Noise Maker

I have a drum set in my bedroom. A basic kit -- two cymbals, a high-hat, first and second tam, floor tam, snare drum, and bass drum. I have never played drums in my life. I have begged and pleaded since childhood for a set (which was always on offer by both my parents and grandparents, but with the proviso that they could only be played in the other's house).

My high school was very small and we didn't have music offered as a subject, let alone have a band. There was a choir I could have joined, but after an unfortunate experience in elementary school (elementary school was full of unfortunate experiences, as was high school) the prospect was unappealing.

So when Scott was leaving Japan last summer, looking for some wiling fool to purchase his drum kit, I eagerly offered -- damn my neighbours!! And thus, I have a drum kit in my bedroom.

They have been there since late last August, and every so often I go through phases when I am quasi-dedicated and serious about learning to play them. This is one of those phases. I (and my neighbours) can blame my current dedication on having gone to a djembe lesson Saturday night.

The man teaching the lesson was from Guinea, and spoke French. The lesson was conducted in both French and Japanese, and through a half-assed slap-dash understanding of both languages I managed to grasp the gist of what he was saying.

The class was full of people who make up a djembe group in that city with only a few learners mixed in -- myself being one of the inept. The teacher, Yuul, would break down the patterns and we would attempt to follow; then he would speed it up and acquire accompaniment and I would be lost in the midst of tons, claques, and basses. One of the rhythm players in the background was grooving in time with her own beat. It was fantastic.

And in the mist of my inability to comprehend the beats, I revived my interest in playing the drums. The djembe and the drum kit are nothing alike, but I believe that should I learn one, I should be more able to play the rhythms of the other. I like my pie in the sky version of reality -- it makes my life so much more fulfilling.

Thus I am the resident noise maker in my neighbourhood, quite likely in my town. The rice fields are being flooded again and the cicadas and frogs are reappearing full force, bringing their nighttime choruses back to life. And when I finish practicing the drums each night, that is all I can hear. Perhaps they feel they are in competition with my tuneless racket, and feel a need to show me how it should be done. I am trying my best to keep pace, but I fear it will be a while. I hope they can hang around that long...