Sandscript
When I was a child I was helping to lay the table for tea one day by carrying food from the kitchen. Idly but rhythmically I tapped the base of one jar of jam on the metal lid of another. Instead of thinking it would be a good idea to buy me a set of drums, my mother was annoyed that the bottom of the glass jar was broken and had to be thrown away.
I have always hankered after a drum, or better still a set of drums; at school, on the rare occasions when the pathetic collection of percussion instruments was brought out, I always ended up with the triangle.
Back in the kitchen, cooking dinner recently, listening to BBC Radio 3,on a programme about Benny Goodman, a complete recording of 'Sing, Sing, Sing' was played. My energy levels were immediately lifted, I felt like beating with the wooden spoon, not stirring.Originally a song written in 1936 by Louise Prima, it was covered as an instrumental most famously by Benny Goodman; the longest live recording, with impromptu solos, lasts 12 minutes 30 seconds - but it could never be too long. A great tune, but of course it is the drums and the drum solos that beat at its heart; it is still a must play for Swing bands today.
On a wet, windy night recently (what other sort have we had this winter?) Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra were playing at Bournemouth Pavilion. The last work was Ravel's Bolero, a piece best heard live. It lasts seventeen minutes without a tune. At the back of the orchestra we could see the side drummer, but not his hands. He starts faintly and alternates the same two lines of rhythm till the very end, the orchestra gradually joining in. By the time the music changes key and reaches its crescendo the drummers arms are raised wildly above his head and brought down with vigor. At the end, amidst the loud applause, the audience cheered him.
Humans throughout history have developed drums of every kind. Bhangra, originally Punjabi dance music for harvest and weddings, bursts into life with large two headed drums.
Why do we love a beat? Our hearts beat, but the rhythms we have evolved are far more complex. The Universe apparently pulsates with unseen radio waves, perhaps that is the answer.
I have always hankered after a drum, or better still a set of drums; at school, on the rare occasions when the pathetic collection of percussion instruments was brought out, I always ended up with the triangle.
Back in the kitchen, cooking dinner recently, listening to BBC Radio 3,on a programme about Benny Goodman, a complete recording of 'Sing, Sing, Sing' was played. My energy levels were immediately lifted, I felt like beating with the wooden spoon, not stirring.Originally a song written in 1936 by Louise Prima, it was covered as an instrumental most famously by Benny Goodman; the longest live recording, with impromptu solos, lasts 12 minutes 30 seconds - but it could never be too long. A great tune, but of course it is the drums and the drum solos that beat at its heart; it is still a must play for Swing bands today.
On a wet, windy night recently (what other sort have we had this winter?) Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra were playing at Bournemouth Pavilion. The last work was Ravel's Bolero, a piece best heard live. It lasts seventeen minutes without a tune. At the back of the orchestra we could see the side drummer, but not his hands. He starts faintly and alternates the same two lines of rhythm till the very end, the orchestra gradually joining in. By the time the music changes key and reaches its crescendo the drummers arms are raised wildly above his head and brought down with vigor. At the end, amidst the loud applause, the audience cheered him.
Humans throughout history have developed drums of every kind. Bhangra, originally Punjabi dance music for harvest and weddings, bursts into life with large two headed drums.
Why do we love a beat? Our hearts beat, but the rhythms we have evolved are far more complex. The Universe apparently pulsates with unseen radio waves, perhaps that is the answer.
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Sandscript
I like to write first drafts with pen and paper; at home, in busy cafes, in the garden, at our beach hut... even sitting in a sea front car park waiting for the rain to stop I get my note book out. We
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