “quick beat” model. By examining and testing the cymbal, I understood what their design was trying to accomplish.

The bottom “hat” on this pair of cymbals has three large holes drilled in it, in addition to the centre mounting hole. The three holes allow air to escape more easily when the cymbals are closed. So when you strike the closed cymbals, you get more resonance than with a pair of non-drilled cymbals.

Not truly flat, my bottom Sabian hat has a shallower concave shape and heavier gauge than its top hat partner.

Brilliant!

For different sound effects, the top hat can be struck on the bell, flat and rim of the cymbal. I found the tone of my cymbals to be bright, and almost too loud or jarring for the cochlear implant in my right ear.  Some duct tape might help, I thought. Sabian might not approve, but I knew I had to modify the cymbals’ brilliant but sharp sound.

A pair of these cymbals, in good used condition, will set you back a couple of hundred bucks. I had acquired them for a song, in a tale to be told at a later date.

After I dusted it off from an extended stay in our basement, the Yamaha stand was sturdy and its pedal had a nice action. The hi-hat’s foot pedal can be rocked with the foot and toe, or hammered with full foot and heel, depending on the drummer’s need.

I adjusted the cymbals down to a position where I could get at them better while seated on my daughter’s old bed. That is because, so far, I had yet to re-acquire a proper drum stool.

high hat full

As I experimented with some beats on the hi-hat, I recalled our high school band teacher, Al Harkness, challenging me to match the hi-hat part in “Birdland.” The instrumental song was a fast and intricate jazz/fusion composition by the band, Weather Report.

The signature drum beat in Birdland required a fast repeated closing and opening of the hi-hat, and a strike on the upbeat while the hi-hat was open. I was frustrated because I could not get it when Mr. Harkness put me on the spot. But I went home to practice the hell out of it. Once I could loosen up on that beat, the song flowed. Our high school band did it justice.

Fast forward to 2020. I decided to try to modify the snare drum solos I was practicing to play them using the hi-hat as well. And possibly adding in the bass drum the following week.

I wanted to get good enough again on my hi-hat to get back on my high horse as a drummer.

 

 

Music and memory with Mom

I reminisced with Mom recently about the time she had been the accompanist for my post-secondary music program auditions.

“It was a classical piece for marimba, and you played the piano accompaniment,” I said. “Remember?”

After high school I had auditioned for music programs at York University, University of Toronto and Humber College.

“Did I?” my Mom, Sheila, replied. She was going through some health troubles complicated by the lockdown and her memory was not good.

“Yes, it was a lovely piece but I can’t remember the composer.  You waited patiently while I performed the other pieces. I played timpani, snare drum, vibraphone and then you joined me for the marimba piece.”

“Well it’s nice to be reminded about these things,” my Mom said.  “I am glad I could help.” I went on to recall how far she had pursued piano — up to Grade 10 Conservatory performance and then beyond with the Grade 10 theory and music history studies.

I remember Mom taking the same diligent approach to her music history studies as she did to a complicated piece on the piano.  She was well prepared, so could play a piece beautifully, and pass a tough exam.  We heard her play piano in church when we were kids, accompanying the hymn sings in the Sunday School.  When Nadine and I were married, Mom played a piece for us at our reception.

Mom had her hands full as the parent of three kids but still found time for her music. She taught me some piano basics when I was a little kid but also realized I had a passion for percussion. So when I was about 10 or 11 she found me a great teacher, Glenn Price, after spotting a classified ad in the weekly Don Mills paper. She encouraged me to take lessons.

Family unit

Our Dad, Douglas, was not a musician but had a strong tenor singing voice and sure vocal pitch from his school days in the UK. He quietly encouraged of all of our activities, including music, driving us to practices and coming to watch us play music or sports.

mom kids and piano

Looking back, I know I was a bit blasé, more likely sheepish, about my Mom joining me for my music auditions in my late teens. Now as a parent myself, I realize what it must have taken for her to do it. I was eager at that time to get into music school and she was on the line to help me. And she came through for me.

I was accepted by both York and Humber, and chose Humber for its focus on jazz and modern music. I did not stick with music as a study path or career but was proud to be accepted into, and briefly experience, a top music program.

I recall hearing my North York Percussion Ensemble friend Tony go into the audition before me and blow the doors off the drum kit, sending some sweat down my back as I listened in the hallway.  Among more than 100 drummer applicants, Tony and I got two of a handful (maybe 10?) drumming spots in that first-year class. Humber also knew that both of us had played the gamut of percussion instruments as members of the percussion ensemble.

Mom’s memories of those times are a bit foggy, but she feels better knowing these things when I fill in the gaps. One of the problems with memory loss is you may lose the knowledge of your own talents and accomplishments.

Mom was facing some major surgery at Toronto General Hospital recently. During the lockdown and her hospital stay before the surgery, we kept in touch with her by phone and were able to visit in person just once for a health consultation.

Music was a fond and familiar topic. I asked her a few questions about what music meant to her:

You had a piano teacher early on, nicknamed “Lemp” who was an inspiration for you. Can you tell me more about her and why she inspired you?

Miss Lempriere was the piano teacher at my boarding school, Claremont, in Esher, Surrey. She was always very well dressed and had a beautiful smile. She would have been in her late 20s. She gave me weekly lessons in the drawing room on a beautiful grand piano.

I had taken piano lessons before I went to Claremont, but Lemp and I had a good connection; we seemed to understand each other. She was not too demanding, but she would start the lesson by playing the piece I was learning.  I heard the piece the way it should be played. And so I would make sure to practice.  There were two smaller practice rooms there with upright pianos. When I played at my lesson, Lemp would tell me which sections to practice more for the next lesson.

While we were away from home at boarding school, our families would visit on occasion and the children were allowed to come out on the front steps, watch for their parents to come, and wave to greet them. I was at Claremont through high school into what was called Upper 5th, which had an exam and would allow me to qualify to apply for a job.

Your Mom, Ruth Henwood, was an excellent pianist and seemed to easily sight-read and play different forms of music. 

I can’t remember a piano in our home but she must have started me on lessons near our home. My mother also sang in choirs.

Who is your favourite composer and why?

Beethoven creates changing moods in his compositions. An example is the Sonata Pathetique, where a theme is developed through different movements. There are changes from major to minor keys, and changes of feeling.

I also enjoy Mozart’s music for its expression and sometimes light-heartedness.  You can listen to it and imagine running along a hillside in the summer.

Sonata pathetique pic

You played the Sonata Pathetique and some of your other favourites when you were at the Toronto Rehab Institute recently. [Your daughter] Louise brought your music there.

I still love playing. They had a piano in a kind of kitchen area there. I did have a few nice comments from people who listened from the hallway.

Sonata Pathetique score

After you came to Canada, you pursued the Royal Conservatory piano studies as an adult. You achieved Grade 10 in performance.

I am glad you can remind me of these things. I also enjoyed the music history.  Perhaps the history more than the theory, although both are important.

Thanks Mom for these music memories.

 

 

 

Fireworks! Musical dynamics in Cirone’s “Allemande”

The second snare drum solo I tackled was the Allemande, channelling elements of a traditional German dance. Composer Anthony Cirone notes the form’s moderate 4/4 tempo, upbeats, and frequent short, running figures.

But the part that really got my heart thumping was a furious section of syncopation and rolls that build on the theme introduced in the simpler first section. And how the theme is reprised at the finale.

Etude 27 me

Cirone is keen on the dynamics of music. When we look at contemporary music, some drummers make the mistake of going full-bore throughout a solo. This style, ironically, takes away some of the power of the work. In music, as someone said, without a pianissimo, there is no fortissimo.

Jazz drummer Buddy Rich sometimes got knocked for his showy style and surly band leadership but when I saw him play live several times in the 1970s, I was mesmerized by his musical dynamics.  Buddy created counterpoint in his solos with a whispering snare roll or delicate transition to cymbals or drum rims. So when he went full bore and fast tempo it was like fireworks.

Fireworks

Percussionist and composer Anthony Cirone expores musical dynamics throughout his classic book of snare drum studies, Portraits in Rhythm.

I tucked into his Allemande, Etude 27, and practiced its different segments. Those included the simpler introductory theme and the piece’s trickier passages of sixteenth-notes, rolls, syncopation and rudiments such as the flam. Here and there I took out my pen and marked stick patterns with “R” for right hand and “L” for left hand, for better execution.

To give myself a break I sight-read through and enjoyed the next three segments of  this four-part study (Etudes 27-30) channeling an 18th century dance suite.  The Courante was lively.  The Sarabande was powerful.  The concluding Gigue was giving me trouble, so I tried to drop some of the rudiments in its trickier passages and just get the flow.

“Hot drumming”

During an early summer heatwave,  my daughter’s old room was a sauna, but it felt good drumming through Etude 27 with the occasional bead of sweat running down my back and forehead.  I found an old fan and turned it on to blow the hot air around.

I was enjoying the feel of the drumsticks and the sound and tactility of my CB “Percussion Internationale” snare drum. The drum with its U.S.-made heads and Taiwanese chrome shell lived up to that name, even it was a cheap knock-off scorned by some drum purists.

CB logo

My two-year-old cochlear implant hearing system on the right side evoked the richness of the drum’s sound — its pitch, depth and resonance. To me, the drum sounded beautiful.

When I was comfortable enough with Cirone’s Allemande study, Etude 27, I intended to ask my spouse and covid isolation partner, Nadine, to tape my second snare drum solo on my cell phone. But she was working from home — on her phone — so I taped it myself.

The video evidence

When I watched the tape I saw a sweaty middle-aged guy with posture issues looking a bit too lackadaisical for some of the fireworks that the piece demanded. I saw myself hitting a few rough patches. On the flip side, there were some nice changes between segments and my eyes bugged out during the syncopated rolls at the end, indicating I was locked in to the music.

I vowed to practice more to nail it.

Etude 27

 

Dancing with Anthony Cirone

I was making my snare drumming comeback with Etude 1 of Anthony Cirone’s book, Portraits in Rhythm. With daily practice, I could enjoy its syncopation, themes, and tricky passages.

Allemande dance

But glancing further ahead, many of the 50 snare drum studies in Cirone’s book seemed intimidating. I put down my sticks and took the book away for a closer read.

Its first half focuses on musical elements such as tempo, development of musical themes, and dynamics. The second half explores a variety of classical musical forms, interpreting them for the snare drum. Hmm.

I flipped through the book until I found four consecutive studies channelling an 18th century dance suite. This series of Etudes 27 to 30 takes the drummer through German, French and Spanish dance structures:

— the Allemande, with its accented upbeat, and 4/4 time power and precision

— the Courante, in 3/2 time with its swooping phrases

— the Sarabande, with its stern and dramatic chorus, in 3/4 time

— and a lively Gigue in 3/2 to conclude the dance suite.

As I hacked my way through a sight-reading of the suite, I felt like I was fighting the music. But some neat parts started to jump out — like the syncopated rolls and power of the Allemande’s finale. There was also the Sarabande’s forceful chorus, made even more so as a counterpoint to the study’s fast passages.

My forearms tingled — I had hope. I decided to do a deeper dive starting with the Allemande, Etude 27.

Etude 27

Next door, the neighbours had moved out temporarily during a home reno, so I could drum unabashedly. Our older daughter’s former third-floor bedroom was my new drum studio. Nadine gave me some encouragement: “I thought I heard thunder but it was your snare drumming — sounds good.”

Composer Anthony Cirone was teaching me to dance.

Boomer plays first snare solo in 40 years

Anthony Cirone was killing me.

I had dusted off my snare drum and cracked open the acclaimed percussionist’s music book, Portraits in Rhythm, to Etude 1.

In this short study, Mr. Cirone introduces a theme and develops it later with some twists, turns and ornamentation. One passage is particularly tough as it combines speed and syncopation with a drum rudiment called a flam.

I slowed that passage down and ran through it a bunch of times. I was essentially sight-reading the piece at a slower tempo, but parts of it were getting easier. I could appreciate the piece’s musicality, force and whimsy. For a change of pace, I took a few minutes to tackle the second etude, which introduced a 3/4 time signature. Like Etude 1, it also starts simply but soon takes some tricky turns. Damn!

I glanced ahead in the book a few pages and was intimidated. The complexity of many of the studies made me feel like Super Mario. I was about to journey through a changing and sometimes hostile landscape, leaping over deep chasms and dodging various object and enemies.

But maybe that analogy is not fair. It’s more likely that Mr. Cirone had a higher purpose in mind.  He was not out to kill me. Rather, he was throwing change-ups of time signatures, rhythms and tempos at me because he wanted me to be a better drummer. Thanks Anthony.

After running through Etude 1 many times in daily short practice sessions, I asked Nadine to videotape me playing the short solo. Get a good shot of the sticks, and make sure the camera is high enough to take away my double chin. Thanks honey!

I dialed back my metronome a bit from the blistering pace of 132bpm and set my foot tapping. I was tackling my first snare drum solo in 40 years. It would be rough but more practice and perhaps a shot of single malt would help in future. Show time!

snare solo

Editor’s note: 1-minute video can be found on Ian’s FB page.  He is too cheap, or perhaps not tech-savvy enough, to upgrade his blog software to include video here. 

 

 

My snare drum speaks

With my snare drum dusted off and sounding crisp, I decided to tackle my first solo in 40 years.

My pilgrimage to Toronto’s Long and McQuade music store had yielded a classic and familiar book: Anthony Cirone’s “Portraits in Rhythm,” comprising 50 studies for the snare drum.

Cirone was an east-coaster. He grew up in New Jersey and studied at the top-flight Julliard School of Music in New York City before landing with the San Francisco Symphony as a percussionist.  He went on to a music professorship at San Jose State University and a lifetime of percussion performance and teaching.

portraits in rhythm

Musical potential

Cirone wrote Portraits in Rhythm when he was just a pup — in his 20s — but it set a standard in snare drum and percussion teaching internationally.  Cirone explored musical themes, forms, dynamics and phrasing for an instrument that was sometimes neglected in classical circles. Cirone wanted to show the rich variations and musical potential of this core piece of the percussionist’s toolkit.

While studying percussion with my teacher Glenn Price in the 1970s, I had worked through many of the etudes in Cirone’s book

Four decades later, I had some trepidation when I set the book on my music stand and opened it to Etude 1.

Etude 1

I picked up my drum sticks and checked the required tempo.  At 132 beats per minute, the piece felt blazingly fast.  So I dialled back my metronome to a more leisurely 108. Then I took a crack at sight-reading the piece from start to finish.

It’s a concise study that sets a theme and reprises it in different variations, telling a musical short-story. There are some extreme dynamics ranging from double forte to pianissimo, and speeds ranging from quarter notes to sixteenths. Accents, syncopation and drumming rudiments are part of the story-telling.

I got through Etude 1 at my “Moderato” tempo in less than two minutes, with a bunch of mistakes, but with a  smile on my face. I felt some muscle memory kick in, and I enjoyed the piece’s syncopation. There is a certain freedom in sight-reading, knowing you will screw up, but enjoying the ride anyway.

I started booking a daily practice section and broke down Etude 1 into segments, starting with the final passage.  Once I had practiced all segments individually, I ran back through the piece several times.

Honeybees and nosy neighbors

I was a bit nervous about sending shockwaves through the brick wall to the neighbors in our semi-detached house, so started with the snares off and the drum mute on.  I also laid a honey-bee-themed cotton tea towel on top to dampen the snare drum’s top head. I folded it to reveal its punny, inspirational message: Bee Happy.

be happy

In several passages, I noticed I was tripping up. One was a syncopated segment that is full of flams — drum rudiments where a softer grace note in one hand precedes the strike in the other.  So I slowed down that passage and ran through it repeatedly.

My sheepishness at bugging the neighbors subsided and I could open up to full force on the double-forte passages.  For the softer sections, I used the edge of the drum head to get a crisper sound. I tried to relax the sticks in my hand and let the piece flow.

Going Allegro

After a couple of practice sessions I grabbed my metronome and set a tempo of 116bpm — approaching the piece’s “Allegro assai” tempo of 132.

I searched YouTube and found some other percussionists playing Cirone’s Etude 1. Surprisingly, one of the videos with megahits featured the piece in what I felt was a dreadfully slow tempo. Hmm; drummer’s prerogative. Then I came across a couple of drummers who played it to the specified tempo of 132bpm, albeit with some of their own interpretation on accents, crescendos and other elements.

Listening to the piece online reinforced the theme and dynamics of the music.

I turned the page of my music book and hacked my way through Etude 2, sight-reading it as best I could. For fun, I mucked about with some drum rudiments like paradiddles and rolls. And a few rimshots.

Playing the drum perked me up during a troubled time. I made a mental note to ask Nadine to videotape me playing the piece. That would put some heat on me to practice more and get it right.

My snare drum was speaking to me.

**********************************

More info:

Anothony Cirone’s web site:

http://www.anthonyjcirone.com/

Anthony Cirone

 

Dusting off my snare drum

As winter approached, I set a goal of relearning some classic snare drum solos. But my grand plan to practice each night got pre-empted by Netflix. Dreams of drumming were shot down by the Tiger King and a dark Spanish drama: The Grand Hotel. Exacerbating this dilemma was the coronavirus lockdown — TV series and movies were a necessary diversion.

drum and stand

The snare drum beckoned, though. This instrument spans musical genres ranging from a military march to the backbeat in a rock song to a passage in classical music. I learned to play it starting in Grade 6, when my Mom Sheila spotted an advertisement for drum lessons in the Don Mills Mirror newspaper. She encouraged me to give the drums a try.

Rudiments and inspiration

My new music teacher, Glenn Price, started me off with the rudiments of snare drum playing. A rudiment is a musical building block. It can be simple, like a “flam” with its softer grace note preceding the louder strike on the beat. Or more complex, like a drum roll, in which each hand plays two beats that alternate into a buzz ranging from a whisper to a roar.

Flams, rolls, paradiddles, ruffs — these were some of the required rudiments of snare drumming I had to learn before tackling a piece of snare drum music.

I obtained a Remo practice pad to use at home. I beat the hell out of it for an hour each day after school, and got better at reading, and sight-reading, drum scores. The snare drum technique was a foundation for subsequent lessons on drum set and a variety of percussion instruments from timbales to the marimba.

One weekend, Glenn drove me to Long and McQuade’s music store in downtown Toronto to get my first drum kit. It was a beat-up but well-made dark-green-sparkle German Sonor Kit with a cracked Zildjian ride cymbal — the works for $175. I was thrilled.

I studied with Glenn through junior high and high school in the 1970s. In my one-hour lessons, he would push hard on percussion fundamentals and we would work on “independence” of the two hands and two feet on drum set. Then he would play a record album and we would listen and decode the drum part. I recall being mesmerized by Emerson, Lake and Palmer, King Crimson and other bands in his record collection.

Stepping stones

All these years later, I was dealing with a very different hearing system. My brain had to interpret signals from the cochlear implant in my right ear, and a conventional hearing aid in the left. These high-tech devices had helped restore hearing lost to an inner-ear condition called Meniere’s disease.

Understanding human speech was much easier, but hearing or playing music was still challenging. Percussion generally sounded crisp, though.

Perhaps the snare drum could be a stepping stone to get back into some music fundamentals.

In my 58th year, I hauled out my old snare drum and stand from the basement and set it up in my daughter’s room upstairs. In a hopeful touch, I placed a music stand behind it, and a pair of sticks on top of the drum.

Before I could dig into my first snare solo, I reacquainted myself with the drum.

My snare drum is not a purist’s dream. It is not worth much more than a few lattes at Starbucks. But it is solid and has a rich sound.

It is a CB Model, made in Taiwan, likely in the 1980s, in an era when the traditional U.S. drum manufacturers had come under heavy competition from offshore drums.  These knockoffs were not necessarily inferior instruments, but they were much cheaper. I believe CB is a cheaper model once made in Taiwan by the Pearl drum company based out of Japan. (This particular drum is actually my back-up snare. How I acquired it would be a story for another day.)

Deconstructing the snare drum

I took a closer look at my CB:

Its shell is deep and heavy, surfaced with what looks like a thick chrome plate. The heads are good-quality U.S.-made Remo and Evans.

The snares themselves are a cluster of thin wires stretched along the bottom head of the drum. When the top (or batter) head of the drum is struck, the wires resonate, sounding like buzzing wasps, against the lower (or snare) head.

snares

A snare control mechanism called a strainer allows me to engage the snare wires, or to disengage them from the bottom drum head, and to adjust tension in both on and off settings. When the snares are turned off, the drum sounds very different — hollower, minus the buzzing wasps.

snare mechanism

We don’t usually think of musical pitch in a snare drum, but the drummer can use a key to tighten or loosen the lugs and rims that hold both heads, changing the pitch and fullness of the sound. A circular mute knob can also dampen the top head for a flatter sound.

lug

A tiny air hole plays a huge role — it allows air to escape and the drum to resonate when it is struck. On this drum, the air hole sits just underneath the funky CB “Percussion Internationale” badge.

CB logo

The stand holding the drum has three adjusters to ensure the snare drum is tightly gripped, tilted according to the musician’s wish, and at the correct height.

My stand is designed for a seated drummer playing a set, so cannot be raised high enough to play standing. To learn a snare passage, I would have to sit on the bed in my daughter’s old room. Luckily, both our daughters would not have to plug their ears — they have left the nest for Scotland and the U.S., respectively.

stand

And finally, a pair of sticks.  A hardwood, like hickory, holds up to drumming demands. The 5B marking connotes a mid-sized thickness and heft.

sticks

The sticks strike the snare drum head but can also be used on the drum’s rim for a tinnier sound. Combining those two options is a “rimshot,” when the stick strikes the rim and head simultaneously. The sticks also have some resonance themselves — you can feel their vibrations in your hands when you play.

Enough talk

After dusting off my old snare drum and reacquainting myself with its components, I made a pilgrimage back to Long and McQuade’s on Toronto’s Bloor Street West. I wandered into the drum section and ogled some vintage kits as well as new electronic drums.

But my real mission was to find sheet music. Upstairs, I flipped through percussion sheet music and came upon a familiar music book of 50 drum solos that my teacher had introduced me to years ago. The wheels were turning.

My CB snare drum had been dusted — its chrome sparkled.

It was time to walk the talk.

 

 

Elemental: John Bruder’s music

I first met John Bruder in the elegant McLaughlin Auditorium at Sunnybrook Hospital. We had gathered for a presentation by the Sunnybrook Cochlear Implant (CI) program. Some of us, like John, had already received an implant. Others, like me, were on the waiting list and experiencing a blend of dread and excitement. I wanted to learn more about the surgery and technology that might give me a chance to hear better. 

I recall noticing that John, who was sitting in the row behind me, wore his cochlear device with pride — the circular magnet, cable and high-tech processor stood out next to his ear against close-cropped hair. 

John and I met during the break and promised to get together for coffee. I visited him at his office downtown, where he worked as a management consultant at one of the big consulting firms. We’re roughly the same age; he was hanging in there with his career, while I was about to take a break to deal with hearing troubles.

I learned that John was a musician, and was encouraged that he was still playing piano.  With some trial and error, he had learned to appreciate music in a different way. The act of playing music now, with his new CI hearing system, also helped him to listen to and appreciate music.

During the covid epidemic, I reached John on the west coast, where he was temporarily riding out the storm, and he agreed to share his story:

John Bruder

How long have you played music and how did you first start?

I’ve been playing piano for almost 50 years — I started when I was 8.

I actually had a schoolboy crush on a girl named Beth, who played piano. I naively thought that we’d have the same teacher, or meet in some way, if I played the piano! I had a variety of piano teachers growing up, living in Kapuskasing, North Bay, Peterborough and finally Toronto.

How did your music teachers inspire you?

Fred Pritchard in Peterborough, during my high school years, was a strong influence on my classical piano work. He was quirky but very passionate. He held a global piano Licentiate Diploma, the highest level of Royal Conservatory achievement. Under his guidance, I made it to the Kiwanis Festival provincials one year.

I recall that competition for two reasons:

The first is that I played Rhapsody in C by Dohnanyi. It was unique, as it was written for a Bosendorfer Piano and, as a result, it had a low note in the score that a normal piano couldn’t accommodate. The bottom octave on the Bosendorfer also has reverse colouring on the keys — the raised keys are white and the sunken keys are black.

Secondly, during the finals, given the percussive nature of one section, I broke a black key on the piano.  I scooped it off the keys and it kind of flew into the audience, but I played through to the end. There was then a considerable delay in the proceedings, as they needed to replace the piano for the next competitor. I didn’t win, but got a great story out of it.

I studied classical music until Grade 10 Royal Conservatory, and then when I started University I got interested in blues and developing my ear and improvisation.

I’m 56 now. I’ve played off and on my whole life, having periods where I’d play pretty well all day if I could.

How did hearing loss affect your music?

I started to lose my hearing in my twenties from a genetic disorder that affects the auditory nerve. I switched more to solo play, as it started to get harder to listen to and discriminate other instruments as I was playing. I may have given up a little too easy as well.

Music has three many dimensions: frequency, rhythm and dynamic level. When I received the cochlear implant five years ago, it became apparent that the CI couldn’t make fine discriminations between musical frequency or “pitch.” So a scale played with an error would sound the same as one played correctly.

How did you adapt?

To compensate, my mind would ‘cheat’ — that is, when I was well rested, playing a Chopin Nocturne would sound, to me, very much like I remembered it. The kinetics of playing and my memory were filling in the blanks. However, when I listened to a recording of that same piece I could hardly recognize it without all of the cues I had while performing.

This divide was frustrating, but something I got used to. Since my brain was giving me a ‘fake’ musical experience when I was playing, I resigned myself to thinking that: ‘for a CI user, music is more about playing than listening’.

And so what if my brain was cheating? During the time while playing, I was having a valuable musical experience.

hand with piano

In what other ways have you changed how you play music?

The cochlear implant enhanced the other two aspects of music for me. I found I was able to greatly improve my dynamic control, which is fundamental. My instrument is called a ‘piano-forte’ for a reason — that is, the instrument allows the performer to play in a range from the quietest of musical passages up to an earth-shattering crescendo.

As well, I started to work more on swing rhythms, a style I’d never been able to learn, and I found that I made progress where I couldn’t before.

What kind of instrument do you play now?

I’m lucky to have a Celviano Grand Digital Hybrid piano. This class of piano has the best of both worlds: weighted keys and actual hammers and strings, but also digital pickups to provide lots of flexibility. I can set the instrument to sound like a piano that Chopin would have played in the 1840s, with the acoustics sounding like the type of venue he’d play at.

How have you shared your music with others recently?

I’ve always liked teaching kids. My observation with kids is that although they create their own stories and draw their own pictures, they typically learn the piano by ‘reading’ what is there and not creating. So I like to encourage early improvisation, to introduce ‘play’ into learning.

I taught some blues basics to my nephews. I had them playing two to a piano, where one plays a walking 12-bar bass line and the other improvises. The improviser would start simply with just three notes and different rhythms. Then they would switch. I had them do some ‘call and response’ playing together — this makes piano fun.

What’s up now, and what’s next for you with music?

A few years ago I started lessons with David Story in Toronto. He took me through a once-around-the-kitchen with both classical (Bach, Beethoven, Satie, Debussy, Chopin, Mozart) and various jazz styles such as stride, boogie woogie, and blues. I learned new pieces such as “Tea for Two” by Art Tatum, “Chicago Breakdown” by Big Macco, assorted pieces by Teddy Wilson , Gershwin and more.

David surprised me when I first starting studying with him. He told me: ‘You’re playing too much with your fingers!’. This led me to evolve to a ‘full-body’ approach to playing piano, where my fingers did less work and the gravity and flow of wrists and arms played a more dominant role.

Also for me, with my recent CI hearing system, I want to focus on musical styles and improvisation that highlight rhythmic elements and dynamics over pitch.

This is a path I’d like to continue to explore after the virus abates and I’m back in Toronto with my piano.

As an alternative — I’ve been engaging in a kind of urban-monk lifestyle this year, a new way of living.  So I may try to engage the piano in a different way — perhaps as an aesthetic monk-like practice. Some people who watched me play piano used to comment that they couldn’t see my fingers move, as they were moving so fast. What about not being able to see my fingers move as they are moving too slow? I’d like to dabble a little in those aesthetic, mystic questions.

 

Facing the music

As I relearned how to hear human speech through the combo of a cochlear implant and conventional hearing aid, the ability to hear music was also slowly coming back.  Especially with familiar music, my brain could bridge my memories of how music should sound, with the reality of my new sonic inputs.

hearing and music image

In speaking to some friends who had also gone through the cochlear implant (CI) journey, I knew that ability to appreciate music varied wildly.

John, a management consultant, had learned how to play piano in a new way after he received his CI, relying on sound as well as touch, intuition, kinetics and sight. John also placed more focus on rhythm and dynamics, since the ability to distinguish pitch was sometimes difficult. This reminded me of Scots percussionist Evelyn Glennie, who is deaf and uses multiple senses to perceive music and perform at an international level.

Shelly, a retiree, was starting to enjoy live classical performances again after many years of not attending due to hearing trouble. Suzanne, a health researcher, was still struggling with how bad music often sounded.

“Music is a much larger part of our life than anyone realizes, until they lose the ability to hear it,” Suzanne* told me. She switched from a direct-care role to research after her hearing loss caused increasing difficulty in communicating with patients. She had a cochlear implant (CI) several years ago.

Music language and loss

“Music is a universal language — it can affect your mood, your emotions, your overall well being,” she said. “I cannot express the enormity of losing music.”

Her cochlear implant assists with speech but listening to music can feel unbearable. Occasionally, Suzanne enjoys a music memory, replaying a song in her mind from her youth, from the time when her older sister had all the Beatles’ albums.

Neil Hockley, an Audiologist in hearing aid development at Swiss-based Bernafon, said: “the real key to music and CI/hearing aids is that while there are guidelines to help, there are no rules. So it is really important that clinicians work with their clients to find out what sounds best.”

Conveniently for me, audiologist Neil is married to my cousin Jennifer. She also works at Bernafon — a world leader in hearing technology — in its marketing department. At a family event some years ago, I noticed Neil in my peripheral vision, to my left. I turned to that side and caught him peering at my left ear. Once he had had a good look, Neil declared: “Oh sorry, I’m always curious — I worked on the program for your hearing aid!”

Thanks Neil!

Perception is personal

On the question of music, Neil believes that “perception is incredibly personal. What works for one individual might not work for another, even it their favorite instrument is the same and their hearing loss is the same.” He notes that human speech patterns fall into a more defined band, while music patterns have a wider sonic range and much greater segments of intensity.

In an interview with Live Sound, a magazine for sound engineers, Neil noted that noise reduction applications on hearing aids may help to understand speech but interfere with hearing music.

His audiology colleague in Toronto, Dr. Marshall Chasin, has worked to create special music-hearing options on hearing aids. These customize music hearing by disabling sound reduction and feedback reduction while also enhancing certain frequencies and sound directions. Dr. Chasin has spearheaded the discussion of music in the hearing aid industry. Audiologists continue to investigate how digital hearing aids can better handle the intense inputs of music.

Medel

I went online to the website of Medel, the manufacturer of my cochlear implant, and learned a few encouraging things about CIs and music:

— Young children with cochlear implants have huge potential to play and enjoy music as they learn the new hearing pattern

—  Some former musicians who regained lost hearing through a cochlear implant are now playing again, even though the sound they now hear is quite different; this is the case of my friend John, who has played piano since childhood

— It is important to actively engage with music in some way, to work at listening and/or playing, to engage with the different elements of music.

At Sunnybrook Hospital, where I received my CI surgery in 2017, I agreed to be the guinea pig in a new study in collaboration with the University of Toronto. It explores how the brain sorts out different musical sounds heard through a cochlear implant.

After researchers attached about 50 electrodes to my head, I listened to duets of two different instruments — such as guitar and a flute. My task was to focus in on one of the sounds, as they tried to map how my brain was responding. I was reasonably successful at isolating a single instrument, but I found it painful how bad the instruments sounded. With practice, would the music sound better? I came away disheartened. I could empathize with Suzanne’s comments about music feeling unbearable.

Ian with electrodes

Neil pointed me to the work of Scientist Charles Limb. Dr. Limb, who is also an ENT surgeon, has studied how the brain flexes to generate creativity in musical forms such as jazz and rap. You can find his fascinating lecture on TED Talks.

During creative musical expression, the brain’s energy is refocused. Certain parts of the brain are able to disassociate, allowing spontaneity and creativity.  Limb mentions the jazz tradition of “trading fours.” This is meaningful to me because I used to get a chance to improvise on the drums on four-bar segments while playing with Barry Cartwright’s jazz band.

Creativity in “trading fours”

Likewise, when I was a percussion student, my teacher Glenn Price and I would trade fours on two drum sets, face to face. One of us would keep a structured beat while the other improvised, then we would switch. The improvised segments involved a different mindset than keeping the beat. Improvisation required fluidity, and an ability to respond creatively to another musician’s improvised theme. Finally, trading fours fostered inspiration to create and develop a musical theme.

My thinking on how to relearn musical appreciation and performance was moving in a new direction. I had been focused on what I called a holy trinity — consisting of two quite different sonic inputs (hearing aid and CI) plus my memory. My brain blended the three.

As I learned more from friends, and experts, I felt I had to add three key factors: 1) music engagement, 2) creativity and 3) the use of multiple senses.

I was facing the music: my holy trinity of hearing had become a holy sextet.

************************

For more info:

Interview with Neil Hockley and Marshall Chasin in Live Sound:

http://digital.livesoundint.com/publication/?m=24712&i=548311&p=26

Dr. Marshall Chasin website: http://marshallchasinassociates.ca/

Dr. Charles Limb TedTalk:

 

*Suzanne asked to be anonymous for this article — her name is changed.