Category / drum set

by Nathan Coumbe

Self-education is great. Self-education is limiting.

When I was 18, I auditioned to become a jazz studies major in the percussion department at the University of Southern Mississippi.

I’d been a musician for most of my life, taking my first lessons at the age of seven and attending one of the state’s best arts schools for a significant portion of my education.

But… I’d studied violin, piano, and voice. I was a completely self-taught drummer. I’d learned everything I knew from playing along to my favorite CDs and watching videos of my favorite drummers, trying to emulate them.

The audition did not go well. Dr. Wooton, the head of the department, asked me to play a ratamacue; I had no idea what that was.1

He asked me to play a G Major scale on his marimba. I remember exactly what I said: “Is it laid out like a piano keyboard?” He chuckled. “Yes, just like a piano.” I picked up a marimba mallet (I’d never held one) and slowly, painfully, pecked out a G Major scale with one hand.

Finally, he asked to see my drum set skills. Dread gave way to excitement… Until he asked me to play a Songo. I had no clue what that was. He asked for a Samba, a 2nd-Line… I just shook my head.

Finally, he asked for a bossa nova. “THAT ONE I KNOW!” I shouted. And I proceeded to demolish his drums like a metalhead on PCP playing the worst bossa nova ever attempted by a drummer.

“NO!” He said. “It’s a light and airy dance music. You play it like this.” And he sat behind the drums and tapped out something a Brazilian native would have happily danced along with.

Dr. Wooton, eventually and probably grudgingly, told me that he would take me into his studio, but that I desperately needed lessons. I decided to delay my entrance to USM by a year while I studied snare drum, drum set, and xylophone with a local private teacher (Jeff Mills, drummer for the blues musician you see in “O, Brother Where Art Thou”).

My skills under Jeff’s tutelage, buoyed by my preexisting musical knowledge, grew exponentially in just a year. I was able to audition again and even pass an audition to join the lower-level jazz band at the university, where I eventually earned a degree.

Why does this story come up now?

Well, I realized a couple of days ago that I’m once again back in the exact same place, but this time in my corporate career.

I work in learning and development for a moderate-sized corporation. And I genuinely feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.

There’s even a term for people like me in the industry: “Accidental trainer.” It’s someone who was really good at teaching, who moved into the corporate world and began implementing those same skills as a trainer… With no formal training.

L&D is its own beast, its own field with tons of nuance. And you need skills ranging from business strategy and project management to adult learning theory, instructional design, and cognitive psychology… Not to mention a penchant for being able to cajole, persuade, and sell to people above you.

Everything I’ve learned has been through on-the-job self-education to accomplish a project or do a task assigned to me. However, I’ve reached a point, much like in my audition, where the cracks in my education (or lack thereof) are starting to show.

It’s getting harder and harder to do my work well because everything is more complex than ever before. More is expected of me, and I worry I’m not up to it where I am today.

So the solution is education: actual education by people who know what they’re doing… Not random readings and YouTube videos. I need a new Jeff Mills for my learning and development career (and don’t worry—I have found something.)

At some point, I think we all discover that self-education and learning on the job aren’t enough to accomplish what’s being asked of us. We need a teacher, a mentor, a master to show us the way. Something, or someone, that knows the ins and outs of the field of study and can help us master it.

If you’ve reached this point, I hope you’ll try to find someone like that to help you level up.

  1. I later found out it was one of his favorite rudiments (sort of a “word” in the language of drumming), and it quickly became mine. If you want to see a master using them, check out this video. ↩︎
by Nathan Coumbe

Be bad in public

Yesterday’s post talked about perfection getting in the way of your art. Today, I wanted to give a special thanks to John Cochran, Joey Panella, and Rebecca Smith for letting me get out of my own way.

When I was in my early twenties, I majored in Jazz Studies at the University of Southern Mississippi. My weapon of choice was the drum set, and I was pretty average.

I was learning from books, playing in jazz band rehearsals 3 days per week, and shedding in the practice room. Still, I was not great.

I wasn’t great because I had almost no experience.

For whatever reason, John, a guitarist, came to me and asked if I would be willing to play drums with him and the others in a weekly gig at a pub in Hattiesburg. I accepted.

It was not until I started playing 3 hours a day – not very well – every single Tuesday from 10pm-1am, in front of a live audience, that my skills as a musician truly started to develop. That was the experience I needed to truly begin developing as a musician. It was at that point that I began learning on what I needed to focus and develop, so that I would improve. And improve I did.

I say all of that to encourage you to do a few things:

  1. Be brave enough to practice, and suck, in public.
  2. Find a mentor or sponsor that will allow you to suck in public.
  3. Show up day after day whether you suck or not.

I’m not encouraging you to be bad at something for which you’ll never put in the effort to become excellent. I’m saying that you’ll have to be bad at something you want to do before you become good; it helps if you do it in public, and it really helps if someone supports you while you do it in public.

It’s the only way you will start learning what you need to learn.

Thanks John, Joey, and Rebecca.

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by Nathan Coumbe

New toys

There is nothing quite like coming home and opening new toys. Even when you’re almost 30.

My new practice and teaching kit arrived today, and I could not be more thrilled.