This week: Don't forget
Awakening the Wild Woman Within
AND
Evolution of the Drum Circle & Alchemuse Drum & Dance Celebration at Double Rainbow Ranch
Hope to see you there!
I leave for my NE Tour on Sunday, off to
Drum & Splash in PN
Starwood Festival in OH
Syrius Rising in NY
Summerland in NY
and more...
Keep in touch and The Muse Network is coming very soon, so stay posted and start sending me resources, links and events to post on the Muse Network for you until we are ready to launch it fully to the world!
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Upcoming Event: June 26
4:30 pm - 6:30 PM - Evolution of the Drum Circle - $30
Applications and Teachings for Better Drum Circles & Community Music Making
8 PM- 11 PM **OPEN COMMUNITY ALCHEMUSE FIRE DRUM & DANCE CELEBRATION
OPEN TO ALL MUSICIANS.. bring sound equipment if you need it!***
7 PM POTLUCK, 8 PM Open Circle $10
This experiential workshop offers an in depth look at drum circle dynamics: past, present and future. Be sure to bring your instruments, a notepad and your wisdom to share with us!
In this workshop we will:
*Explore Ancient Methods of Drum and Dance Cultures around the world
*Examine Current Paradigms for Drum Circles
*Learn Tools to help Evolve and Transform your Community Drum Circles
*Learn the 10 Conscious Considerations for Better Recreatioinal Music Making
*Learn the 4 Building Blocks for Building better Drum Circles
*Have fun, meet new people who share your desire for better and more creative drumming experiences!
Friday, June 4, 2010
Poem from A Florida Drummer
AN AMERICAN DRUM CIRCLE
We all arrive gradually,
Slowly form a circle under the trees,
Talking in the breeze,
Not breaking our inertia.
Out across the circle,
Someone reaches for his hand drum,
Strikes idle notes that turn into a rhythm.
Ears prick up;
Sounds like he’s on to something;
One or two others pick up their drums.
Up strike the djun-djuns,
Bass drums of Africa;
Mellow, singing bass drums
Almost like marimbas.
They get a-goin’
Goin’ on a rhythm,
Rhythm like a river;
We’re all embarked on it.
Someone’s brought his congas,
Rich, full and round sound,
Building on the djun-djuns,
Rounding out the rhythm.
Djembes everywhere,
Stemmed cups of wood that serve a heady vintage—
The boom and the clang,
The boom and the clang;
Exultation under drummers’ hands.
Tones of an ashiko drum
Meshing with the djembes,
Strong, compelling bass
That stirs us into action.
A crowd gathers round now,
Drawn by the drum-song.
This is what they came for:
Waiting for the drummers
To carry them away.
A woman stands up,
Shakes back her hair,
Steps into the ring,
Begins to dance.
Another looks on;
Her mind is made up now;
She stands and she steps.
Two sisters dancing now,
Exchanging smiles of welcome;
Two sisters dancing—
Another one—
Three!
Someone strikes a tambourine,
Claves, bell or wood block;
Deft punctuation;
The song takes on an accent.
Someone’s drumming hot now,
Strikes up a solo,
A dazzling, crackling rattle;
The rhythm undergirds him,
Rich, sustaining rhythm;
He feeds from his brothers,
His brothers and his sisters;
We all feed from him;
All caught up in it,
Caught up to glory;
We’re rising—
We’re rising—
We rise and we soar!
The drummers start to dance now,
Dancing behind their drums,
Dancing in their harness.
Rooted in their places,
Takes a lot to get them moving,
But still, every now and then
There’s just no stopping it.
Accents come from everywhere,
Like nature roused to chorus—
Bells and tambourines ring,
Woodblocks and claves’ clink,
Rods and shakers rattle;
Someone plays a flute.
Other musicians come out with their instruments;
A blare of saxophones,
A peal of horns;
They want to take part in it.
The drums sink low now,
Thunder held in deference,
Restrained to accompany
Some delicate notes—
Soft boom of didgeri-doo,
Guitar’s gentle song,
Gliding of violin,
Set to muted thunder.
The drums rise up again,
Take up their ascendancy,
Rolling and booming out,
A wild exultation.
The solo rings out again,
A full crescendo crashing out,
Crashing and soaring out,
Rising up to climax.
At last the drums fall silent;
We bask in the afterglow,
Shake the tingle from our hands, quench our thirst, talk in the gentle breeze;
The circle drifts apart.
Then out across the circle,
Someone reaches for his hand drum,
Strikes idle notes that turn into a rhythm.
Ears prick up;
Sounds like he’s on to something.
One or two others pick up their drums.
We all start drifting back;
This new rhythm’s rising
To sweep us up once more.
© 2005 Daniel Gedamke. All rights reserved.
We all arrive gradually,
Slowly form a circle under the trees,
Talking in the breeze,
Not breaking our inertia.
Out across the circle,
Someone reaches for his hand drum,
Strikes idle notes that turn into a rhythm.
Ears prick up;
Sounds like he’s on to something;
One or two others pick up their drums.
Up strike the djun-djuns,
Bass drums of Africa;
Mellow, singing bass drums
Almost like marimbas.
They get a-goin’
Goin’ on a rhythm,
Rhythm like a river;
We’re all embarked on it.
Someone’s brought his congas,
Rich, full and round sound,
Building on the djun-djuns,
Rounding out the rhythm.
Djembes everywhere,
Stemmed cups of wood that serve a heady vintage—
The boom and the clang,
The boom and the clang;
Exultation under drummers’ hands.
Tones of an ashiko drum
Meshing with the djembes,
Strong, compelling bass
That stirs us into action.
A crowd gathers round now,
Drawn by the drum-song.
This is what they came for:
Waiting for the drummers
To carry them away.
A woman stands up,
Shakes back her hair,
Steps into the ring,
Begins to dance.
Another looks on;
Her mind is made up now;
She stands and she steps.
Two sisters dancing now,
Exchanging smiles of welcome;
Two sisters dancing—
Another one—
Three!
Someone strikes a tambourine,
Claves, bell or wood block;
Deft punctuation;
The song takes on an accent.
Someone’s drumming hot now,
Strikes up a solo,
A dazzling, crackling rattle;
The rhythm undergirds him,
Rich, sustaining rhythm;
He feeds from his brothers,
His brothers and his sisters;
We all feed from him;
All caught up in it,
Caught up to glory;
We’re rising—
We’re rising—
We rise and we soar!
The drummers start to dance now,
Dancing behind their drums,
Dancing in their harness.
Rooted in their places,
Takes a lot to get them moving,
But still, every now and then
There’s just no stopping it.
Accents come from everywhere,
Like nature roused to chorus—
Bells and tambourines ring,
Woodblocks and claves’ clink,
Rods and shakers rattle;
Someone plays a flute.
Other musicians come out with their instruments;
A blare of saxophones,
A peal of horns;
They want to take part in it.
The drums sink low now,
Thunder held in deference,
Restrained to accompany
Some delicate notes—
Soft boom of didgeri-doo,
Guitar’s gentle song,
Gliding of violin,
Set to muted thunder.
The drums rise up again,
Take up their ascendancy,
Rolling and booming out,
A wild exultation.
The solo rings out again,
A full crescendo crashing out,
Crashing and soaring out,
Rising up to climax.
At last the drums fall silent;
We bask in the afterglow,
Shake the tingle from our hands, quench our thirst, talk in the gentle breeze;
The circle drifts apart.
Then out across the circle,
Someone reaches for his hand drum,
Strikes idle notes that turn into a rhythm.
Ears prick up;
Sounds like he’s on to something.
One or two others pick up their drums.
We all start drifting back;
This new rhythm’s rising
To sweep us up once more.
© 2005 Daniel Gedamke. All rights reserved.
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