By Jeremy D. Wells
Carter County Times
This past weekend I played bongos for Debbie Baker Harman’s performance of the Bill Laurance song, “Madeleine,” during the Olive Hill Center for Arts and Education’s new Arts Festival event.
She contacted me more than a month in advance – nearly two – to send me a link and ask if I’d be interested. After I gave it a listen, and agreed, she ordered the score. By the time it arrived I’d already been working on some rhythms. When she sent it over we both agreed it was pretty basic and straightforward, and that I’d probably use one or more of the rhythm patterns I’d been improvising over the recording instead.
But, when we had our first group practice, our first run through didn’t sound that good. It didn’t sound bad, but it just wasn’t clicking. Something wasn’t right. The patterns everyone was playing were at the right tempo, in the right time, but it sounded muddled. Or maybe, I thought, it was just me. Maybe I was losing the beat.
I’ve played percussion for a long time. I didn’t think I was losing the beat. I was sure my foot was tapping in time, and what I was playing fit within the pattern of Debbie’s keys.
I was sure of it.
But what sounded good when someone else was holding down the beat, in the recording, sounded muddy and halting without it.
For the second playthrough – just until I was sure I had the right rhythm – I decided to fall back on the rhythm as written on the page, a series of repeating eight and sixteenth notes.
And, it worked.
It was what the tune needed to drive it forward, and everything clicked into place. (A good thing, too, since we only had one group practice before the event.)
Settling in on the written groove wasn’t nearly as tedious as I thought it might be when I first looked over the sheet music either. I wasn’t doing fancy finger rolls, or anything else especially flashy, but I got into an almost meditative state as I played.
The rhythm itself was nearly automatic.
I was also able to focus more intently on things like dynamics and how where I hit the drumhead impacted the tone and pitch.
With the rhythm automatic, I could focus more on playing softer when Debbie did, to accentuate what she was doing instead of drowning it out. I could give things a more mellow tone when things quieted down, or move out to a sharper tone on the edge of the drum when the energy and volume ramped back up.
I thought playing the part as written would be uninteresting; for the song, but mostly for me.
However, it was anything but.
And, in looking back over the music after the performance, I realized I didn’t play it exactly as written after all. There were multiple measures of rests for the conga part (the part I played on bongo was written for the deeper conga drums) that I didn’t set out. Instead, I continued to clang on – like a little human metronome – so immersed was I in the groove.
In the end, I think we were all happy with the way it came out.
I’m sure if we continued to play, and practice, what we all play would change over time. We’d become comfortable enough in the tune, and with each other, to become a little more playful. A little more experimental.
But before we could do that, we would need to understand the tune. We would need to play what was written on the page. Or something really close to it.
I’d almost forgotten that. It was nice to be reminded of it this weekend.
