History lesson: the first Remo practice pads

The very first plastic drumhead was introduced to the market by Marion "Chick" Evans in 1956. It revolutionized drum heads overnight, leading the drum industry away from calfskin heads into a new age. Belli followed up very shortly after that with heads from a space-age material called Mylar, which proved wildly successful. Remo's heads were branded “Weather King” because they were nearly impervious to changes in temperature and humidity.

Belli founded a company around the new technology and along with drum heads, he began producing practice pads to show off the potential of the new material. These two pads date from 1958 and 1961, respectively. (Remo’s web site has a neat little timeline where you can see changes in the company logo, dated by year. It’s helpful to collectors in dating historic Remo products.)

The earliest Mylar heads were a tiny bit thicker than the tunable ones that followed. Still very resonant, but not quite as floppy-flexible. Stapled into the wood frame and stuffed with some kind of muffling foam that literally disintegrated with age so that now, they are just annoyingly loud. It feels like Formica if Formica had more give to it.

By 1963, the pads would become tunable, with metal rims, tuning screws and replacement heads — perhaps an early foray into sustainability, though no one was using that word in 1965. The late 60s saw plastic rims replacing the metal rims. This version of the tunable pad was the very first drum pad I learned on as a kid. I played that pad from 5th grade through my second year of college and three replacement heads along the way. While numerous other pad designs have supplanted the Remo pad, that pad is still in production today and literally millions of kids are still getting their start in drumming on one of those. It holds a dear place in my memory, and in my pad collection.

#knowyourhistory 

#sharethetradition 

#practicepads

Should I write a book about practice pads?

A friend suggested I research and write a comprehensive book about the history of drum practice pads.

It's an intriguing idea, especially now that I'm retired and have time.

It's also a daunting idea, because of the amount and kind of research required for such a book to be "comprehensive."

The last time I researched and wrote anything as thoroughly was a college term paper about Percussion Instruments in the Ottoman Empire. The course was a graduate-level course in Ottoman history that the instructor invited me to take for undergraduate credit (to be applied towards my certificate in Middle East Studies). The grad students had to submit a 50-page paper and oral presentation at the end of the term; as an undergrad, my paper could be 25 pages. I was fascinated and signed up for the class. The paper could be on any topic related to the Ottoman Empire. Eventually, I decided to write about Ottoman period percussion instruments and their influences on Western music.

I had contacted the Percussive Arts Society for help with my research, and while the respondent couldn't offer anything concrete, he invited me to send him a copy of the paper when it was finished. I told him I'd send him a copy if I got an "A" on it.
I struggled with the finer points of research and documentation, and wrote a 25-page typed paper, for which I gave an oral presentation in class. My oral presentation included demonstrations of modern percussion instruments that took their designs and uses from their Ottoman precursors.
I got an "A-" and sent the guy at PAS a copy.

A month later, the same fellow contacted me and asked if I'd give permission for the paper to be included in an upcoming issue of the PAS journal Percussive Notes. I was surprised, but said yes.
Two months later, I received two copies of the printed journal in the mail. I gave one to my instructor as a thank-you.

My instructor informed me that my paper had been published in a peer review journal. I had no idea what that meant. His mildly jealous graduate assistant explained it to me: "You got a scholarly paper published in an academic journal. Other academics -- people with graduate degrees, university professors and the like -- who subscribe to that journal can read what you wrote and offer comments and reviews of it. Undergrads don't generally get their papers accepted by peer review journals!"
I hadn't known such a thing existed. I was amazed and even a little proud of myself.
My professor was so tickled that he tacked a photocopy of the published article to the bulletin board outside his office.

That was the first and last time I ever worked so hard on a research paper, with citations and footnotes and everything.
I don't think of myself as an academic.

But the idea of writing a whole book on a topic, and especially researching it all, somewhat terrifies me. Which is a good sign that it's worth considering.

I don't yet know how to proceed. I don't yet know if it makes sense to try and create a printed, physical book; who would buy such a thing in the age of computers and e-readers?

But I am pondering the idea seriously. Feel free to reach out and tell me what you think.

Future Vintage: Matoon practice pad

Chris Mattoon is based in the mid west and tours with a couple of different bands. A student of Bernard Purdie, he became interested in making drums and percussion accessories while still a student, and went on to create his own company of custom made drums.

For awhile, Chris made beautiful practice pads from machined aluminum and gum rubber. Small (3" in diameter) and very portable, they were meant to be used on a stand or a knee platform. For a short time, he made them out of both plain aluminum and also with custom drum wrap finishes. They were highly desirable by drummers and collectors, and in production for only a few years.

I recently acquired this one from Reverb, complete with a knee platform.

It took some time for me to warm up to it, but now I enjoy its portability and response. The small size forces me to work on accuracy, and I like that too.

These pads sold new in the mid 2010's for anywhere from $100 to 150. Today, they are rare and might sell for as much as $200 depending on finish and condition. I got mine for $75 because the gum rubber was starting to show a little yellowing and age, but it still plays nicely. I store it with another mini-pad on top of it to minimize the exposure to sunlight, which is a good idea for all gum rubber pads.

Chris no longer makes these pads, preferring to focus on teaching, touring and making custom drums by request.

DIY Project: homemade Moeller pad

Readers here will remember my first attempt at making a tilted wood practice pad, during the pandemic. It was a rough job, and the tilt was insane, but I learned a lot from the process. A friend named it the Hero Tilt pad.

Not long after finishing that project, I came across this photo of a pad made and used by Sanford “Gus” Moeller.

It was one of the most beautiful pads I’d ever seen, and I wanted to own it.

I also knew that wasn’t likely to happen. This one was either in the hands of Moeller’s descendants, or a collector, or maybe even a museum.

So if I wanted one, I’d have to make my own. The trouble was that I’m not an experienced woodworker. I own no power tools and I wasn’t prepared to lay out a ton of money on the project. So I made a deal with myself and decided that I’d take my time, do my best, and be willing to live with the results.

Part One: I got the wood slabs from a scrap pile at a construction site near my home. 

The cylindrical pieces came from chair crossbeams dumped by a restaurant when they replaced their broken chairs. Unable to get accurate measurements from a photo, I went “by the eye,” as they say. I drew lines for simple cuts with a hand saw, and after the pieces were cut I sanded them all by hand. I mostly wanted to sand down the sharp edges so they wouldn't snag on anything. Since I was working with scrap wood, hand tools and arthritic hands, I was prepared for my pad to be a bit more rough and ready than Moeller’s. 

Part Two: I roughed up the facing edges and used wood glue to attach the three main pieces together. I used a wood stool and bicycle toe straps as clamps to set everything overnight. When the glue dried, I went back and added a couple of wood screws for stability. Then, I added the small side struts with wood glue and let everything dry overnight.

I had thought of staining my pad like Moeller had, but my very rough scraps and glue spots would only be accentuated by stain or vernish. In the end I decided to just paint the wood. I opted for some Gloss Forest Green left over from when we painted our house three years ago. A couple of coats and it didn’t look half bad.

I wanted a name plate, but there wasn’t enough room to apply one where Moeller had placed his, so I mounted it on the side of the base. I made mine from scrap leather and used an art pen. I preserved it with a coat of clear nail polish and mounted it with tiny copper finishing nails.

Part Three: I applied a nonskid bottom using thin mousepad material. I’ve used this on other practice pads and it works well.

Part Four: Finally, I was ready to add the rubber playing surface on top. I marked off the size I wanted, dipped a sharp carpet knife in oil, and cut to desired size. After wiping the oil off, I scored the top of the wood and the bottom of the rubber, applied super glue gel, bound it up with bike toe straps and let dry outside.

Here’s the finished pad, and the original Moeller pad for comparison. It’s not perfect, but it’s solid and feels great to chop on. Considering my lack of woodworking tools and knowledge, I’m still pleased with how it turned out.

Two pads, one company: Ludwig aluminum practice pad

 #practicepadhistory

L to R: two pads, one company.

On the left, a WFL practice pad from the early 1950s.

On the right, a Ludwig practice pad from the mid to late 1950s, after William F. Ludwig Sr. was able to buy back his original company and name from Conn in 1955. 

Both made of die cast aluminum alloy, with gum rubber. The rubber feet on the bottom of the WFL pad don’t have suction cups. The feet on the Ludwig pad do. 

Both are designed to be used on a tabletop or on a stand (as noted by the receiving port and thumb screw). Some earlier WFL models did not include the port for a stand. 

There is a later version of this design with black rubber and a more modern Ludwig logo, made through the mid 1980s. The black rubber does not have the same response or feel as the tan gum rubber, but it’s not horrible.

The black rubber feet are notorious for falling off or cracking off with age. 

If you’re persistent, you may be able to find replacements through vintage drum dealers. 

The later versions of this pad (black rubber surface, modern Ludwig logo on a black decal) can be found online at various auction/sale sites, ranging for anywhere from $20 to $50 depending on condition.

(Stock photo) 

On value and usage

At the end of the day, a practice pad is a tool that allows the drummer to practice on a quieter surface, so as not to disturb the neighbors.

If this is the primary consideration, everything else fades in importance.

The pad’s construction, age, size and scarcity (real or perceived) matter far less in this context.

The value of a practice pad, then, is not in its design or construction, but in its use.

The pad that is pristine is a pad that hasn’t been properly valued. It hasn’t been used.

So today, I’m celebrating pads that have been valued through use.

A well-used pad is a pad whose owner has dedicated their time and effort to improving their drumming art.

A well-used pad holds drumming history on an individual, even intimate level. It contains the residue of every stroke played on it, and past a certain point, those strokes begin to have an effect on the appearance and feel of the pad.

I rejoice when I see a well-worn practice pad. It tells me its owner is devoted to excelling at drumming, and not distracted by externals, by ephemera. There’s sticks, and a practice surface, and the head, heart and hands. Period.

That feels like a beautiful thing to meditate on as I drum today.

May your drum meditations be as rewarding and precious.

Another look at Formaldehyde (found in MDF)

A few months ago, I took a peek under the hood to learn more about MDF, a popular material used in the bases of many mass-produced practice pads.

Last night, the PBS News Hour released a short article about Formaldehyde, a key element of MDF, and why we should all be concerned about Formaldehyde exposure, especially indoors.

I invite you to check it out here, and then consider whether your practice pad purchases (from Vc Firth, Zildjian, Vater, Evans and many other major drum companies) are increasing or reducing the harmful effects of Formaldehyde at home, work and school.

I don't plan to purchase any more pads or other drum equipment that includes MDF.

If you’re concerned, consider helping your students make their own pads from recycled, repurposed materials (like used wood and rubber sheeting) that won't emit off gases. Support companies which use more sustainable materials in their manufacturing processes. Also consider how far your practice pad had to travel to get into your hands, and think about sourcing pads that are made closer to home to reduce your carbon footprint too.