My younger son got a drum kit for Christmas. It didn’t come from Santa or anything, rather it’s a good second hand kit which is now set up in his bedroom. He’s been taking lessons for months and months – banging out practice rhythms on window boards and show boxes and biscuit tins. He may well make a good drummer someday.
Here’s the thing though.
I spent some time sitting playing with these drums, hearing the various components, tapping them and crashing them. This is all quite new to me and a bit intriguing too.. For the first time, I know where a particular drum sits in the kit, what it looks like and what it sounds like. In short, I got myself a modicum of first hand drum experience.
Here’s the thing though.
I spent some time sitting playing with these drums, hearing the various components, tapping them and crashing them. This is all quite new to me and a bit intriguing too.. For the first time, I know where a particular drum sits in the kit, what it looks like and what it sounds like. In short, I got myself a modicum of first hand drum experience.
Then something quite strange happened.
I went for a night-time walk the other evening, as I often do, and I brought my trusty old iPod along. I put on an album I got quite recently which I like a lot. It’s called ‘Becoming a Jackal’ by Villagers. Then I walked and listened, listened and walked.
And this ‘listen’ of mine… it was all about the drums.
Suddenly, thanks to my little investment of time with an actual drum kit, the drums on this album came alive for me in a way I have never experienced before. I could identify which drum was being played, I could picture where it was in the set – I could almost feel the skin vibrate as if I was playing it myself.
This got me thinking.
How much greater an experience, the music must be, for someone who understands the ways and the nuances of the instruments therein. I 'tasted' a drum for a few minutes and the music seemed to go up to an entirely different level. You guys who work with music and play music all the time – are you really on a different level of sensual appreciation than the rest of us? I am now starting to believe that you really are.
If this is true, then I probably must also revise my long-held views of highly prized TV Chefs generally as being nothing more than Bluffers and Eejits. Perhaps this newest personal discovery of mine applies to them too. Perhaps years of learning the ways of the ingredients has indeed given them the ability to savour their wares in a manner far beyond my understanding. Perhaps I should spent some time with a sprig of Parsley to try and get at least some feeling for whether this is true.
And that brings me, as things so often do, to me.
What can I savour?
What specialist experience do I possess that means I am getting more enjoyment and depth from something than you might be?
In truth, I don’t think there is anything. A master chess player will appreciate the nuances of a great game in a way I never can. A fashion designer extraordinaire will relish the cut of a garment while I only stare helplessly on. A ballet dancer… well, you get the picture.
My 'things' tends to be words and humour but, let’s face it, everybody’s thing is words - and we all love a good laugh. I genuinely don’t think there are levels of humour appreciation in the same way as there are levels of appreciation of other things. It’s funny, it ain’t funny – that about covers it.
So here I am, I now see, confined to live in a world of practical sensory deprivation…
… I think I’ll go and hit the drums for a while.
