Product Review: Pork Pie Pork Rub Snare Drum

Every now and then when I find something interesting, I'll share my thoughts. Today I'm going to yammer on about my 6.5 x 14 Pork Pie Brass snare drum in the Pork Rub finish. If you're not a drummer this would be a good time to catch up on your e-mails.

First of all I have to say this: I generally do not care for brass snare drums. I’ve owned a handful of various makes and models and usually tire of them quickly. They are great for cutting through a mass of volume but, these days, they sound too harsh and brittle to my worn out ears.

But . . .

There is an exception to every rule and I may have found a brass snare drum that has something to offer other than a tenacious high-end snap.

The first thing that appealed to me about this Pork Pie snare was the funky, antique looking finish. The smoky brown finish on the beaded shell brings to mind an old leather chair or a glass of serious whiskey (with an “e”). Bill Detamore has a reputation for beautiful and often quite unique drum finishes and the Pork Rub finish continues that tradition.

Along with the patina finish the drum sports the usual tube lugs, ten of them to be exact, a no nonsense side-throw snare strainer/butt assembly, a pair of 2.3mm triple-flanged hoops and what looks to be a set of  22 or 24 strand brass snares.

So, how does it sound?

Right out of the box, with a coated Ambassador batter head tuned medium tight it produced a big, throaty sound with plenty of high end. Dare I say the drum sounded a little darker than I expected? Maybe there is something to that finish besides good looks?

Tuned up a bit higher the decay shortened up a little and the brassy qualities started to come into play although without the annoying “ping” that I usually hear with a tightly tensioned brass snare drum. It was when I started turning the tension rods counter-clockwise that the drum disappointed somewhat. It became muddy and thick even when there was still some tension on the head.

So it was time to try something different. First up was a different batter head. A new Vintage Ambassador, which are slightly thicker than the standard model, improved the sound of the drum at lower tunings quite a bit without sacrificing the pleasing qualities I heard at other tunings. I could live with this set up quite happily but I had a few other things to play with.

I don’t care for thick hoops and I can’t stand die cast hoops. I think they make the drums feel stiff and can make certain drums, mainly snare drums, sound boxy. I put a set of 1.6 mm hoops on this drum and replaced the brass wires with a generic set of "snappy snare" wires and the difference was night and day. All of a sudden the whole drum opened up and all those wonderful overtones, all that snotty clang and clatter I love in a snare drum revealed themselves. Now I really had something to work with!

I’ve used the drum in a pretty wide variety of applications including a dreaded outdoor gig that normally makes everything sound flat and dull. The drum always delivered a great sound with a wide variety of  sticks, brushes and rods. Rim shots were clear and easy to articulate and the drum sounded open and full no matter where you played on the head.

So, in short, a real gem and a keeper.

P. S. (I wonder, what would an eight-lug, 5.5x14 with straight hoops sound like?) :)

I voted today.

I voted today. I'm not bragging or patting myself on the back. I don't buy the "if you don't vote you can't complain" argument because I think that while some people don't vote because they are lazy or saddled with inertia, others use their non-participation as a vote of no confidence or, more bluntly, a way to say "Fuck You" to the whole damaged process.

And I'll admit, I'm really close to being one of those people.

I vaguely recall a time when voting was a positive process, you actually voted for someone or something. "Yes! I want you to represent me! Yes, I like that plan, let's do it!" Now I find myself voting against things with little in the way of a credible alternative. It's kind of like deciding if I'd rather have twenty pounds of mud dumped on me or twenty pounds of horseshit. Either way, I'm gonna need a shower and that's how I feel after voting these days.

The entire system is a train wreck from top to bottom and anyone opting to participate deserves to be treated with a measure of distrust and suspicion. It's like seeing your local preacher walking into a porn emporium. Yeah, he might just need change for the parking meter but smart money says he's stocking up on latex and screw goo.

And even if the really good guys and gals get a handle on the process and manage to find a way to maneuver around the corruption and partisan bullshit, they can't possibly work for the common good because there is no common good anymore. We're a nitwit nation each blessed at birth with God-given rights and entitlements and we will have our way regardless of how it impacts others around us.

Compromise? That's for losers.
Compassion? Kiss my ass.
Consideration? Fuck you.

It's convenient to blame the politicians (and, to be sure, they deserve plenty of blame) but in a way they are doing exactly what they are supposed to do: They are representing the majority and the majority of us are fucking self-centered twats.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take a shower.                   

A Tall Tale.

One of the more popular topics in drum geek lore involves two very influential drummers, both of whom have earned a place in drumming history.

One of those drummers you may have heard of: A guy by the name of Ringo Starr. He used to play in a band called Wings . . . whoops . . . strike that, he was in a band called The Beatles which was the band Paul McCartney was in before Wings. (And if I have to explain who Paul McCartney is you probably shouldn’t be reading this).

The other drummer is a fella by the name of Bernard Purdie. Mr. Purdie is a very successful studio musician with an impressive list of credits to his name. Even if you exclude his exemplary work with Aretha Franklin, James Brown, King Curtis, Steely Dan and countless others, his place in the history books is cemented with his popularization of the Purdie Shuffle drum beat. This distinctive beat has been utilized by everyone from John Bonham (“Fool In The Rain” by Led Zepellin, a song they might have actually wrote instead of plagiarized), Jeff Porcaro (“Rossana” by Toto) and, more recently, Jason McGerr (“Grapevine Fires” by Death Cab for Cutie).

Unfortunately Bernard will also be remembered for his claims that he was secretly hired to replace Ringo on as many as 21 early Beatle recordings and was paid a large sum of money to keep his mouth shut. As near as I can tell Bernard first made this claim in Max Weinberg’s book “The Big Beat” which was originally published in 1984. When pressed for details Bernard plays coy and insists he is keeping the details secret until he writes his book, which will reveal all and make him oodles of money. (But Bernard, weren’t you well paid to keep your mouth shut?)

So, what’s wrong with this picture?

If nothing else it demonstrates that one does not want to pay Bernard Purdie to keep his mouth shut but there are other, more practical reasons to doubt Bernard’s ludicrous story.

Doubt #1)
Up until The Beatles recorded “The Beatles” (AKA: “The White Album”) in 1968, they were working on four-track recording technology with the earliest recordings captured on two track machines. EMI, their recording company and owners of EMI/Abbey Road studios, were notoriously tight-fisted and shortsighted and the studio was saddled with outdated technology for most of the Beatles’ recording career. There are a small handful of well-documented Beatle songs with other drummers, basically Andy White one on song and Paul “Do-it-All” McCartney on a few others, but Bernard’s name appears nowhere in the exhaustively researched history of Beatle recording sessions.     

Recording to two or four tracks requires that multiple instruments be recorded on one track or one section of the tape. As a result you might have the entire rhythm section (bass, guitar, piano, drums) on one track and the rest of the performances on the other track(s).

And here is where Bernard’s story begins to unravel a bit since it would be impossible to replace Ringo’s drum track without replacing everything else on that track as well. Now, one can argue that Ringo’s abilities easy to replace and improve (I don’t buy that argument, by the way) but the other Beatles had very distinctive playing styles so if Bernard replaced Ringo’s work, who replaced George, John and Paul’s work?

At the very most someone could have augmented Ringo’s playing by bouncing the existing tracks to a single track and recording drums or percussion on the open track. That makes no sense because Ringo’s supposedly poor playing would still be evident along with the “better” playing by Bernard and anyone who has ever recorded knows you rarely improve a performance by throwing more stuff on top of it, especially a rhythm track.     

Doubt #2)
Remember EMI and their tight-fisted ways? When the Beatles were first signed to EMI, pop music was considered cheap and disposable and the Beatles were so far down the list that they were shuttled off to the budget Parlaphone imprint. Why would EMI agree to throw good money after bad to fix the drum tracks on a crummy little pop band recording? Twenty-one times. And even if they did make that decision, why would they go to the trouble and expense to have this work done in the US by an American drummer when there were plenty of capable studio drummers in London and probably even some already on the EMI payroll.

There are two plausible explanations left.

One.
The biggest stretch is that Bernard was hired to augment some old and/or obscure Beatle recordings by other labels looking to cash in on the band’s early success. This scenario has quite a few serious complications but, to give Bernard the benefit of the doubt, let’s at least consider it.   
 
Two.
Bernard Purdie ran his mouth a wee bit faster than his brain. Once the story got out his ego wouldn’t let him admit his fib and he continued to fuel the flames by insisting that it was true.

I'm apt to go with door number two. It seems Bernard Purdie is not content with his own tremendous legacy and feels the need to take extra with this absurd story. It doesn't lessen his great contributions to our drumming lexicon and he isn't the only studio musician taking credit for someone else's work, but it is a sad character flaw that will dog him for a very long time.      

The Art of Sitting In.

I just read a blog by Danny Barnes called “how to play in someone else’s band”. It’s an excellent read and should be required reading for any musician: http://dannybarnes.com/blog/how-play-someone-elses-band

As I read Danny’s blog it occurred to me that there are also some basic rules of etiquette for musicians sitting in on another band’s gig. Whether you are asked to sit in or “gulp” ask to sit in, it is imperative to know and follow a few simple courtesies.

Don’t Try to Take Over the Show.

You are a guest, not a guest star. Save the showboating for your own gigs. Taking over the mic with rambling monologues is a no-no and yelling “how’s everybody doing tonight” is just silly. Chances are, unless you are Slash or Springsteen, no one is as impressed at your cameo appearance as you think they are.

Don’t use your spot as an audition or an opportunity to promote your band and don’t bark orders at the musicians on stage.

Limit Your Time.

Know when enough is enough. If you haven’t agreed on how many songs you will play beforehand, learn to recognize the subtle and not-so-subtle hints that your welcome has been stretched thin. Some musicians might be too shy or polite to actually say anything so keep your eyes and ears open for telltale signs that the band is ready to resume their set. Two or three songs are usually adequate and if you have to resort to playing “Johnny B. Goode” then that’s a good sign that the well has run dry. Which brings us to:

Know What You are Going to Play.

Show the band a little courtesy and have some idea as to what songs you can do together. If it’s a classic rock band and you’re Mr. Up-To-The-Minute-Hip don’t expect them to know the latest noise from some obscure screamo punk band. In fact, before you sit in, listen the band play a few songs or a set and if you aren’t familiar with the band’s material, don’t get on stage.

Don’t Screw With the Gear.

If you are not professional enough to play on unfamiliar gear, do not get on stage and readjust everything to your liking. Remember you are a guest; don’t waste time fussing with guitar straps, amp settings and drum hardware. Get up, play and get off.

Respect the band’s gear. Maybe you play like some coked up gorilla on your drum set but don’t beat the living shit out of someone else’s gear. And if by chance you do damage something, don’t offer to pay for it, INSIST on paying for it. Right now, then and there.

Just Say No.

Exceptions abound but really most bands do not welcome sit ins. It is intrusive and it eats into their opportunity to play out. You might be asked to sit in as a gesture of politeness. Try this: If asked to sit in, politely decline and if they persist then you can be sure that you are actually welcomed and not just being tolerated.

And if you’ve asked, begged and/or needled the band to sit in, well, shame on you.

Fan Boy.

Ya gotta start somewhere and I did back in 1967. I lived in a little Michigan town located in the vicinity of Boofland and Bumfuck. Population: Me and no drum instructors to speak of. Oops.

In a time before cable TV, the Internet, drum magazines and instructional videos, a ten-year old larval drummer living in a place where pick-up trucks and tractors go to die is apt to be starved for information and I was. To feed my drum gluttony I sent away for the latest drum catalogs so I could at least daydream and sort how the damn things were supposed to be set up but catalogs were useless when it came to figuring out important things like how to hold the sticks, when to hit the big drum and what in the hell I was supposed to do with that damn cymbal foot pedal on the left.

No, for the real dirt I had to rely on the four or five available television stations and monitor them diligently for any real live drummers in action. Options were scarce. If I was lucky I might catch some pop band miming their single on a variety show like Sonny and Cher or Johnny Cash's show. Usually the drummer was awkwardly air drumming five or six inches over the drums and cymbals trying to pantomime to a drum part someone else recorded, probably Hal Blaine or Earl Palmer, not that I noticed. On Saturday mornings I could always count on yet another fake performance on good old American Bandstand. In fact, I swear I saw a band like the Grassroots start miming a song on AB and then, in the middle of the song, start breaking down their gear as a joke. I think I was probably stunned that they weren't actually playing live and, in retrospect, I suppose it was my first glimpse into the black hole that is the music bidness. (The memory is crystal clear even though I've never been able to confirm that it actually happened. And if it is not true, it certainly should be.)

Slowly but surely I put together enough information to start pounding away on my Dixie drums set. The finer points of my technique would eventually be addressed when I joined the school band but for now, I was ready to rock. But to what? Even as a young drum geek I quickly grew impatient playing the drums solo, a trait I still harbor, but I sure as hell didn't know any other musicians.

But I had me a Montgomery Ward stereophonic record player with detachable speakers and, better yet, I had a patient mother willing to join the Columbia Record club! Yes!!! Twelve records for a dollar and the promise to buy a gazillion more at full retail and shipping and woe if you forget to send in the card every month because the “pick of the month” that shipped automatically was usually some piece of dreck.

I loaded up on my first dozen records and over the next couple of years I built a collection of fine mid-sixties pop and roll with a heavy emphasis on CBS/Columbia artists. And among those records were two very special LPs that are the crux of this story.

One summer there was a top 40 single all over the CKLW airwaves and this song had the most awesome, fucking killer syncopated drum break. It was called “Mr. Sun, Mr. Moon” by Paul Revere and the Raiders featuring Mark Lindsay. And they were Columbia recording artists! The album with the single, “Hard and Heavy with Marshmallow” (hey, it was the 1960's) and the following LP, “Alias Pink Puzz” (see previous parenthetical bit) were pivotal to my drumming development.

Now the titles may be dated and desperately hip but the music was good and, even more importantly, the drumming was a revelation to my ears. I didn't quite realize why they were so cool back then but the slightly swingy, R&B style drumming and the fat, punchy drum sounds weren't anything like the staid drumming I was usually hearing on the radio.

The drummer was an Afro topped, tall drink of water named Joe Corerro, Jr. and I blatantly ripped off a whole lot of stuff from Mr. Corerro, stuff I still use on a regular basis to this day. Excluding Ringo, Joe was the first drumming influence I could put a name and face to.

Fast forward to 2007-ish.

I'm attending the Winter NAMM show in Anaheim, California and I'm killing time on a Saturday night at the Anaheim Hilton. During NAMM the lobby of the Hilton turns into a mass of bodies, music, booze and people desperate to see and be seen. Having had my fill I searched out a relatively quite hallway and plopped down on a couch to rest my feet and my mind.

A few minutes later two gentleman asked if they could share the seat and as they sat I noticed a name on the tall one's name badge; Joe Corerro.

Over the years I've had the opportunity to spend time with a handful of well-known musicians and even a few bona fide rock stars and, as interesting as that can be, I was never star struck. But upon realizing that I was sharing a couch with the one and only Joe Corerro, Jr., I turned into a blithering fan boy. This was the guy that literally defined much of what I do with and behind a drum set. Thankfully I regained my composure and proceeded to have a nice conversation with a very pleasant, if slightly bewildered, ex-Raider drummer.

It's always been my theory that life is a series of cycles.

I still play along to Paul Revere and the Raiders.