The Possibilities Inherent in Percussion
What effervescence we create when we listen, to ourselves and to each other
Effervescent: (of a liquid) giving off bubbles; fizzy. Vivacious and enthusiastic.
Yesterday, at the men’s shelter in downtown Brooklyn where I go to drum and offer sound meditation, it was going well. We’d gathered a nice group of six or so residents, sitting on metal folding chairs in a circle in the space I’d carved out by moving one of the handful of plastic folding tables set up in the recreation/dining room. The drums were in the middle and behind me, on a table, laid out on various cloths I’ve collected from my travels, were the percussive instruments I use for my sound bath.
“These are all up for grabs for the jam session,” I tell them, gesturing at the array.
Under the flourescent lights, there were some familiar faces, folks I’ve worked with before, including three I’d gone with recently along with the art therapist to The Brooklyn Botanic Garden on a rainy afternoon. We’d shared a beautiful summer day amidst the exquisite plants and flowers, sitting together on a blanket under the protection of a massive tree while I played a handful of my most relaxing sounds; stopping to take in some air conditioning and some drinks in the fancy cafe; then jamming a bit, finding a rhythm together with the instruments, crowded together in a covered pergola.
There were also new faces, people who sat down and looked at me expectantly but with some trepidation. Sometimes I want to just say it out loud, what we’re all thinking:
“It’s weird, right? That I show up here with all my drums and percussion? That you live here? That I just squeezed into a ridiculously tight illegal parking space that’s really only for cops, in front of a women’s shelter, next door to which they’re putting up YET ANOTHER luxury high rise? The world is weird, and pretty fucked up, right?”
But I think they know that we’re all thinking these things, but have decided, like I have, to just shrug and go for it. We’re gonna try to do something a little different, something a little “weird,” cause why not? Is how we’re all feeling so great that we can’t mix it up a bit and try something new?
So there we were, having implicitly agreed upon the terms and conditions. It was a strange setting, my being there was a bit strange, but so be it. It’s a good place to begin, in agreement, especially for a drum circle.
I offer up little in the way of explanation before just diving right in.
“Ok, you set the beat…” I’ll say, pointing. I sometimes remember names but often not since I’m bad at remembering even my best of friends’ names on the spot, let alone a constantly-changing cast of characters.
In this case, I knew the gentleman’s name and said it, repeatedly, as he sometimes gets lost in thought, talking to himself in Russian, and forgets to begin to play. But then he did play, the kalimba, plucking at the metal tines with his thumbs in such a lovely lilting repetitive fashion so that finding a beat underneath it on my little djembe was easy. And everyone joined in. In their own way, with whatever instrument they’d chosen.
The one thing I often say before we start is, “The only directive I have is listen, cause if we don’t listen to each other…well…we’ll sound really bad!”
And so, yesterday, they listened, to me, to each other, to themselves. I know they were listening, because we sounded BEAUTIFUL!
My heart hurts in these moments. Maybe it’s because we’re playing what in Vedic or Tibetan tradition are the notes that move the heart chakra (the F and D respectively, if you’re curious). Maybe. Or maybe it’s because a group of people actually listening to one another, and hence making beautiful music together is just the most soul-satisfying thing I can ever imagine.
I know when everyone is totally tuned in because I shift my own drumming or percussing a bit, I get increasingly louder or softer or just more insistent, and everyone feels it, and they adjust accordingly. And then, just as if I’m a conductor on the stage at Carnegie Hall, I hit a final note and…everyone stops. Together, in unison, we come to a final conclusion. Finit. Bravo! Bravissimo! I always clap.
Yesterday, the simultaneous clean finish happened after almost every jam. For an hour and a half, people took turns setting a beat, everyone playing on different instruments every time, exploring, and we created some absolutely transfixing rhythms.
When someone expressed reservations about setting a beat, suggesting they were worried they couldn’t hold the rhythm for others to join, I laughed.
“I switch it up all the time when I’m leading, no worries,” I said. And Samm, the art therapist nodded and concurred: “She really does.”
Afterward, after setting a cool slightly-shifting finger-tapping rhythm, they were happy. “I didn’t need to be afraid after all,” they said.
At one point, unable to contain my words, I gushed about how awesome it felt, to be making music together.
“Doesn’t it feel GREAT!?!” I said, smiling wide. It was a bit leading, but it’s how I felt, and wanted corroboration. I got some, and we chatted a bit about why, about how it can be SO, so nice to let out emotions through music, something Pythagoras figured out back in 550 BC with his “soul adjustments.”
We chatted a little about old Pythagoras and his theorems. I bring it up not to give a history lesson but just to say that it’s an ancient practice, utilized in cultures since the dawn of time, to use sound to feel into our feelings. There’s so much more to be said on this subject.
“Let’s try something,” I suggested. “Let’s throw out a feeling, an emotion, and play to that.” It’s something I used to do with kids in schools, something I’d done when I first started in the shelter, but it had been a while.
Without skipping a beat, a new resident piped up: “Effervescent…” they said.
I laughed. “Awesome. Ok. Let’s effervesce…”
And you know what? We absolutely did. Each of us played our heart out, we listened to other people’s hearts, and we found a rhythm together. We were vivacious enthusiasm incarnate, us, this random assortment of humans thrown together for an afternoon jam.
When we ended, in synch, another new resident/new participant smiled.
“I feel fizzy,” he said. And we all laughed.
We jammed again, this time to the idea of “Earth.” It sounded slightly erratic and wild, and yet also grounded. It sounded like the Earth itself, in all its crazy confusing chaos, in all its weirdness, its ugliness and its beauty.
Us Earthlings, stopping to listen and play together, is a powerful, wonderful thing.
Thank you for reading! With this post, I have morphed this newsletter into something a little different. While music and sound will play a large role, I am walking away from the weekly calendar and posts almost exclusively about music happenings and musicians:(
It is with some sadness, this shift, as I had a fantasy of finding you all next to me on bar stools watching amazing shows every night of the week. But REALITY set in after a bit, and I came to the conclusion that if people want to find live music in NYC, they can and will:) And also, not a small realization, I myself can’t go out every night! Certainly hit me up though if you should need a night out, cause I’m (almost) always game and can find a great show!!!
I will definitely still write about artists and shows that command my attention, and musicians I’d like to draw your attention to, but ListenUp will focus mainly on stories of how arts and culture and travel help us connect…to ourselves, to each other, to the Earth.
The Universe is speaking to us all the time, through the sun and the stars, and I want to zero in on those people who heed its call, those who work to listen and mimic back the beauty of it in a myriad of ways…hope you’ll stay tuned in!! Maybe you’ll like it so much that you’ll even become a PAID SUBSCRIBER, which would help me do more of the music making I do with CAMBA and others on a volunteer basis:)) Every little bit helps…
XX
In peace + harmony,
Steph