Infectuous Beat

As part of a friend's birthday celebration Friday night, I saw The Visitor at El Cerrito Speakeasy Theater. It's a fun venue - my first visit. They have a great old theater building that has been revitalized with upstairs/downstairs theater space, varied and comfortable seating, pizza and similar snacks, beer/wine/hard cider etc. I didn't know much about the movie, and was knocked out by it. It's a deeply human drama and I strongly recommend it.

I'm not going to tell you the whole story: the link above will do that. Suffice it to say that entwined through the story were rhythms; and Walter, the depressed, grieving professor learns to play drums from his guest, Tarek. To say that he becomes reconnected to life through the drums would ignore the human element and simplify things to an absurd degree - but clearly, drums help.

I've always had a sneaking longing for drums - not the drum kits of rock and roll bands, that's always put me off. It's hand drums I love, that and the glorious physicality of taiko drumming. A few years ago a friend gave me a lovely old Japanese drum, and over the last few months I've shamefacedly gotten it out a few times and tried thunking away on it. Shamefaced because I'm embarrassed even with no one to see/hear: my hands are clue-free; making them act separately from each other has seemed impossible. But ahhh, the allure!

Along with veggies, our farmers market has recently expanded to include other odd items: the Mali woman who sells her hand-made soaps also sells handmade djembe drums, and I've salivated over them, tapping them with a clumsy, shy clunk - wondering how to unleash the music.

I guess it's no surprise that I've spent yesterday afternoon and this morning searching out hand drum videos on you tube, buying downloads from Amazon, and jumping around in my chair while learning to keep both hands moving on beat as I tap simple rhythms on my desk top!

I wonder how far the sound of a djembe would carry through the Michigan woods?