DIY Project: refurbishing and improving a favorite practice pad

In 2023, I purchased a custom pad from Rudimental Control. When I got my pad, I was pleased with the appearance and the performance.

But I was also a little concerned about the potential for the pad eventually bottoming out with use and compression. The inner platform had a lower profile than subsequent versions and over time the metal hoop made contact with the wood outer platform, limiting my ability to achieve good tension.

After I purchased  a newer generation of a pad from the same company, with rounded edges and a taller profile, I knew that I would want to find a way to raise the profile on my first-generation pad. While Rudimental Control made the very kind offer of taking back my first generation pad for modification at no additional charge, I decided that I really wanted to make this a DIY project.

Since I don't own power tools, I knew I’d have to work entirely by hand. The plan as I envisioned it below was to slice the inner base horizontally, and add another layer of wood in between the two halves. I ordered a  13” diameter x 1/2” thick wood round from a guy on Etsy, and hoped it would arrive around the time the sawing was done.

I marked where I thought the line ought to be, a process made easier by following the edge between two layers of the ply. Then, I wrapped the edge of the outer base in several layers of shop towels and clamped that into my bench vise.

And I began to carefully saw through the center of the inner base. I began with a fine-toothed Japanese pull-saw, to take my time, maintain control and avoid damaging the wood too much.

Over time, I was able to switch to a standard (American-style) hand saw so I could make faster progress. It took several days of short sawing sessions, taking time and care and giving my hand a rest before resuming again in several hours or the next day. It took me about five days doing it this way, which made it easier on my hands and gave the Etsy order time to be shipped.

It was slow going, and I was fine with that.

Finally, a couple of days ago, I was able to separate the two halves. As I’d expected, there was some stray pieces of wood that came off on either side from the ply and the glue. I carefully chipped away the biggest pieces and sanded the rest reasonably flat on each side.

The Etsy order arrived early this morning. I sanded the edges slightly round, and roughed up the smooth sides of the new “slice” so the glue would adhere better. I knew that there would be gaps, but I wasn’t worried about those. Any small gaps would be filled in a little by the wood glue under compression, and any larger gaps could be filled in after that with some wood filler and sealed with more glue. I’m not a woodworker and don’t pretend to be; and as long as 90% of the wood was in contact with the first glueing and compression during drying, I wasn’t worried. 

Glueing, Part One: middle slice and bottom of inner base. Instructions said to keep clamped for 30 minutes. I let it sit for two hours while I went to grab some lunch with my sister.

Since I don’t have any fancy woodworking clamps, I applied wood glue, centered it carefully by hand and waited five minutes, then let go and set a wine case and a cinder block on top of it to weight it down. Using the wine case [empty] would spread the weight out over the surface of the base, and the cinder block would center the weight for a firm bond.

After lunch, I removed the cinder block and wine case, checked my work, and repeated the process with the top of the sawn base, glueing it to the “slice” and putting back the wine case and cinder block. I left this overnight.

Next step: applying filler to the biggest gaps between the middle and top sections and letting them dry. Knowing that there would be gaps around the outer edges of the layers, I saved all the sawdust, poured it into the gaps and chased it with Elmers Glue-All. When that stuff hardens, it’s a solid. 

Doing a quarter at a time and allowing gravity and drying to do the rest made a difference. Since Elmer’s has a relatively short drying time of a few hours, it took most of a day for this part of the process.

However, just to be on the safe side, I decided to let this application sit weighted down overnight and into the next morning.

When the Elmer’s had dried completely, I sanded it lightly and applied a clearcoat by hand to protect the edges and seal everything.

Then I was ready to reassemble with a new pinstripe head.

After I installed the new head, I let it sit for another half a day, in case any more glue might seep out. It did, and I carefully wiped it away.

Aaaand done. Pinstripe head didn’t make me happy so I swapped in an Emperor head and it’s *much* nicer now.

Arthritis hands post-lawn mowing, but I don’t care. I’m really happy with how this turned out.

And I’m honored that Rudimental Control included this pad in their custom gallery. It’s still a good-looking pad, I play it nearly every day and I would heartily recommend Rudimental Control pads to any drummer looking for a craft-made, serious practice tool.

And if you buy a Rudimental Control pad now, in 2026, rest assured that it will have rounded edges and a higher profile, so that it will never need to be modified in this way. 

Lesson? If you like a pad but want it to be even better, don’t be afraid to experiment and get your hands dirty. The worst thing that can happen is you might have to replace some parts. And you can do this with any well-built tunable practice pad (and, if you’re careful, some rubber-on-wood pads as well).

Product Review: Beetle Percussion Last Pad, Single-sided/concert

Early last year, I had an opportunity to put Beetle Percussion’s Last Pad through its paces. At the time, there was only a double-sided, marching focused version available. It was designed for modern marching drummers, able to take very high tension. You can read that review in two parts here, and here.

Eventually, after multiple experiments with that pad, I passed it along to a drummer with more experience playing modern, high-tension drums for further testing. Then, I turned my attention to other pads.

A few months back, I was offered the chance to try out the newer single-sided version of the Last Pad, designed for lower-tension concert and traditional marching practice. I readily agreed.

The single-sided Last Pad arrived this weekend, and I assembled it.

Beetle kindly sent the pad with two coated heads, one in single-ply Ambassador weight and the other in a heavier, two-ply Emperor weight. Since I already have a few pads with Ambassador heads on them for concert work, I chose to assemble this with the Emperor head.

The Last Pad comes with everything needed for assembly, including:

— Valchromat base, pre-drilled

— your choice of a lower-profile S-Hoop or a regular triple flange hoop

— all the necessary tuning bolts, nuts and washers

— a 14” insert consisting of 1/2” dense foam laid into a Valchromat base, designed to fit under the drumhead and on top of the primary pad base. You can order inserts made with recycled tire rubber if you wish, but the foam insert is necessary to make a lower-tension concert/traditional pad.

— a 14” head (not included in the base price, but you can buy one from Beetle for an extra charge or use one you already have)

You’ll need a standard drum key and a 5/16” open wrench. Beetle sells these as extras, too, if you don’t already have them.

The Valchromat primary base comes in multiple colors by request. My primary base is orange, and the insert (which is unseen once assembled) came in blue.

At left: the underside of the primary base, finished with foam discs for a nonskid experience on a tabletop.

Below: the top side of the primary base, inlaid with the same recycled tire rubber used on other Beetle pads.

The insert is inlaid with dense foam that, when placed under the drum head, provides a buttery feel that’s ideal for lower tings and coated heads.

Remembering my experience with the double-sided Last Pad and how the insert could wiggle slightly off-center, I put down a small rolled piece of clear tape between the primary base and the insert to keep it centered during tensioning. (Once it’s tensioned, the tape won’t affect the function of the assembled pad.)

The primary base comes pre-drilled to receive the tuning bolts, nuts and washers. I assume that two washers are used to provide greater strength and stability, with the larger washer going in first, followed by the smaller washer and then the nut. The holes of the washers have different inside diameters, so pay attention when assembling.

I took my time, using the overturned box as an assembly surface. Because everything came pre-drilled, assembly was very straightforward. However, you need to take your time and be patient because there are twelve nodes of contact. Tensioning and tuning properly will take longer, and you’ll want to make sure the insert doesn’t wiggle around while you put everything together. (The tape helps a lot with this.)

The holes are drilled to take counter-sunk washers on the bottom, and the elongated ovals make it easier to set up the tension bolts while you work your way around the pad. Once you assemble everything hand-tight, positioning each tuning bolt in or near the middle of the oval is straightforward.

After going around enough to ensure that nothing rattled anymore, I put the pad into a concert snare stand and began tuning more assertively. My concert stand of choice is a vintage Hamilton stand that is strong and heavy. The arms don’t line up with the cutouts in the primary base, but that’s not a problem here. A stand with three arms of equal length and distance will match up with the cutouts easily.

When it was all done, I tried it out. First, I used marching sticks:

Then, I turned to some concert sticks and tried some buzz rolls and a lighter touch:

Finally, I tried some brush strokes:

The foam insert definitely makes you put in a little more effort and thought to “pull” the strokes out of the head, just as you would when playing a traditionally-tensioned field drum or a snare from a drum kit.

That’s a feature of playing lower tensioned drums, and not a mistake. Anyone used to chopping on Kevlar will have to adjust their approach accordingly.

At some point, I may swap in the Ambassador head and try that out but honestly, I am so delighted with the feel and response of the Emperor head that I’m going to hang out with it awhile.

If you’ve been on the fence about the Last Pad, it’s worth the money and the time you’ll invest in it.

If you’re focused on marching snare and you chop on Kevlar, get the double-sided version and put different heads on each side. If you’re looking for a really fine concert or traditional pad, the single-sided is ideal. 

(Note: Beetle Percussion does not pay me to test and write about their pads, or to help market them. Now that they offer hoodies, though, I may just have to buy one.)

Happy drumming.

Vintage Corner: Sam Ulano’s King Size Pad

Sam Ulano was a jazz drummer and drum teacher based in New York. He wrote and published many instruction books that are still in use today, and one of his quirkiest claims to fame is the one gig he played for the band PiL (Public Image, Ltd, with John Lydon before he founded the Sex Pistols).

Sam taught numerous drummers over a fifty year period and designed his own practice pads and practice sticks. His sticks were made from sections of metal conduit, and were designed for use on heavy rubber practice pads. You can find a couple of his pad designs in YouTube videos, like this one.

(Photo stills, enlarged, from the video)

Note the construction and size of the pad, with gum rubber set into a panel atop a blue wooden box.

I’d assume the handle is for ease of carrying, and that the box is hollow for resonance (though perhaps a drawer could be opened on one side to store a lesson book). I’ll need to research further to find better photos and information about this particular pad.

In other videos, Sam is shown playing on a big, flat pad. Here’s a photo still of that style of pad, taken from another video (with low production values, but you can still see the pads he and his student are using).

I acquired one of the flat styled pads this week in an online sale. This pad had previously been offered by another seller, at a price I couldn’t afford at the time. Six months later, it showed up for sale again, this time from a seller of random vintage items. I watched the listing for another six months and finally made him an offer that we could both live with. 

The pad is well used and probably dates from the 1960s or 70s. 

The top side is a panel of thick, pure gum rubber, of the kind available between the 1940s and 1960s, inset into a wood frame. It has a great feel even now, but the rubber has disintegrated with use and time. If I play on it, tiny crumbs of dried rubber flake off. I’m researching a way to preserve the rubber and make it safer to play without damage.

The bottom side of the pad has a much harder black panel of rubber that resembles the stuff found on the earliest versions of the HQ Real Feel pads. It has rebound, but is much harder in feel and tone.

The whole thing is supported by a thick wooden frame that measures around 13” x 11”, with playing surfaces measuring 12” x 10” — making for a very big practice pad.

I’m very glad to add this to my collection of vintage pads. I’m hoping to stabilize the gum rubber so I can use the pad regularly. Stay tuned.

UPDATE, May 8 2026: I heard from someone who studied with Sam back in the day and saw photos of my pad online. He informed me that Sam had his students make their own pads based on his design and instructions. So this adds another layer of interestingness to an already really cool, historic pad.

I LOVE that making your own practice pad was par of the instruction for these drum students!

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

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.