Bruford’s SOLO SPOTLIGHT No.2: NYC Solo #3: Matrix Studios, February 8, 1982
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This improvisation from 1982 is really a drum solo of its time. In the early 80s, the sound of those electronic pads was The Thing, and I was getting a lot of traction with them in King Crimson. Listening back now, more than 40 years later, only the most hardened nostalgist would want to return to the sound of those early analogue pads. There’s plenty of it on show here, so it‘s something of a relief when the heavy armament gives way to a acoustic 9/8 feel with some boobams at 5’19”.
Things improve further with some much-needed dynamic variation at 6’29” with the introduction of some less repetitive and much quieter snare drum work. Overall, I’d say the form of this solo is poor, presenting too much bluster for too long at the beginning, and some more intricate and dynamical work too late in the day. What do you think?
Most drummers will never play a solo. Some play the same solo night after night, while revolving and going upside down in a cage. For some performers it is the highlight of the evening; others dread it. I treated it as a space where I could lay out my cards on the table, where I tried to find something that fitted the mood of the music but that also said something about me and my particular approach to drums and drumming.
“I can hear you thinking” say some about my soloing. What do I think about? I’m sometimes described as ‘playing with intention’. Well, yes; I’m aware of big things at the macro level: how long has this been running? Where’s the shape or form? Have I offered any dynamic changes yet? If not better get on it. Answers are available, but only if you can remember what you’ve just played. Many suggest, and I would agree, that thinking about things at the micro level - the note, the phrase, the choice of instrument? It’s already too late. You should be running on instinct and experience rather than wrists, fingers and licks.
This kind of micro, moment-by-moment analysis is fatal, to be avoided at all costs. It ruins any enjoyment, fills you with panic, freezes the mind. The inner voice of doom carps, comments and criticizes: “what did you do that for?”; “missed a good chance there”; “I wouldn’t try that if I were you”; “that’s something Philly Jo played sixty years ago. S’matter with you!” However, keeping that voice out of your head is easier said than done.
In a way, performance is relatively relaxing after the close scrutiny of wrists, fingers and stick control in your practice room. The drum soloist is what she is at pm that evening, and there ain’t much she can do about it. We are what we are, with all the good bits and the not so good bits. Nowhere to hide. Generally, I enjoyed the challenge.
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