Drum Camp!

I already know that whatever I write in this entry will not do justice to describe how amazingly wonderful drum camp was for me. I've already thanked Janet for giving me this opportunity, but I couldn't quite say how thankful I was to her because I was still in such jaw-dropping, speechless, awe when we parted ways. There were so many wonderful and inspiring people there. The teachers were each masters in their own fields, and they had such powerful stories to tell. Some of them had to struggle so hard just to be able to earn the right to play drums, and some of them were never given the right to play, but they played anyway. Can you imagine how passionate they must be about playing if they had to go through so much humiliation and heartbreak and yet still continue to defy everyone--including their own teachers/mentors/classmates/parents/etc--just to do something they love? Amazing. You couldn't just sit there and not be moved or humbled. I feel like I've taken so much for granted. Any woman can just walk into a taiko class and someone will gladly hand her a pair of bachi and start teaching away, and you just never realize how other people had to struggle to be in the same position (not necessarily in taiko, but in other fields). These women broke down those walls and used the rubble to pave the road for the rest of us. And don't think that because they're not playing taiko that we aren't all connected, because we are, and there is so much to learn from each and every one of them and it's so good to know that there are tons of us out there.

The camp was at a conference center in the Marin Headlands, which is probably one of the most beautiful places in the Bay Area. It sits on some bluffs overlooking stark coastline, and is also in a crazy microclimate, because while we were enjoying comfortable sunny days and cool nights, the rest of the state was absolutely sweltering in a horrible heat wave, and we were like, what heat wave? Check out the view:


Janet is a wonderful teacher, and it was so much fun being her assistant. If you ever have the chance, take a class with her. She is so patient and inspiring and makes you feel good about playing. Very important. Anyhow, we taught really basic beginning stuff, and the thing that I discovered after seeing all different styles of drumming, is that people don't move a whole lot. I think that's why other types of drumming can be so complex and intricate--because they can just sit or stand there and concentrate on what they're playing. But us taiko players? No way. We had them integrating movement with the rhythms. It was a challenge but they were up to it and they did good, and with good taiko spirit.

But one of the real joys of this was being able to take other classes. There were so many different styles to choose from and it was hard to only choose 3. The first class I took was from Carolyn Brandy, a long-time percussionist and one of the organizers of the event, and whom, I was told, is probably responible for bringing drumming to 80% of the women who are out there drumming today. And she is an awesome teacher. The class I took was about the very basics of rhythm. You know how I always struggle with timing and understanding what it means when someone says downbeat or upbeat or where's the one? or whatever? Well, she broke it all down for us and explained some very basic concepts. And she explained this stepping thing that Janet does when she is trying to figure out a song, and which I never really understood, but it finally got explained to me, and I even applied it to learning another song in a different workshop, so it was totally worth it. I'll never walk the same--there will always be music in my step. The second workshop was with an amazing dumbek player named Susu. I've never played the dumbek before, but I was starting to like the sound I was getting out of it, and was even more impressed with the sounds she was getting out of it, and now I'm kind of curious about persuing it--but in the future. And the third class was from a player named Michaelle. Someday when I grow up I want to be Michaelle. She can play everything. And she can play everything fast and accurately and with great spirit. She was riffing on her drum and her hands were moving up and down, but her sticks were playing 4 times as fast. Amazing. Have I worn out the word amazing yet? You'd think as a creative writer I'd have better adjectives--but no. In Michaelle's class we were working on some Brazillian Samba rythms that were hard to work out, but the stepping thing helped. Isn't that cool? Full circle.

Oh, and our performance. That was the hard part for me. We were the closers, and closing after following a full night of phenomenal players just put my stomach in all kinds of knots. These people know their beats and timing and they know how to put on a good show, and they pulled out all their tricks and I was just sitting there the whole time, completely blown away, but at the same time, getting more and more nervous. My hands were shaking, and I held them up to Janet, and she said, Oh, don't start that now, and so I had to ground myself, and go to my taiko roots, and the one thing that kept me going was knowing that I love taiko, and the most important reason I play taiko is because it brings me such joy, and though I could never even shake a bachi at the talent that was being laid out before us, I know that I have a passion for playing those taiko drums, and that's not something I can hold back on, so I focused on that. I am a taiko player. I love taiko. And so that's what I had on stage. And when I play taiko, it is with my heart, and not fancy chops or any particular rhythmic talent or great moves, but right here at the center of me. It's my kiai-power. It's my love of the don and its deep resonance and the ka's that pop out and greet you like old friends, and all my taiko friends who have brought me this far, and every hour of practice, and every blister and every bachi that ever flew out of my hands, and the hours spent at work composing desk-solos and all the concerts I've ever been to, and all the concerts and gigs I've been a part of, and the ache in my legs as we stood there playing the same part over and over, and the hours spent arms up in the air playing odaiko, and all that drum-moving and hauling, and all those kind words of encouragement from everyone who ever taught me anything, and the kind words from those I taught, and the joy it brought me before we lost mom, and the joy I could still find even after we lost her, and especially Janet, who has brought me this far, and continues to give me hope and encouragement and who helps me to find myself, the soul of me, even though I don't tell her how much I appreciate it as much as I should or often enough. And even though I'm no great soloist, I played every beat. Set it. Played it. Nailed it. It was a good performance. The other drummers came up to us afterward and gave us such kind words, and it just made me happy. I'm still happy--about everything.

Ahhh. That's what it is. Just--AAAhhhhhhh.

And like I said, everything fit back into the cars, cause it always fits:

And we still had energy afterward to ham it up a bit with the fabulous practice-taikos:

And so if you can't make it to drum camp next year, try to make it to some other non-taiko drumming workshop. And if you're a woman, go meet and network with those other woman drummers because they are wonderful people, and your friends, and such great spirits in the rhythmic world.

Oh, I'm so happy. A happy camper.