
D'DRUM
reviews
Special by Matt Weitz
Reprinted from the Dallas Morning News
A long-overlooked Dallas treasure reveals itself this week as percussion
ensemble D'Drum releases “Village Beside Time”, their debut
album, and celebrates with a free concert at the Dallas Museum of
Art.
With it, the group--made up of some of the finest and hardest-working
drummers on the local scene--has made an album of almost
overwhelming musicality, avoiding through sheer
devotion the pitfalls and tedium that mar many
such "drummer's delight" efforts. “Village
Beside Time” has plenty of rhythm, to be sure, but the music
on it also has a tonal quality (and appeal) that most solo drum work
lacks. This is accomplished through the use of exotic tunedpercussion
instruments--collected by group members on their trips to exotic,
beat-rich locales such as Africa and Bali--like the cimbalom and tingklik.
Western music fans won't get very far in D'Drum's world without
asking questions. A cimbalom is a Hungarian
instrument with over a hundred strings that's
played with sticks and sounds like a hammer dulcimer. A tingklik
is a Balinese instrument, perhaps best thought of as a small xylophone
that uses sections of bamboo to produce sound. They
range in size from a bird call no bigger than a finger to a bass drum
that stands over three feet high, but all instruments D'Drum plays
point to other cultures: glockenspiel, djembe, wind
chimes from Persia and a Buddhist "ocean
drum." One flavor, however, dominates the disc:
the delicately pointillistic music of Bali.
D'Drum leader Ron Snider, 52, formed the group in 1989 when he
acquired some African “ewe” drums, which come
in a set that requires five people to play.
Although the line-up was a bit fluid in the early days, it
soon settled down into its present form: Mr. Snider plus John Bryant,
48; Ed Smith, 47; Jamal Mohammed, 52, and Doug Howard,
also 52. The quintet has been getting together
weekly--more or less--ever since. Sharp-eyed
Dallas Symphony Orchestra fans may have noticed Mssrs. Snider
and Howard in the back row, where the latter man is principle percussionist
and the former, assistant. Mr. Mohammed is a local music fixture
and “doumbek” master who fronts the long-running musical discussion
Beledi. Mr. Bryant has worked on the road with acts like Ray Charles
and the Paul Winter Consort and at home is a producer and composer.
Mr. Smith has performed with John Cage and Johnny Mathis (unfortunately
not at the same time) and teaches at several area colleges.
Mr. Snider had long been a fan of Indonesian music, which he terms
"one of the world's great classical
musics." When the DSO gig played Singapore in
the early 90s, he was close enough to visit Bali. There, in the
course of multiple trips, he's studied under native masters and shipped
home crates of unusual and provocative percussion instruments. "It's
an extraordinarily complicated music," he says. "You can have
a 30-piece orchestra, and it's all
percussion--drums, bells, gongs--with the
exception of a flute or two."
Since his first trip, all of the other members of the troupe (except
Mr. Mohammed) have made the journey at least once. Mr.
Smith immersed himself in the culture so deeply that he ended up playing
at a native cremation ceremony, and event so
powerful that it left him in tears.
"I had come there as a student," he remembers, "and at
one point Raka Swastika [the Indonesian master who
has taught both Mr. Snider and Mr. Smith] asked me
if I'd play at the ceremony. To be accepted like that when
you basically come as an outsider was an amazing and emotional moment
... that really shows how music can build a bridge."
There have been complications: The the first “tingkliks” sent to
Dallas did not fare well. "It was too dry, compared
to Bali" Mr. Snider explains. "The
bamboo tubes--each “tingklik” has 14--would crack and split
until they'd literally explode." The solution
was to dip each bamboo tube in polyurethane and then reassemble
the instruments, an ordeal that left Mr. Snider's back patio covered
in polyurethane and drying bamboo. "It was a mess," he says.
What makes it worthwhile--all the work, expensive travel, and the
polyurethane parties-- is the joy of creation, the thrill
of being that close to an ineffable starting
point. That's the reason D'Drum was started in the
first place.
"We did not start this to play a lot, to make money or get
gigs," says Mr. Howard. "We did it for
our own growth and enjoyment, just five friends
exploring the world through percussion." That
sense of unforced creativity is apparent whenever the group gets together
to play-- unfortunately, only a handful of times a year. The voices
of exotic instruments blend with the easy interplay of friendly conversation;
themes emerge and retreat according to patterns as natural as
breathing.
Watching the players interact is also striking. When rockers
improvise, the often lock gazes, with each member
watching the other closely to see where the song
is going to go. While the members of D'Drum
certainly look at each other frequently, they also
go for surprisingly long stretches, steering by their fellows' music
alone--as if their musical apprehension was keen enough to eliminate
the need for so much eye work.
But there's another, more subtle difference. "Western audiences
are big on foot-tapping and hand-clapping,"
Mr. Bryant says. "In declaring where you want
things to go. In much of the music south and east of Europe, what's
important is how the parts interact. They tune their instruments to
each other, not some machine that tells them when they're ‘in tune.'
"In the West individuality is so important," he says.
"In much of the rest of the world, the group
is the thing, and they make their music without
metronomes or conductors or click tracks. They don't hold their songs
up to some theoretical ‘god' of meter or tuning. What sounds right
works."
Watching D'Drum perform or practice reveals some interesting relationships.
With their classical training, Mr.. Snider and Mr. Howard often
seem to anchor songs, while Mr. Mohammed improvises using the circle
of Middle Eastern hand drums that cluster around him. With their jazz
training, Mr. Bryant and Mr. Smith can move in between those two poles,
contributing as needed. At times, a decision about
‘what's needed' for a bit of music is decided on
the fly and with an unspoken agreement that suggests five people
so thoroughly in step with each other as to become a kind of group
mind, with ten hands.
"Don't make this sound too kooky," Mr. Snider says,
choosing his words carefully, "but when you
play a lot together, when you spend that much time
rhythmically in synch, it's like your brain wave patterns align, and
you can pick up on what other people are doing and even thinking. I
don't know how many times I've thought ‘what this needs
right here is this, and when I reach for it,
Doug's already got it in his hand and is holding
it out to me."
Although the purity of their approach has kept D'Drum a frustratingly
rare treat for area listeners, they have been slowly
raising their profile. Several years ago they
contributed to the National Geographic special “Lions
of Darkness” and can be heard on the popular PBS series
“Wishbone”. Many Dallasites first discovered
the group through the local “Deep in the Arts”
TV series profiling them that has run--and continues--on Channel
13 (KERA). The short episode-- which went on to win a regional Emmy--features
the group in the studio and in Bali, where Mr. Snider and Mr.
Smith can be seen performing in native dress.
Nothing helps you remember like something you can hold in your hand,
however, (that ol' Western mind at work again) but the
D'Drum CD has been one of the more discussed--and
least heard--music scene mysteries over the years. When
the ensemble was asked to perform at the prestigious Percussive Arts
Society International Convention in Dallas this November, D'Drum finally
had a compelling reason to put out “Village Beside Time”. "It
really helped light a fire under us," reports Mr. Mohammed.
"This convention is about the biggest thing
in the world of drumming, and we wanted to have
something that we could show our peers that they could take
with them--besides their memories."
Now music fans in and around Dallas can consider themselves equally
fortunate.
Matt Weitz is a Dallas free-lance writer.
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