Vintage Corner: Remo tuneable practice pad, Part II

While researching this make and model of practice pad, I was also looking for an older version of the pad so I could get a better idea of its technical development.
I got lucky and obtained two within days of each other. They were made around the same time, in the early to mid 1960s (not long after its release by Remo).
The larger of the two pads measures 8” diameter and is constructed with a wood bed covered by a metal rim. Inside the wood bed is a foam muffler covered with a real, tunable Weather King drum head. Below all of this is a Masonite platform that is tilted slightly to give a simulation of the tilt most drummers used in the 1960s; before the advent of modern marching drum carriers, snare drums were carried on the march with a simple webbed cotton sling and a leg rest, which caused the drum to tilt. (This historic “tilt” is why snare drummers have been using what we call “traditional” grip for centuries. Only when drums could be carried perfectly horizontal could drummers begin utilizing “matched” grip comfortably. Oddly, while most drum lines carry drums nearly horizontally now, most use traditional grip, which can place extra strain on the left hand as it’s require to twist farther away to pull the stick from the drum head. But I digress.)

Photos below show the construction of the older, 8” Remo pad.





The other pad was a gift from a fellow drummer back East, who offered to give it to me if I paid for postage. It’s a smaller, 6” diameter pad, with a large Masonite platform designed to allow the snare to be placed on top of a 14” snare drum — a throwback to the rubber pads designed by Billy Gladstone over a decade earlier, which serve as a muffler for the drum while practicing. Since this pad is not especially low-volume, putting it on a drum won’t create quite the same muffled effect; but perhaps some drummers found this feature useful. The 14” Masonite disc was offered as an optional accessory, sold separately and screwing into the threaded hole originally designed to mount the smaller pad on a cymbal stand. My disc came with some damage incurred in shipping, so I fashioned a small “washer” from cardboard that allowed me to re-center the disc under the pad. The cardboard is just stiff enough without adding additional pressure to the fragile, 60-year-old Masonite disc.



Pay close attention to these photos, because there will be another part to this exploration that will show off what I believe was the precursor to the tuneable pad, you’ll be able to see the differences in design that may have led Remo to his idea of a tuneable pad. (No spoilers if you think you know where I’m going with this; I’m waiting to hear back from folks at Remo for verification.)

Below, you’ll find videos comparing the 1960s version of the pad with my plastic-topped pad from the 1970s. While the 1970s pad feels familiar, I find I actually like playing the 60s pad a little more. The sound and response feel "beefier" to me, and I don't think it's only about the size difference, but the materials used as well. My guess is that plastic got less expensive to manufacture with and that helped fuel the switch from a wood and metal base to an all-plastic one.




I think the Remo tuneable pad still has a place in the drum universe; For untold millions of drummers it has been the gateway to sa lifetime of drumming joy. It remains a well-built and very affordable choice for students, and the replaceable head makes it a longer-lasting choice too.
I hope you've enjoyed this little trip down the Remo drum pad "rabbit hole," and don't forget there will be a third chapter to this exploration.
Happy drumming!

Vintage Corner: Remo Tunable Practice Pad, PART I

In the fall of 1973, I moved with my family  to Concord, California. I was in fifth grade, and finally old enough to join the school band.
I went to the music teacher and asked about my options for learning an instrument.
After I explained that my parents could not afford to rent an instrument from the music store, and that whatever I chose would have to be on loan from the school district, the band director told me there weren’t many loaner instruments available.
It also had to be something I could get to and from school on my bicycle, because this was the era of latchkey kids and learning self-sufficiency. Ultimately, the only remaining choice that appealed to me was to learn to play the drum. A practice pad and sticks cost less than ten dollars, fit easily in my backpack and was quiet enough to practice anywhere. Plus, Karen Carpenter was a drummer long before she ever began singing, and she was one of my childhood idols. So that decided it.

I was presented with a copy of the Belwin Band Builder, a pair of 5A Ludwig drum sticks and a Remo tunable practice pad. With a 6-inch diameter plastic head, it looked like the top of a drum, and when you played it, it sort of sounded like a little drum; plus, the head was tunable and if you broke it you could buy replacements — the sort of thing that was sure to please my economy-minded mother.

I wore that first pad out by the time I got to high school, going through two replacement heads before I had cracked the plastic rim. I saved up my babysitting and paper route money and bought another, larger Remo pad in an 8-inch diameter size, which got me through high school. By then, I had gravitated to other styles of practice pad (including scrap rubber duct-taped to a wooden plank), and it was a long time before I bought another Remo tunable pad.

Fast forward to 2005. I was inspired to audition for a community wind ensemble, and needed to fill in my meager supply of drum sticks, mallets and other ephemera. I also needed a practice pad, so I went looking for something cheap — and found a “vintage” 6-inch Remo tunable pad in its original box, with the paperwork. It was being sold as a “collectible” and cost me almost twenty bucks. As it happened, that vintage drum pad purchase became the foundation of the practice pad collection I have today. I wound up hardly using it for regular practice because I had found other, more modern pads that I preferred. So it has mostly sat on a shelf in its little cardboard box.

The Remo tunable practice pad remains a stalwart, the pad you start a beginner with because it’s durable, still quite affordable — and easy to find used at garage sales for even less than I’d paid for my very first pad. The pad is still in production today and remains a best-seller, ideal for student drummers on a budget and anyone else looking for something that just works; though the current version is mostly plastic throughout and has no metal platform to provide a slight tilt, as my old pads had. There's even a version called Silent Stroke, with a mesh head for much quieter practice.

Here’s a few photos of the pad I bought used some fifteen years ago, and the paperwork that came with it. My pad dates from the mid to late 1970s, and utilizes both a “tilt” platform and a threaded hole for mounting on a cymbal stand.

A little instruction booklet that came with the pad

(Click on each page to get a larger photo)

A letter from Remo Belli and a quality pledge. Did these things once matter to customers?

When my interest in collecting pads and researching their history expanded,  I found photos of an older version of this pad, made with a metal rim.

My next quest would be to find an older version of the Remo tunable pad so I could make comparisons. Stay tuned for Part II of this exploration into a really cool corner of practice pad history, and happy drumming.

DIY practice pads (for kids and others on a budget)

Let's face it. Decent practice pads are not cheap. Even the RockJam pad, can run $20 or more with shipping. On top of that, a lot of stuff still ends up in the landfill when it doesn't have to, including scrap wood.

So after a great conversation about DIY practice pads for those on a tight budget, here's a simple way to make your own practice pad from repurposed wood planks (cut to size if necessary) and gum rubber.

Gum rubber, available in 12" x 24” sheets from Grainger Industrial on eBay. I use heavy-duty industrial scissors to trim to size. Make the rubber at least 1/2" to 1" smaller than the wood platform all the way around. Make sure both surface are clean and dry. (Depending on the wood surface, you may wish to sand it lightly for better adhesion.) If you want to make several drum pads, you might want to divide the 12x24" sheet into equal sections of 6" or 8" square so you can get more pads out of the gum rubber; it's not necessary to have a 12" practice pad if you're just working on rudiments or chopping out a part, and making a 6" square pad on an 8" or 9" square wood platform is a cost-effective way of getting more perfectly good pads from one sheet of rubber.

Working in a well-ventilated area (like an open garage), apply a thin line of super glue gel in a spiral, starting in the center and working outward in a spiral (each line about 1/4" apart from the next) to about 1/4" from the edge of the rubber, then carefully place the rubber panel glue-side down on the wood platform and weight down (with heavy books or other practice pads) and let dry overnight.

On the reverse side, you can use pieces of an old thin gaming mat -- glue them with the rubber side showing -- to give the pad a non-skid surface. Glue down and weight down the same way and let dry overnight.

1/4” thick is perfect for chopping rudiments. 1/8" thick may be preferable for those who play Kevlar-headed drums.

Here’s the very first one I made. It travels well and fits in my book bag; when I've toured as a singer-songwriter, this is the pad I've taken with me on the road.

Those with young drum lines may want to buy larger sheets of gum rubber and turn this into a DIY project for your drum line. Repurposed wood gets saved from the landfill and you can use it as a team-bonding activity. Just be sure to do this in a well-ventilated place (like a large garage with the door up, or a park bench).

Vintage Corner: Slingerland Deluxe Practice Pad #958, circa 1960's

Here's a really nice vintage pad from the early 1960's or so, from Slingerland. The Deluxed Pad # 958 could be used on a tabletop, or fitted with screws for attachment to a dedicated stand (very much like my older Radio Kind model from the late 40's which I acquired with a stand).

  This pad came to me without a stand, but with the little rubber "feet" intact.

The playing surface is lively and has plenty of rebound.
And the solid oak plank construction has a pretty nice finish, too.

It's just slightly smaller in size than my Radio King, but sounds terrific and, with thicker and livelier rubber, feels better.

Note: When demonstrating older pads, I try to use a stick size more appropriate to the pad's period. While I practice daily with my Jeff Queens (my go-to rudimental/marching stick), I don't want to destroy an old pad! Here, I opt for a smaller stick and get a great feel and sound. On a vintage pad that's sturdy enough for more regular use, I might go as large as a 1S stick if the pad warrants it; but most of the time I'm content with a 2B concert stick.
Happy drumming.

An old dream, renewed with fresh energy: NARD

When I was a freshman in high school, I learned about the National Association of Rudimental Drummers, an organization devoted to promoting and recognizing education and excellence in rudimental drumming. It sounded totally geeky and cool. I decided to make it a goal.
I spent weeks practicing the first thirteen rudiments (slow-to-fast-to-slow again) and preparing a solo from the NARD Solo book ("Modern Syncopation," which remains a favorite today).

Unable to find a NARD member who lived close enough to me for an in-person audition, I arranged to do a a cassette audition, recorded and proctored by my band director. After weeks of practice and four attempts at a quality recording, we sent off the best tape, a completed membership application and a letter of provenance from Mr. Bish to the address on the membership application in late October 1977.
(Below: A blank application, just like the one I filled out)

And then I waited.
I waited so long that I feared my packet had gotten lost in the mail.
Almost a year later, I got back a thin envelope. I figured it was a rejection letter.

Instead, it was a letter informing me that NARD had been formally dissolved as of December 1977, and the former secretary was writing to offer his thanks for a “very good” audition tape, encouragement to keep drumming, and regret that there was no longer an organization to admit me into.

I was disappointed, and encouraged. If NARD had still existed, I would’ve been admitted.

(This was not the kind of encouragement I got from my nightclub musician father, who felt that rudimental drumming was a waste of time. He wanted me to become a jazz drummer or, better still,  a symphonic percussionist. I didn't want a career in performance, but in music education. He didn't really get it at the time, though in later years he would warm to it.)

In this letter, I was told by an experienced drummer that I was good and that I should keep drumming -- exactly the encouragement I longed for.
So I did.

Now, over forty years later, NARD exists again to encourage today’s drummers in the pursuit of musical excellence and beauty.

While talking about our shared geeky love of drum practice pads and rudimental drumming, I told my story to the president of the organization, Mark Beecher.
He'd seen some of my many drumming videos, and invited me to sign up as a member of NARD at long last. Today, my packet arrived in the mail, not so thin or small.



It’s not the same organization, and that's okay.
I’m not the same drummer.
And my reasons for wanting this have evolved as well.
I’m no longer interested in bragging rights — here in the lefty radical landscape of Portland, there's no point in bragging about ANYthing conected to military history — but instead I’m much more interested in the the musical and technical traditions of my chosen instrument, and in further democratizing drumming for anyone and everyone who wants to pursue it.
I’m humbled to be recognized by fellow drummers for my continued pursuit of the craft and love of rudimental drumming, and encouraged to keep rooting around this rabbit hole simply for the joy of it.

While COVID has stripped away, or muted, so many  of my other pieces of musical identity, it has given me time and space to return to MY musical roots and remember the joy. To remind myself that we don’t “work” our instruments, we PLAY them.

(From the NARD web site)
Mission Statement:

The purpose of the National Association of Rudimental Drummers is to protect and preserve a system of standardized rudiments as an anchor for all marching, concert and drum kit drumming.

As stated by Wm. F. Ludwig in the Spring 1936 issue of The Ludwig Drummer:

"It is the purpose, aim and object of the N.A.R.D. to standardize drum rudiments and to encourage their adoption by all earnest students of drums; also to dispel the erroneous idea that the rudiments are only for the drum corps drummer."

#playdrumseverday
#makemusic
#rudimentaldrumming
#diddleseveryday
#NARDdrummer

Restore? or Leave alone? When to meddle in the vintage stew

So when is it appropriate to leave a vintage pad alone simply because it’s vintage? And when is it appropriate to repair a vintage pad to make it playable again?
This is definitely a case-by-case situation. But I’d offer my own personal parameters as a starting point for discussion.

1. I’d consider repairing an old pad if:

— it looks like dozens of other pads of similar design;
—there’s no identifying logo, decal, badge or distinctive design element to set it apart;
— it’s identifiable as one of thousands manufactured;
— you didn’t pay much for it;
— it meets at least three of the above and someone would enjoy playing it.

2. I’d leave the pad alone if:

— it has a logo, badge or distinctive design element that sets it apart;
— it’s a long shot but you want to research it further;
— you paid more for it;
— repairing or otherwise altering it would diminish its historical and financial (because let’s be real) value;
— there’s nothing else like it in your collection;
— it’s a double you might use to trade later for something else (I try not to keep much on hand for this purpose as it clouds my reasons for collecting to begin with).

Below is an example of a pad I’ve decided to make playable again. It’s just like the three other pads I have that are in better shape and have intact decals or badges; it’s condition was poor/unplayable but repair would make it useful to someone; and it wouldn’t end up in a landfill.

I’ve removed the original rubber disc, which will serve as a pattern for its bouncier replacement after I clean the old glue out of the recessed area.
I covered the underside with repurposed gaming pad, rubber side showing as a non-skid surface.
(I’ll save the old disc as another non-skid surface for a future repair.)
And when it’s done, I’ll have a nice no-name practice pad to keep or re-home.

Vintage Corner: Slingerland drum UPDATE

 Last summer I was gifted with an old Slingerland marching snare drum that was in need of a lot of love in order to make playable again.
Because of the gouging and scartches in the wood, I decided to make it a player instead of attempting a museum-quality restoration.

Wth my eye surgeries, the High Holy Days and other details delaying the process, my brother-in-love showed me his progress on repairing the big crack in the snare-side hoop. I took pictures last night at his place. The hoop will need a few more days to dry and set up, and then he'll drill tiny holes and make dowels using bits of bicycle spoke I gave him.

Here's the plan: after the wood has thoroughly dried, Ron will leave the clamp in place and set it very carefully in his drill press, where he will drill 2 to 3 holes lengthwise, top to bottom of the hoop edges. Then he'll cut down some "dowels" made of bits of bicycle spoke (stainless steel), insert them in the holes, and perhaps add some kind of epoxy as he inserts them. (Since they're not wood, they won't expand so some kind of glue will be needed to hold them in place.)
When they're dry, the edges of the spoke bits can be carefully filed flush with the top and bottom of the hoop; or he can choose to cut them a little short so the ends will be counter-sunk and then he can fill with wood putty.
Either way, the idea is that these tiny dowels, stronger than the wood, will help keep the hoop in place and prevent further cracking. The hoops are maple, a very dense and brittle hardwood.
The tuning of this drum will NOT be super high-tension, so the hoop should be able to withstand the forces of tuning and maintain its shape for a long time to come.

Here's a couple of pictures of where things stand at present.

This weekend, I'll begin cleaning up the chrome hardware rods and hooks.
I hope to have this ready to play again before the New Year