Two questions reach me almost every week. What do you play, and where can a person find one? Both have answers, and here they are.
Drums you can put your hands on
Every sound on my records began with an instrument that someone actually touched. Some of it is hide pulled over wood. Some is bronze a craftsman hammered by hand. A few of those sounds are nothing more than dried seeds loose inside a gourd. None of it came from a sample library, and none of it ever will.
Forty-five years behind a kit taught me one lesson worth repeating. The room counts for more than the name stamped on the bass drum. So does the floor underneath it, the skin you tune that morning, and the hands you bring to the gig. A modest set in a good room will sound better than an expensive one in a poor room, every night of the week.
I’m not against electronics. They have their place on certain records, and plenty of fine players build whole careers on them. My ear leans toward wood and skin. An acoustic instrument responds to weather, to the humidity in a hall, to how hard or soft I decide to strike it. I hear that response, and it tells me when I’m playing well. A loop tells me nothing.
What travels with me
My main kit stays in Charlotte. It mixes older shells with a few newer ones, in sizes I’ve trusted across a long stretch of years. For travel, I carry as little as I can. Most nights I’ll assemble something from whatever the room offers, and that practice taught me more about sound than years of reading ever did.
Here is what I reach for most.
- Acoustic drum sets, both vintage and current, in sizes chosen for the room rather than the photograph.
- Hand drums. Congas and bongos carry the Latin work. Frame drums like the bodhrán and the riq cover the older material. The djembe, the udu, and the Brazilian pandeiro fill in the rest.
- A cajón with brushes for the nights a room asks for almost no volume.
- The small things. Bells, shakers, claves, woodblocks, and triangles. Some players call it the toy box. For me it accounts for a good part of the work.
None of this arrived at once. It collected over decades, one instrument at a time, usually because a song called for a sound I didn’t yet own.
The drums I’m known for
People associate me with the kit, though the hand drums hold most of my curiosity. A conga gives a different tone every inch you move toward the rim. A frame drum changes character depending on how you hold it against your body. Nothing about them is fixed, and a player can study them for life.
When I run a workshop overseas, the hand drums come with me first. They cross borders without trouble, and audiences everywhere recognize them. A child in Chennai and a session player in Nashville will both respond to a well-tuned udu. The sound earns attention before I say a word.
If you’re starting out, one good conga or a single quality frame drum will teach you more than a closet full of cheap ones. Learn its whole range before you add the next piece. The toy box can wait.
Buying an instrument that will last
Before you spend a dollar, a few things are worth knowing.
On a first drum set, study the bearing edges before you look at the finish. Run a finger around the rim where the head meets the shell. A clean, even edge will hold a tune for years. A rough one will lose its tuning at every gig.
For a conga, press the center of the head and listen. You want a clear tone with some ring left in it. A dull, lifeless sound usually points to a tired head, or to a shell cracked somewhere you can’t see.
Frame drums reward patience. The cheap ones sound thin and stay that way. A well-built bodhrán or tar will carry a warmth you can hear from the back of a room, and the price difference is smaller than most beginners fear.
Buy used when the option exists. A name-brand kit keeps its sound for decades, and the first owner already absorbed the steepest part of the depreciation. Cymbals are the one exception. Those I’d rather purchase new, with the warranty intact.
One promise holds for everything on this page. I won’t point you toward an instrument I wouldn’t put on my own records. There is already enough middling gear in the world without my name attached to more of it.
Where to go next
The Tips and Tricks section collects what I’ve picked up on the road, from miking a full kit with a single microphone to a low-volume bass drum trick for quiet rooms. The Nature of Drumming page covers my double-disc DVD and CD. The store holds copies of everything if you’d like to take some of this home.
Write to me anytime. The drums have been good to me across a long career, and I’m always glad to pass a piece of that forward.