Made in China. But at what cost to US makers?

The annual convention of the Percussive Arts Society is happening this weekend in Indianapolis.

PASIC features lots of workshops, performances and a gigantic marketplace where drum companies display their latest releases of new product.

I've never been and likely won't ever make it to a PAS Convention. But I'm confident in saying that at least half of what's new on the market this fall will have been manufactured in China.

(You can read my previous posts here about which companies are making their own products in-house, and which are having them made and branded by juggernaut factories in China. The last time I went into specifics, guys from the two biggest US drum companies went all pitbull on me in the socials and it wore me out.)

That drum companies feel compelled to mass-produce cheap pads overseas, mark up the retail by several hundred percentage points and then massage the socials to hype their pads so that kids will want to buy them, is just a sad reality of today's practice pad market. It has been a sad reality of retail for a long time, and there is little you or I can do about it except to point out when things go sideways.

Case in point:

A well-known marching drum instructor and clinician had a signature pad that was produced for several years by a US company. That company made the pads in small quantities in-house in the US and they were immensely popular among marching drummers. The pad was very well made and retailed for a little over $100, a price deemed a little high by the dictates of the modern practice pad market, but understandable because the pad was made in small batches by the guy who was selling it and there wouldn't be a ton of profit in that. (Apparently, you're not supposed to turn a huge profit if you make what you sell. Who knew?)
It became one of the most popular pads in that maker's catalog.

This fall, that instructor told his small US maker to drop his signature pad. He was signing on with a larger company as one of their official artists, and the new company would be offering his pad going forward. 

The catch? The company this instructor has jumped to doesn't actually make any of its own products. They are all made by other manufacturers and embossed with the company's name and logo. In the case of practice pads, the pads for the new company are all made by Hanflag in China. Hanflag makes pads and rebrands them for a bunch of American-based companies including RCP, Salyers and others. 

When you have one factory making products for three or five different companies, those companies have to come up with ways to differentiate from each other in order to sell more units. If they can't find a way to differentiate, then negotiations must be made for one company to drop a pad design and allow another company to market that design under their name. 

(This has just happened with Salyers and RCP, both of which produced an adjustable snare pad that was made by Hanflag -- which also sells the pad under the brand name HUN in Asian markets. Salyers realized that it could not differentiate enough from RCP, and since RCP brought out the pad in the US market first, they are keeping it in their lineup while Salyers has discontinued it. I wasn't a fly on the wall, but I have friends who work in the industry and they have confirmed that this is basically what happened. Good luck finding a Salyers "Stealth" pad now. They're gone. But you can get the exact same design from RCP, which sells it as their "Active Snare" pad.)

What's so maddening about this is that the production is not at all sustainable; the pads use materials that are redundant and harmful for the environment and the factory has to ship them halfway around the globe to get them into the hands of kids in the US market. None of this is good. What makes it worse is when a design is copied -- or altered just enough to avoid copyright infringement -- so that an artist can shift his allegiance from a small-batch craft maker to a larger mass-producer which doesn't even make their own product.

This conversation has already made its way to the socials, and the new design of the pad mentioned above has just been released at PASIC, so I'm not revealing anything new here.

Exhibit A: the original design, made in the US from sustainable, environmentally sensitive materials. The practice rim went all the way around and the top surface had a laminate laid over recycled rubber. A second surface affixed to the bottom provided a different feel and made the pad versatile.

Exhibit B: The new version of this design, altered enough to avoid legal concerns and mass-produced in China from materials that are very likely not as environmentally friendly. The practice rim goes only halfway around the surface, and there doesn't seem to be a laminate (though I won't be surprised if one is sold separately at a premium price).

This new version of the design retails for around $100. Consider how little it costs to make this mass-produced version and you realize that a great deal more of the money will be pure profit for someone who didn't make the pad. (By the rules of this game, the man who owns the company is the one who deserves all the profit he can get. Because he was smart enough to get someone else to make the product for him at pennies on the dollar.)

I'm sure the new version of this pad design is playable, and will sell well enough to justify the switch. The kids who participate in the modern marching arts are all familiar with this instructor and will certainly want to buy this new pad.

The instructor/clinician is a brilliant drummer, has chops for days and also publishes instruction books that are becoming very popular among marching drummers. (The new company will distribute his books, which is an added bonus for someone who had been self-distributing before.) I have no ill will for the drummer at all and wish him well.

What bothers me is that the marketplace as it is currently designed and managed forces people to make decisions based on economics first, and other considerations fall much farther down the ladder. This isn't one drummer's fault. It is the fault of a kind of capitalism that insists on endless growth for a company's survival.

The kids who will buy this pad won't care. They're kids who just want to chop on an awesome pad designed by an awesome drummer. Never mind how the pad came to be what it is today, or where and how it was made. If you try to educate the kids about this whole scene, they will resent you for harshing their vibe. That's just the way it is.

But the state of the drum marketplace today is just so predatory and wasteful, and that is why I've largely turned my attention to collecting and restoring vintage pads. Every old pad I bring back to life is a pad that won't go to the landfill, and instead can be handed to a young drummer to be enjoyed for many more years. I can live with that, and I can live with never stepping foot into another trade show exhibit hall for the rest of my life.

Chop on.

(NOTE: If you wanted the earlier version of this pad, don't worry! The original US maker of this pad has turned to making custom pads on demand, and if you can live without the signature you can probably get something very close to the original design of the pad above.)

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.

Stick-pad pairings: an inexact and fun science

 Prompted by an earlier discussion of “pad sticks” at the FB Boutique Sticks group, I’ve decided to offer a few suggestions for pairing ordinary drum sticks with practice pads in ideal combinations.

First, a word about “pad sticks,” which have been discussed earlier in this blog:

Generally speaking, “pad” sticks are designated as such by the manufacturer, and not an historic category.

They most often come with a diameter similar to a smaller marching drum stick (think 2S or so), with a medium taper and an oversized ball tip.     

  

Pad sticks are designed for use on a practice pad, most often to practice rudiments and to clean passages before applying them in rehearsal or performance. But without an historic designation, pad sticks are basically an invention of stick manufacturers and drum companies looking to expand their “brand”.

The oversize tip makes them risky to use on an actual drum, unless that drum is built to withstand the additional forces provided by a heavy stick. (The original pad stick from Vic Firth was not labeled as such in the beginning, but as model “Thunder Rock” for rock drummers.)

Moving away from Pad sticks — go back and read the post on those from a couple years back if you like — I was intrigued by the idea of pairing sticks with specific practice pads, the way Girl Scout cookies have recently been paired with strains of marijuana. This list is by no means exhaustive, and reflects the opinion of one Drummer, but is a good place to start.

1. Vintage pads (through around 1990). Older pads work best with the sticks in use at the time of their design and manufacture. Using a modern marching stick on a Real Feel tan rubber pad from over twenty years ago may not give the most ideal results for feel and response as using a stick in production in the mid to late 1990s. Likewise for pads made earlier, like this 1960s Remo pad. Promark was just beginning to make a splash in the US with their handmade Japanese oak sticks. Here’s an early 60s Remo pad with a pair of Promark Japanese oak 2B sticks, and the feel is very satisfying.

2. Marching-specific pad with marching sticks. Marching specific pads weren’t really a factor until the later 1990s and later, but their appearance in the world of practice pads changed a few of the rules for pad and stick pairings. Designed to take the heavier hits of newer marching sticks, marching pads don’t always offer the nuanced feel of a more standard pad (like a Remo, still on the market and used by students around the world even today). So if you have a marching-specific pad, you’ll be happiest with modern marching sticks. Below, a HUN adjustable snare pad and my VF Brian Mason signature sticks, which I use when playing with my local community marching group. They feel great and are sturdy enough for the craziest rim shots.

3. Custom/boutique sticks and tunable pads. When I use boutique, custom, small batch sticks, I prefer to use them on tunable pads with a Mylar head. That’s the closest to an actual tuned drum, and the least likely to damage the sticks. If your pad uses a coated head, it’s helpful to lightly sand the center of the pad to remove some of the coating (to reduce wear and tear on the tips).  Inculcate brush patterns mostly utilize the outer four to five inches of the head, so you won’t lose much brush coating where you really need it. 

Below: a really lovely pair of Cooperman concert sticks with a QuietTone tunable pad.

Again, this is only a starting point, and can get as specific or as general as you like. If you have lots of pads and sticks to choose from, it might be fun to consider which pair well, so you can get optimal use from each.

Happy drumming.

DIY Drummer: Timpani practice pads

Since getting back into concert percussoion, I've been noticing timpani practice pads.
Commercially-made, these highly specialized pads start at around $40 and go up to over $150.

I decided to see if I could make a set for use at home.

All it took was some scrap wood, closed-cell ensolite camper pad material, and some Super-Glue gel. Et voila! One is small enough to fit in my mallet bag; two are perfect for practicing tricky passages at home. The feel is close to that of a tuned kettledrum, and if used ONLY with felt-covered mallets should last awhile.

After hanging out with these a little while, I decided to preserve the edges by wrapping them in gaffing tape. Once the tape sets, I’m hoping it will protect the edges from scuffs and snags, that step, plus playing ONLY with felt-covered mallets, should be enough to preserve the useful life of these pads for quite awhile.

Happy drumming.

Some final thoughts on the new “workout” pad phenomenon.

 For the last six to eight months, I’ve had some fun obtaining and trying out all sorts of different pads advertised as being specifically for “working out” or “warmups.” Here’s a list of what I’ve cycled through:

— Reflexx (pre-Zildjian)

— Revolution 

— Drumeo Quiet Pad (1st generation)

— Prologix Red, Blue and Black

— Moongel (early edition, borrowed briefly from a friend)

I didn’t have the Moongel for more than a week, not long enough for me to really live with it and decide if I wanted one for myself. In hindsight, probably not.

This has given me a fairly wide range of surfaces to try out, and also some time to consider the whole idea of “working out” on  a playing surface.

Before the advent of so-called “workout” pads, drummers warmed up on any old practice pad, or on an actual drum. 

So who decided that the world needed pads specifically for “warming up” or “working out” as if weightlifting were part of the drummer’s training?

That’s not a completely rhetorical question. Specificity in practice pads became big — and big money — when pad makers realized there was, as marching drums got higher and tighter, a growing market for marching-specific pads. So finding another specific market isn’t such a far-fetched phenomenon.

It may be, however, an unfortunate one.

In the years before pads got SO specialized, all drummers learned how to play roughly the same way. Learn and master the twenty-six original rudiments; learn how to read music; and then apply the techniques learned to playing in dance bands, drum corps, school marching bands and classical orchestras. With only minor differences in technique, a drummer could transfer his or her skills from one kind of music to another without too much fuss. Good drummers before the rise of specialization were those who could play and read in nearly every style, and they were the ones who found steady work in opera and vaudeville houses, musical theatre pit orchestras, jazz combos and military outfits.

When drum corps and marching bands began to change, to “modernize,” in the late 1970s, most drummers still had to know how to do everything well. As drum technology evolved, as drums got higher-pitched and higher-tensioned, it soon became clear that differences in playing style and technique were necessary, since Kevlar and carbon marching drum heads required a different approach than looser Mylar heads still used in jazz and symphonic work.

And so the practice surfaces for each diverged more and more, until by the early 2000s there were pads for “general” use and pads for “marching” use. Over time, the young people involved in the marching arts were relatively easy to channel into a new market for pad makers, and specialty pads for marching drummers became, as the kids say, A Thing.

And that’s how we got to where we are now.

Some of the marching-specific pads are quite good, in as much as they promote and encourage the kind of technique required in today’s drum lines. Are modern marching drums and pads, and the technique required to play them, healthy for still-growing hands and arms? I’m not medically qualified to answer that question with any authority. What I DO know is that many older drummers (those marching before the advent of high-tension drums) who grew up marching with lower-tensioned drums often find it very hard — and sometimes painful — to make the transition to Kevlar and carbon heads. 

That’s something worth thinking about.

Back to “workout” pads.

Why do I need to “work out” when it comes to drumming? I play drums nearly every single day, and usually warm up with a page from “StickControl” (still the best drum book that no one ever loved), followed by some Rudimental exercises or short pieces at different tempi. By then, my hands are ready to tackle whatever it is I want to look at that day, whether behind the drum kit or with a marching snare drum. (*note: I play marching drums with lower-tensioned Mylar heads exclusively, and will never play a Kevlar-headed drum again. My hands are too old, arthritic and accustomed to lower tension.)

So after several months of trying out these different “workout” pads, I came to the realization that in the end, I probably don’t need them. 

I’ll go out on a limb and suggest that, in the end, neither do most other drummers.

I’ll go even further and say that “workout” pads should NOT be given to young drummers whose hands are still growing.

Why? Because if they’re used improperly, or too often, or for too long, they can actually hurt your hands rather than help them. And while many of my readers came from a world where private teachers and one-on-one instruction were par for the course, there are many drummers who still don’t have access to that and who have to figure things out themselves.
Giving young, unschooled drummers  one of these “workout” pads and letting them pound away with little or no guidance is a mistake that could result in injury.

Something that is or feels like a real (non-Kevlar) drum is probably the best choice for drummers of any age and level of experience. 

So I have been letting go of those “workout” pads, one by one.

Today, I’m down to one “workout” pad, the Drumeo Quiet Pad,  and it’s the obverse surface of a pad that has a basic silicon rubber top side. I’ll probably hang onto it for awhile, as part of my pad collection.

The rest are gone. I won’t miss them. 

Today I broke out a rubber practice pad, warmed up on it, and then settled in for a short session working up another of the Wilcoxon solos. It felt fine. When I was done, my hands did not hurt from overwork.

Cheers and happy drumming.

More pad restoration: know what to look for, and keep it out of the landfill

 So this week I scored a wonderful selection of old pads and hardware.

The seller needed to clear it out quickly, accepted my below-asking offer and was willing to ship for free.

Granted, these pads will need some cleaning up, but when I’m done, they’ll be as fun to pound on as when they were new, and the hardware will help complete a few drum kits in the neighborhood.

When you look for used pads to clean up and reuse, you have to know what to look for.

AND you have to be willing to put in the time and work to rescue them.

The rubber pads will need some cleaning, and some real elbow grease to bring them back to useful life.  The tunable Remo pads just need cleaning up and fresh replacement heads.

Soon after I take delivery on this lot, several drummers will have great pads to practice on, and I will have kept all this stuff out of the landfill.

THIS is what sustainability is about. Find old, beat-up stuff, fix it up and clean it up, and prepare it for a second life with a new owner.

What I’m saying here won’t make many manufacturers happy; for them, it’s about tying custom to buy new stuff regularly. But for kids on a budget, for nonprofit youth programs on a budget, for your friend down the street who’s preparing to audition for a corps and needs a more durable practice pad, sustainability is EXACTLY what we should promote within the drumming world.

End of sermon. Happy Drumming!

welcome to drumlove

I've decided to create a new blog devoted to my first musical love.
Before I ever picked up a guitar, before I ever sang in public, I played drums.
I began with a friend's Hoppity Hop (remember those bouncy-ride toys from the 1970s?), and soon progressed to a set of toy bongos my Dad bought for me at Frontier Village theme park in San Jose.
I was eight, and my bongos became my friend. I played them all the time.
In fifth grade, I joined the school band and learned to play snare drum, bass drum, and eventually all the instruments of concert percussion. In high school, I became my wind ensemble's principal tympanist (mostly because I have perfect pitch and because my section leader had little interest in playing anything other than snare drum. Classic.)

Along the way, I also got into pageantry arts education (marching band, drum and bugle corps, etc.); opened a private percussion studio; and made a nice side-career teaching high school drum lines and marching bands; and played for a few bands in clubs in and around Portland.

Twenty years ago, the percussion came to a halt when I was riding my bike and won the "door prize" (a euphenism for getting hit by an opening truck door). The damage to my hands was severe and the residual effects (early-onset arthritis, joint stiffness and pain in changing humidity) have been lifelong. I had to give up timpani and mallets, the two sets of instruments required a certain kind of muscular dexterity I could no longer attain. After establishing myself as a guitar playing singer-songwriter, I returned to rudimental drumming mostly for fun. My chops aren't what they were when I was young, and probably never will be; but I've gotten enough juice back to enjoy myself and to create a daily meditative practice around rudimental drumming on a rubber practice pad.

I've also become an enthusiastic collector of vintage practice pads, and a researcher of historic developments and patents for pad designs. (The header photo shows a few of the pads in my collection.)

Today, I still pursue my career as a touring Jewish musician, traveling to synagogues, camps and JCC's as an artist/educator-in-residence. However, I've made a little more room in my daily musical life for rudimental drumming, hand drumming and creating percussion instruments from repurposed and found objects.

I'll use this blog to share research, photos of interesting practice pads, videos of drumming in action, and bits and pieces of my renewed drumming adventures. Stay tuned! (Below: a sample of my return to drumming, reading from my old NARD book. Cheers!)