Let it ride — decoding the Zildjian ping cymbal

Posted on July 20, 2020 by Ian Kinross

As I put together the old Rogers drum kit I had purchased off minivan dude at a Toronto storage locker facility, I had a close look at the ride cymbal and its stand.

My thoughts went back to the mid-70s, and the thrill of buying my first drum kit from the Long & McQuade music store. It was a beat-up, but solid, used Sonor kit with dark green sparkle wrap. The Turkish Zildian ride cymbal that came with it had a huge crack in it, running straight out from near the bell, and then zigzagging a bit parallel with the cymbal’s circular lines.

My drum teacher, Glenn Price, showed me a small hole that had been drilled into the cymbal in an attempt to stop the crack from spreading further. I couldn’t complain because I paid only $175 for a full kit of good quality, very well-used, drums and cymbals.

While the ride cymbal sounded fine, because of the crack I used it only for rhythm. But that is the raison d’etre of a ride cymbal — to let it ride with the rhythm.

In a rock song, for example, the drummer may beat a repetitive rhythm on the ride cymbal’s surface or bell — a key part of the rhythmic mix. So I stuck to the rhythm and was reluctant to crash the cymbal for fear of the crack spreading.

Pings, washes, crashes and moans

A ride cymbal is typically the widest and heaviest cymbal on the drum kit. Its sounds include the “ping” of the stick striking the cymbal, and the “wash” as the cymbal resonates with repeated strikes on its surface. For a hard percussive effect, you can strike the cymbal’s bell.

There is also the option to hit the cymbal from the side with force for a crash effect. Or to build up a heavy wash in the cymbal by using a roll on its edges with sticks, or its surface with soft mallets.

So many permutations, techniques and tools. With some effort you can get other cool orchestral sounds out of a ride cymbal, like a moaning “ooh” or “oh” sound from resonating the cymbal with a violin bow.

IMG_2446 Ian with cymbal

Using a violin bow to resonate the cymbal — from my days with the North York Percussion Ensemble.

The ride cymbal I got from minivan dude in a sketchy meeting at a storage locker is a 22-inch diameter “ping” ride made in the U.S. by the fabled Turkish-Armenian Avedis Zildjian cymbal company. It came with a solid Yamaha stand. I had a quick look online and found a few of these cymbals retailing used for several hundred bucks. Was my cymbal hot, or what?

A ping-style ride emphasizes the sound of the strike — this is especially important in loud volumes, like a rock concert. But the sound of this particular ride was a little too pingy for my liking. I was using plastic-tipped sticks so that probably sharpened the ping sound even further. I would try to dig out some wood-tipped sticks to see if that softened the ping a bit.

ping ride

And maybe the cochlear implant in my right ear was sharpening the ping sound. If I hit the cymbal hard, the force of the ping was very sharp. Maybe a low-tech solution like duct tape might dull it down a bit. I would experiment.

Feuding cymbals

The Zildjian ping ride cymbal now to my right, and the Sabian high-hats operated by my left foot, represented dueling sides of a family feud. After being passed over for the Zildjian company’s leadership, one brother struck out for Canada and established his own cymbal manufacturing company in New Brunswick: Sabian.

Meanwhile, Zildjian had centralized manufacturing in its biggest market, the U.S. With its special-recipe alchemy of copper, tin and other elements, Zildjian has manufactured fine cymbals for almost 400 years. Its product got a boost when Beatles drummer Ringo Starr played a kit with Zildjian cymbals on the Ed Sullivan show.

I hoped that the feuding would settle down and that my cymbals would cooperate when I started kicking the tires on my Rogers drum kit.

Rogers “Big R” drum kit — this is your apocalypse

Posted on July 14, 2020 by Ian Kinross

Once you search for “drums” on FB marketplace, it’s game over.

Each day, your feed now features tantalizing drum kits in all colours, shapes and sizes.

And the prices are right. As with acoustic pianos, there seems to be a buyer’s market for acoustic (non-electronic) drums. I think that’s because many drummers have opted for electronic drums, and unloaded their acoustic kits. Likewise, those who are learning drums may start with an electronic kit for its portability and good sound.

So there’s no shortage of nice acoustic drum kits out there, at very reasonable prices. The Japanese company Pearl, which also manufactured drums in other Asian locations, features prominently in the used drum market. Same with Tama. Occasionally, some of the older brands come on the market, from the golden age of U.S.-made drums — fabled names like Ludwig, Rogers and Slingerland.

As gorgeous kits flood your feed, you transform into some kind of drum-buying-obsessed zombie. And this is your apocalypse, buddy.

Dreams of maple

“Well what have we here this morning?” you muse to yourself as you stop scrolling and land on a post. “This looks like a fine shell pack of vintage Rogers drums.” You feign nonchalance, but you are kidding yourself.

The golden-brown shells and their chrome are set off against an orange backdrop for maximum marketing effect. “Shell-pack” means a bass drum, floor tom and two mounted toms, looking like they need a good thumping. And the price of $450 is chump change.

Of course, to pound these drums properly, you would need to add a snare drum, hi-hat, ride cymbal, crash cymbal, bass drum pedal, drummer’s throne, and perhaps a few more doodads.

With your better judgment now quite unhinged, you tap out a quick note to the seller: “Nice drums. Would you be able to do a package deal for a full kit?” You visualize having to fend off other suitors for this gorgeous vintage kit. You don’t want to sound too desperate, but you do try to get in there quickly.

The next morning, a reply: “Thanks for getting in touch. Yeah, I can do a package. I will throw in Zildjian ride and crash, Sabian hi-hat cymbals, Yamaha stands and bass pedal; you can choose from a Pearl or CB snare drum. Don’t have a stool but will give you a tuning key. I can do the full kit for $850.”

Be still your beating heart. The Sabian hats alone are worth a couple of hundred. The golden Rogers maple shells seem to gleam even brighter now in your imagination. You’re hooked.

“I’d like to see the kit if I could. Are these drums U.S.-made?”

Minivan bros

The seller gets back with details of a storage locker location in Toronto’s downtown west end. You meet there on a fine pre-covid summer day in 2019 and you both happen to be driving Dodge Grand Caravans, relics of the family minivan age. You are not quite bonding with seller dude, but have something in common. He is a younger guy, business-like, clean cut, in his 40s.

“I don’t know the provenance of this kit,” he tells you. “I played them a few times, they sound good. I got a locker of old drums I gotta move out, so I hope you like it.”

You meet up and he pops open the locker. The drums are stacked vertically and look very nice, with their multi-ply maple showing through clear heads. Minivan dude has sticks and proceeds to pick up and strike each of drum and cymbal. Thump. Thump. Ping. Etc. “We can’t set them up but you can get a feel for the sound.” With my new cochlear implant hearing system, combined with a conventional hearing aid in the other ear, they sound pretty nice to me.

You ask him again about the origin of the Rogers kit and he replies: “It’s 1980s for sure; I took it in a trade years ago and haven’t played it much.”

You get a funny feeling in your gut and google “Rogers maple drum kit”, trying not to look too worried, and you get all kinds of great images of Rogers drums.

Satisfied, you bargain the guy down to $800 and get a nice drum kit with good accessories. He helps you haul it to your minivan and the deal is done. Hook, line and sinker.

But your intuition was correct. In your desperate google search, you did miss the fine print. Like other traditional U.S. drum companies under pressure from new offshore competitors in the early ’80s, Rogers joined the game of producing some of its drums using cheap labour in Asia. This particular maple kit is made under the “Big R” Rogers brand label, but does not have the required “Made in U.S.A.” on its chrome nameplate. possibly built in Taiwan to Rogers’ specifications in late 70s or early 80s. Or built by a company called Island Music that had rights to produce the Rogers line for a few years in the mid to late 1980s. Rogers ceased production in the 1980s but its signature brand and new drum lines were relaunched in 2017.

Going offshore

So your new drums are offshore Rogers, a category sometimes scorned by Rogers enthusiasts. Minivan dude is some kind of drum-broker who can spin a good story for every kit in his storage locker. His ad and identity have now dissolved from the Marketplace website in a puff of electronic smoke. Damn his hide.

But you know what? Your drums sound nice. The shells are solid. Through the transparent drum skins, they look like five-ply wood, possibly maple. The cymbals are very good quality and crisp. The CB snare drum you chose has U.S.-made heads and a deep, rich sound, even though it too is a Taiwan special. The stands and pedals are good quality and operate well.

Rogers purists be damned. You have been out of the music mix for awhile and want to dust off your drum-set skills.

You will learn to love your Rogers Big-R offshore kit.

Putting the pedal to the metal

Posted on July 8, 2020 by Ian Kinross

The bass drum pedal is a thing of beauty. Mine is a Pearl model that uses a short chain, not unlike a bicycle chain, to turn a downward pedal motion into forward beater strikes.

The bass drum itself is sometimes called a “kick” drum but that term is misleading. The drummer uses his or her leg, ankle, heel and toe to activate a pedal whose beater strikes the bass drum head. No kicking allowed.

The Ludwig and Sonor drum companies came up with this innovation in the early 1900s.

The pedal has probably saved a lot of sore backs for drummers who may have had to carry the drum around previously, or put it on a stand and whack it.

Independence!

Most importantly, once you can strike the bass drum with your foot pedal, it frees up your other limbs to play drums, cymbals, cowbells, woodblocks, gongs and whatever other percussion doodads you have added to your kit. Including the hi-hat, which sports two cymbals also operated by a pedal.

The ability of your two feet and two hands to play jointly and separately is called “independence.” With practice, your brain hives off new areas dedicated to each limb. This allows the drummer to carry out a beat with one limb, for example, and improvise independently with another at the same time. Independence also helps if you are operating with less than four limbs. For example, Def Leppard drummer Rick Allen made a successful comeback with the band after losing his right arm in a car crash.

I bet the guy who invented the bass drum pedal never thought of independent limbs and a bigger brain. He probably just had a sore back.

Driving the beat and more…

As drummers developed virtuosity on single or double bass drum pedals, such as those in the heavy metal genre, this invention gave new meaning to the term: “put the pedal to the metal.” The bass drum really does drive the beat, and can deliver both sensitive and thundering musicality.

After a long drumming layoff, I was getting back into the game with my snare drum and some classic solos. I added the hi-hat to the mix, with its brilliant Sabian cymbals. Now it was time to unpack the bass drum from its case.

Rogers bass drum

It’s a 1980s-vintage Rogers drum, with a golden five-ply shell (of maple?) and an Evans batter head. The twisted story of this old drum and its kit would be told at a later date.

Two swivel-adjusted props keep the drum fixed while you play it. Without the props, the drum would slide forward. I like the Rogers props better than the Ludwig style as they give better directional traction.

The pitch of each head can be adjusted by tightening or loosening the lug screws. Some drummers muffle the batter head and may remove the non-batter head for a harder sound. This drum had a nice deep thump to it so I decided to leave it alone.

It’s good to remember that the modern bass drum is reasonably portable. I know for a fact that it will fit in the front seat of a 1971 blue VW Superbeetle, while the rest of the kit is stowed in the back seat.

“Hot” drumming

I was practicing drums again in my older daughter’s former bedroom during a summer heat wave. When she was not delivering front-line medical care, Nadine was sometimes in our younger daughter’s former room next door sewing masks during the lockdown. The air-conditioning did not reach the third floor so my practice sessions qualified as hot drumming.

I decided to illustrate the concept of independence. My plan was to use the bass drum and hi-hat beats to underscore the musicality of one of composer Anthony Cirone’s snare drum etudes.

Next door, the renovation crew had installed the roof and siding and were working inside, so there was no one but the birds and my spouse to hear as I put the pedal to the metal.

Rogers bass drum 2

Sarabande! It’s how we roll…

Posted on June 23, 2020 by Ian Kinross

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.

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.

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.

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.

Getting on my hi-hat

Posted on June 17, 2020 by Ian Kinross

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.

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!

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.

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.

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