The Joy of Sticks

Sometimes going to band practice can feel like a chore. I’m not sure why because I really enjoy playing, and being among my friends. I can never quite put my finger on it but sometimes, when band rehearsal comes around, staying at home with a cup of tea and a book seems much more appealing. Perhaps it’s my age. Perhaps it’s having a stressful job. Perhaps I don’t enjoy band as much as I thought. Perhaps it’s a combination.

Due to circumstances beyond my control, the number of rehearsals I attend has decreased significantly recently but I continue to attend Salvation Army band practice once a fortnight which is preceded by songsters (choir). (As an aside I’ve never quite figured out how I came to be in the songsters - I never knowingly agreed to it and I possess a singing voice reminiscent of a truck load of air horns careening down a mountain).

It was at one of these SA band practices a few weeks ago however, that I stumbled upon a cure for my rehearsal lethargy. The drum kit.

Now, for clarity, I understand the basics of playing kit. When I was kid I had lessons, achieving Grade 1 snare drum and Grade 2 drum kit (I know right) and in my teens, was the drummer in a three piece rock band with some of my mates from school. We’d do the odd gig in quiet local pubs the singer's mum deemed ‘nice’, occasionally appeared at community events in parks, did one ‘battle of the bands’ at our school and recorded a solitary CD which was given as gifts to our nearest and dearest, and copies of which have been returned to me in the years since. We had a tiny group of fans who knew us (mostly, but not all, relatives) and I would often sport a trilby and play barefoot for reasons which I can’t remember. We were the absolute epitome of cool.

I wouldn't define myself as a percussionist though and have never put myself forwards for playing percussion in any of the brass bands, wind bands or orchestras I've been involved in. It’s a decade and half since I last read percussion music and my stick bag is as extensive as Jeremy Clarkson's infamous Top Gear toolkit. I've got brushes for quiet playing and sticks for loud playing.

I was surprised then, when for the first hymn the Bandmaster asked, very politely, if I wouldn’t mind putting down my instrument and playing kit as he needed to play cornet and wanted me to lead the band. No pressure. The kit hasn’t been played for ages and was dusty, wobbly and just not quite in the right place. I didn’t have time to adjust it though and it was with trepidation that I picked up the set of old battered sticks, that nobody seems to own, from the band cupboard. But, actually, it was like riding a bike. Except I didn’t fall off of the stool. Muscle memory kicked in and, despite a wobble or two, I was soon on my way and reliving the youthful thrill of being able to absolutely whack the brackets off a drum kit. Play quieter? I thought you said the band needed to hear me?

I ended up playing kit all evening and had the most fun at a practice I’ve had in ages. Perhaps it is true that change is as good as a rest and that, sometimes, trying something new can reignite your passion and creativity in ways you didn’t expect.