Vintage Corner: Slingerland drum UPDATE 3

Yesterday and today, I hurled some love at the rims and the shell.

The drum came to me last summer in pretty bad shape. After careful cleaning, the rims shows fatigue in several spots and the shell had been gouged pretty badly in a couple of spots. I had to decide how much time and effort I wanted to invest, and wheter of not it was worth it.

In the end, I chose a compromise.

Since the shell and rims were still pretty nicely round, I decided to honor the "beausage" (literally, "beauty through usage") the drum had acquired over the decades. After repairing the worst of the cracks (which I did with R's help), I decided I would lightly sand some of the roughest spots, leave the old varnish on everything else, and cover the sanded spots with some clear nail polish. It's not what a real woddworker would do, but I'm not a woodworker and decided that the drum looked more beautiful with its war wounds. (I certainly didn't want to cover the beautiful wood with colored paint! And I couldn't justify the cost of NOS wood hoops for a drum so beat up.)

The rim repair that Ron had helped me with has held nicely, supported by the pieces of bicycle spoke I inserted. All that remained was selective sanding and varnishing with clear nail polish.

The batter rim was marked with spots where the hooks had gathered rust underneath, which had soaked into the wood. Sanding would remove more wood before it removed the rust stains, so I sanded lightly and then varnished with nail polish.

 

The shell posed another aesthetic challenge because a previous owner had gouged it, maybe with a belt buckle while marching.
The gouging had worn through multiple layers of the ply, and while there's still plenty of wood there, filling the depression with wood putty would have been more of a headache than I was prepared for. (I just have a little Tuff-Shed where I fix bikes. Not roomy or fancy.) So I sanded the area lightly to smooth it out a little, cleaned it, and then applied more nail polish.

The nice thing about nail polish is that it fills the grain nicely, and dries quickly between coats

The other thing about mahogany is how it shines when the light catches the grain, even when it's been banged up.

The shell just glows, in a way it didn't when I first got this drum.

That's why I chose to let the drum keep its patina, earned through a hundred performances and a thousand rehearsals, played by any number of hands.

This one's a keeper, and I can't wait until tomorrow to sling it up and try it out.

Video coming soon.
Below: Before, and after.

Vintage Corner: Slingerland Drum UPDATE 2: Rims and shell

Since I was gifted with this drum last summer, here's the progress:

1. I took it all apart so I could begin to clean the hardware and repair the cracks in the snare-side maple hoop.

2.  I gave the bottom hoop to my brother-in-law, a woodworker, so he could soak it and bring the cracked section back into round with the rest of the hoop. This process took a couple of weeks.

3. While I waited for that piece to get finished (in between Ron's professional woodworking jobs), I cleaned the rods and hooks using a Rust Remover stick and finishing with some Nevr-Dull.

4. I got the hoop back from Ron, and finished the repair by adding sections of bicycle spoke to strengthen the repaired crack. I also began removing the tape residue from the rims and shell.

First, the snare hoop. The repair looked pretty good, nice and solid; but Ron advised me that without adding some internal supports it would eventually weaken and break again from tension and repeated playing. So I found a drill bit the right size and carefully drilled two tiny holes through the center of the rim, across the repaired crack. Because the other side of the hoop was showing the beginning of the same fatigue, I drilled holes there too.

The holes were run directly crosswise through the crack and the glue used to repair it.




Then, I took an old bicycle spoke and measured off sections long enough to run through the hoop, with perhaps a couple millimeters counter-sunk on either end.
I checked my work by running a spoke through the hole. It fit perfectly.

Then I measured sections of the spoke and cut off four pieces.

I squirted super-glue into each hole, chased it through with a section of metal spoke, and made sure each end was slightly counter-sunk when finished. Then I set the hoop sideways to allow everything to dry overnight. (By using a thicker gel instead of liquid glue, I was assured that glue would not drip out all over the place.)

The next morning, everything looked fine. I'll need to decide whether or not I want to try and fill in the ends with some wood putty, or just let it be.

Then I turned my attention to removing tape residue from the shell. A friend in Seattle had given me a bottle of an environmentally-friendly solvent called "Best Cleaner Ever," and I tried it.
Following the instructions, I sprayer a little on, let it soak in for a few minutes and then tried to wipe it off. It did nothing to remove the residue; and in fact the solvent itself had to wiped down thoroughly with warm water to remove its own residue. In the end, it may have loosened the tape residue, but that masking tape had been there for fifty or more years, so it's hard to know. I had to carefully scrape it away with a pocket knife, applied gently enough to remove the tape without gouging the wood underneath.

When I was done, I was left with a shell that still show signs of use and abuse, but the luster of the mahogany also showed up nicely. So I've chosen to leave the shell alone, not removing the original clear paint. I will apply some clear coat to the spots or bare wood that need it, and let the "beausage" be a part of the drum's look. The mahogany itself is gorgeous enough, even with the damage.

I still have some residue to remove from the batter hoop tonight. After that, I'll probably sand both hoops lightly, apply something to seal the bare wood spots, and let it all dry for a few days.
Then I'll begin reassembling the drum.
I don't plan to use a leg rest with this drum, but will instead just let it hang against my leg at a tilt. It will be a fair-weather drum only, or if I use it indoors it will be on a stand.
This was an unexpected gift and I'm glad I've had time to learn from repairing and rebuilding it.
Next: video of the finished drum. Coming soon!

Vintage Corner: Bower pad, replica

The first U.S. patent granted for a drum practice pad dates to 1920, for a design by H. A. Bower.

Before this, drummers generally made their own practice pads, or simply played on the tabletop or whatever horizontal surface was handy. Since they were playing on calfskin heads, the idea of using a piece of tanned leather as a playing surface for a portable pad wasn't a stretch. Bower was the first on record to apply for a U.S. patent for such a device.

Here's his design:

As you can see, it's a pretty simple, even crude, design by modern standards. A wooden board is cut to a desired size (in this case, a 12" round). A smaller piece of thick tanned leather that fits inside the diameter is selected, holes are drilled in both and the leather is affixed to the board with string or a shoelace. According to the notes submitted with the patent application, a thin layer of stuffing may be placed under the leather for a slightly softer sound, which would come in handy if you're practicing while on tour.

Scouting around the interwebs, I found that someone had already tried making a replica based on the notes from the patent application.

He also affixed a copy of the label from the first mass-produced version of this pad, licensed to and sold by Art Higman in Los Angeles in the 1920s.

I was curious about how such a pad would sound and feel, so I decided to make one for myself and find out. It was simple: A piece of scrap wood (Mine is about 8.5 inches in diameter because that's what I had on hand), a piece of tanned, undyed leather about 6 inches square and 1.5 mm thick, and a layer of wool batting roughly 3m thick sandwiched between. Holes were drilled in the leather and wood to line up properly, the batting was cut a little narrower to fit in between, and the whole thing was bound together with a shoelace. I also photocopied a picture of the label and glued it on the bottom.

(NOTE: After putting together, I realized that the additional single hold on one side may have been for purposes of increasing the tension on the shoelace, and thereby possibly tightening the leather against the platform a little more. I'm not sure, but next time I get out my drill, I may add that hole and relace the whole thing and see what happens.)

Considering the simplicity of the design, it seems doubtful that such a device would be awarded a patent today. But back in 1919 when the application was filed, the patent office probably hadn't seen or thought about anything like this before.

Here's my replica pad: 

And here's a very short video of my trying it out, first on top of a regular pad and then on my lap (because the pad kept creeping on top of my other pad):

The feel is actually not that bad. When you remember that a 1920 drummer would use this for quiet practice and then play on a drum with a calfskin head, the feel is probably just about right. Lower-tensioned drums of this era would require the player to "pull" the strokes out of the drum, a technique that is not required (or useful) on high-tension Kevlar-headed drums today.

The shoelace prevents a flat, flush connection between the bottom of the pad and the head of a drum, which may be why there's significant "creep". However, a 12-inch pad could also be mounted on a drum stand with pretty good results, provided it could be secured tightly in the basket.

I'm glad I did this, as the experience gives me more information about drumming technique and practice approaches from this era. However, I'll be content and not try to make another in a 12-inch size for now.

Happy drumming.

Vintage Corner: Remo's precursor to the tuneable pad (Part III, sort of)

Here's the followup to my previous posts about the Remo tuneable practice pad.

First, Remo has a really cool little timeline at their web site that allows you to see major developments from the company's beginnings up till around 2007 (the timeline could use an update). From there, I was able to learn a few things that helped me to place the Remo pads in my collection on the historic timelime.

My plastic pad dates from the 1970s.
My two metal-rimmed tuneable pads date from the early to mid 1960s -- basically, until Remo began making tuneable pads with hard plastic rims.
But I have two pads that pre-date these pads, and I always wondered exactly where they came from.

These pads are not tuneable. They are constructed entirely of wood and use very early versions of Remo's synthetic drumhead material, for which patent paperwork was first filed in 1957 (the patent was granted in 1962; prior to this, most drummers had to live with calfskin heads and the vagaries of temperature and humidity that affected them. The synthetic drum head was a revelation as well as a revolution).
Beneath the head there appears to be what's left of some kind of foam (padding? muffling?); it has disintegrated over the decades, leaving a pad with an unsatisfying, hard "thud" sound.

Construction: each pad is made of wood, a built-in tilt and a sound chamber made of a thin piece of wood that looks like it was heated and bent into a curve. The framework holding the head is mounted on top of the curve, making for a resonant pad.

One of the things that can stymie research is a lack of serial numbers or other markers. These can be found on drums, but generally never appear on practice pads.

However, Remo's timeline gives us some help in determining exactly how old these pads are.

Remo's timeline goes as far as charting the course of its "Crown" logo design over the years, which in this case helped me more closely date these pads, the first produced under the Remo brand.

The larger pad's logo is worn, but still visible enough to determine a manufacture date.

Based on Remo's timeline info, that would date this pad to right around 1958-60, making it the first generation of practice pad offered by Remo.
Below, the logo from the smaller pad.

This means that the smaller pad is almost surely from 1961, since the new plastic-rimmed pad was rolled out in early 1962.
Not all companies provide such useful historic information to collectors, but Remo's timeline is especially helpful here. If you look closely at some points along the timeline, you can even click on links to patent information.

Like I said, playing these pads is NOT an exciting experience. The feel and sound are klunky.
It would be great to find a pad in as-new condition, with the foam in original shape, so I could get a better sense of how it sounded in the late 50s.

I hope you've found this exploration as interesting as I have. Happy drumming!

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).