“Mistakes and miss takes”

This is for Matt, fan of The Jezabels and all-around nice guy, who challenged me to pick up on something at the start of ‘Hurt me’. Is there or is there not a weird stroke in there, and if so is it intentional?

The first sound I hear from the drumkit is a kind of scrape, either the hi-hat getting into position or a stick brushing against a drum head as it’s being picked up. Add that to the off-beat opening rhythm, and yes there is a sort of suggestion of a faltering step.

Is it intentional? All I can say is even if it throws you out by a fraction, I don’t think it hurts the song. You get the same sense of almost-faltering later on, coming out of the confident, filled out rhythm in the chorus into a sparser and more uneven beat. It’s very effective. Reminds me of coming out of a party that has become too overwhelming, and stumbling distractedly down the stairs outside.

But this got me thinking about the value of mistakes and glitches. Artists of all kinds include deliberate mistakes in their work, and for all kinds of reasons. Islamic artists included imperfections as a way of affirming that only Allah is perfect. Navajos included a point of imperfection in a woven rug as a doorway to let spirits move in and out.

Imperfections have their place in music too. Interpretation is all about connecting with the human element, which is why sometimes it’s a disadvantage to be far too clinical and perfect. (No, this does not mean stop practicing.)

A classic example is ‘Discipline’ by Nine Inch Nails. There’s a false start at the beginning that sounds ridiculous, but according to Trent Reznor the song seemed somehow lacking when they took it out. Leaving it in was a stroke of genius; it’s the main reason I listen to that track. And considering the song’s theme, it’s pretty appropriate.

So do mistakes, deliberate or otherwise, make music more human or more divine? Possibly. If they’re done just right.

“Picture this”  - part one

Drums and percussion aren’t restricted to an interpretive role. They are just as capable of evoking descriptive images, painting a clear picture of specific story elements.

Played just right, a cymbal sends ripples spreading outwards from oars dipped in a still lake. Mallets can turn a floor tom into a brewing storm. A drum kit can create a slammed door, a sibilant hiss, a manic crowd or a pounding heart, single raindrops or stampeding hooves. When you think about it, every sound we ever hear comes from a drum, because that’s how our ears work. Our built-in tympanic membranes receive every note we hear, with invisible waves of sound as the drummer.

“Picture this”  - part two (click to see part one)

Descriptive drumming:

‘Hounds of love’ by Kate Bush. Perfect description of the hunt - the rhythm of galloping horses, the hint of distant thunder, the wild chase and the open fields.

‘Aint gonna rain anymore’ by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. St Nick does not work with substandard musicians. The drums may not be the focus in his music but they speak just as distinctly as he does. Nick Cave always writes of water: its somber tones, its implacable strength, the way it surges and flows, pulling you along with it. And especially, the rain. Thomas Wydler is the only drummer I know who can truly do it justice.

‘Ballet’ by Tara Simmons. For me this paints a detailed picture: a girl opening a jewellery box in her old bedroom and watching the clockwork ballerina turn around, superimposed over memories of graceful dancing as her grownup self. Intimate and original musical vignettes, just like everything Tara does.

‘Lumps of lead’ by Hunters & Collectors. Sounds exactly like lumps of lead, each one weighing you down and making it harder to carry on. Doug Falconer probably doesn’t appear on too many top drummers lists, but when it comes to creating vivid imagery and atmosphere he’s right up there.

‘Magic Johnston’ by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Basketballs hitting the court, left, right and centre.

‘Triad’ by Tool. DC once said he’d prefer listeners to visualise wild animals than dissect the rhythmic structure. Made me feel better about referring to their songs by species instead of time signatures. You really can hear the hoofbeats and almost taste the flying dust they kick up. This magnificent track sounds like a wildebeest herd in endless flowing motion, occasionally joined by the footfalls of other, stranger beasts.

‘16 shells from a 30 ought 6’ by Tom Waits. There’s ordinary blues, there’s hard-time blues, and then there’s Tom Waits kind of blues. The kind that works long hours at the factory, sweat and dirt in its eyes, with the injustices of the world pounding into it, over and over, like hammers driving into an anvil. The kind that keeps eyeing the gun over the mantelpiece. Stephen Hodges’ sharp outlines draw us a very clear picture.

 “Let me tell you a story”  - part one

Drums can say anything, whether the subject is boy meets girl, or time and relative dimension in space. But telling a story isn’t just interpreting a feeling, it’s showing how that feeling evolves and changes, over the length of a song or over an entire album. That means the drummer must be able to convey dramatic contrasts, while still preserving the musicality of the song.

Not everyone can do this. Sometimes the song’s mood changes but the drumming doesn’t. Theme albums in particular need the sound to vary among different tracks, to distinguish between the different concepts. Otherwise it’s like a theatrical performance where the set stays the same for every scene. If you can swap the drum parts between tracks without making much difference, then the drummer has failed to interpret the unique flavour of each track.

It also takes skill to give a clear sense of purpose and direction when telling a story, instead of just a bunch of random sounds. Dance routines have a similar issue - some are full of disjointed elements that appear to be made up on the spot and are impossible to connect with. You know the ones: ‘Oh he’s running over there. Now he’s running over here. What’s he waving for? Is that meant to symbolise trees? Now he’s running over there again. WTF?’

But there are other routines, ones that instantly connect and captivate. Ones with clarity and strength of purpose, that make you conjure up an entire movie in your head as you listen. If you read Aristotle or watch The Simpsons you’ll know drama contains 6 elements: plot, theme, character, language, rhythm and spectacle. All of these can be conveyed through drumming, even plot. Drumming has always played a central role in storytelling.

“Let me tell you a story”  - part two (click to see part one)

‘Grebfruit’ by Benny Greb. Benny Greb literally sees drumming as language, to the extent that he identifies rhythmic ‘words’ and ‘sentences’. Pretty unique idea. Check out his DVD ‘The language of drumming’ also.

‘Vows’ album by Kimbra. The album’s theme is commitment of all kinds and the myriad conflicts that go along with it. The percussion follows the changes in mood with imagination and wit, so you feel you’re living through many different experiences, good and bad. The sound of running feet in ‘Settle down’ is an especially nice touch. 

‘When acting as a particle’, and ‘When acting as a wave’, both by The Dillinger Escape Plan. If your ears are still bleeding from previous DEP tracks fear not. These are two exquisitely beautiful instrumentals, poetry for physics nerds. Another example of developing a theme over more than one song.

‘Paint pastel princess’ by Silverchair. This track is interesting because the drums are almost at odds with the vocals, telling their own version of the story. Although the lyrics sing of despair, the drums feel like the defiant rumblings of the spirit, pushing to the forefront and eventually triumphing.

‘The kill’ by 30 Seconds to Mars. It’s hard to put my finger on the reason for this track’s narrative eloquence. Some musicians are just natural storytellers, and this band particularly, with Jared Leto’s connection to cinema, have a strong emphasis on plot as well as atmosphere. The drum part is no exception; it provides tension, dynamics, even counterpoint dialogue to the vocals in some places. Even the production seems somehow cinematic.

(As an aside, I have no idea if this is intentional or not, but if you watch the full-length version of the ‘From Yesterday’ video followed by ‘The Kill’ video, they form two halves of a mind-blowing short film. There’s a bit in the second half that matches up with something in the first half and you’ll suddenly realise … but wait, that means … holy shit …)

‘Hooker with a Penis’ by Tool. The master of giving drums a voice of their own. With Tool it’s almost as though the drums are the vocals, the vocals are the guitar and the guitar is a series of weird special effects. (The bass is still the bass, although often it’s the bass drum.) This story begins with disconnected sparks of irritation, lashing out at random. Then slowly the focus narrows, and becomes a kind of prowling menace, seeking out the source of annoyance. The rhythmic patterns are so complex and organic that the energy unfolds like roiling turbulence rather than a series of mechanical strikes, so it feels just like an ungovernable rage. You can even hear the pummelling blows at the end.