When I arrived at the US Armed Forces School of Music I was as cocky as one could be. I was one of the best marimba players in the world, a legend in my own mind. Actually, I was good and could sight read anything, even transpose on the spot; but looking back now, it was the ego that got me into trouble.
There were several other Percussionist who were starting classes with me, but I knew I was the best of the bunch. I remember talking to my mom over the phone and bragging that I would test out of the school and head off to the premier band in DC. Words I would later eat.
To qualify for the band, a musician must pass three auditions. The first is before you enlist, the second when you first arrive at the school of music and the last is your final exam. Students have only a single chance for the first and third audition, but fortunately, we had two chances for the second. Fail the second or third and the Army sends you anywhere it needs a body. Three of my friends failed the second test, one went to tank school, one to the infantry and another became a helicopter mechanic. I did not fear the reaper because I was invincible.
Test day came and I entered the audition room. The test involved playing the snare, the marimba and the drum set. I wasn’t a very good drum set player, so I knew I would fail that portion of the test, but I would ace the other two; besides I was going to become the next marimba soloist in the DC Band, not a drum set player.
Two instructors were administering the audition (don’t remember their names). She was also a marimba player, a VERY good player at that. We had played some duets over the previous two weeks and became good friends. He was a drum set officianto. I was very impressed by how well he played the drum set. He even had pictures with him and Billy Cobam (a famous drummer).
“Which instrument would you like to start with?” She asked.
I figured first impressions are the best impressions, “Marimba.”
He said, “Ok, please play a C major scale.”
I did.
He asked, “Please play that two octaves.”
I did.
She said, “Great, lets move to drum set.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Don’t you want to hear more Marimba?”
“No,” she replied. “We know you can play the mallet instruments.”
By the time we finished the drum set debacle, I was so rattled that I didn’t even do all that well on the snare. I had failed my second audition. They told me I had two weeks to get ready for my second, and last try.
I was heart broken. How could I learn how to play drum set and pass a professional audition in two weeks? Plus school was starting, so I only had the evenings to practice.
The first couple of days were a blur as I sat in the practice rooms trying to get a grove. Down the hall I could hear Private Webb playing. Webb was an amazing drum set player from North Carolina. He had been playing drum set his entire life and it showed.
The drumming stopped and I heard a knock on my door, it was Webb.
“Hey Bejarana, I hear you didn’t pass.”
“Nope.”
“They told me I have to play a Marimba solo at my third audition or they will make me retake the school. Can you help me?” “I’ll teach you to play the drum set, you teach me how to play this solo.”
Webb knew my time constraints and started helping right away, even before I agreed to his proposition. Webb asked me to play a straight 4 beat. Then he said play something in a 3 beat. After I played, he pulled out his note book a scratched out some rhythms. He wrote notes on the bottom line that represented the bass drum part, had “x’s” on the top line to represent hitting the hi-hat, notes in the third space for the snare and slashes on the second and third line and second space for the tom-toms. Above the staff he wrote an R with a stem for the right side crash and an L with a stem for the left side crash. He said, “leave out the ride cymbal for now.”
Webb had me get up and he sat down and played each of the rhythms he had written out. Then gave me a few tips on how to better hold my sticks and made a few adjustments to the set height. He then told me to practice these beats.
Classes would let out around 3pm, I would grab a quick bite to eat then hit the practice room until midnight. At 5am I would wake, shower, shave and head back to the practice room until roll call at 7:30. Breakfast at 8:30, first class at 9:15 and so went the rest of my day.
By Friday I was playing basic rhythms, adding basic fills, and keeping the beat; but I needed a breakout rhythm, something that was challenging but showed off my abilities to learn quickly. Webb played a Latin beat called a Mozambique. After watching Webb play it for about ten minutes while I took dictation, scribbling out every beat, I hit the practice room and for the next three days did nothing but the Mozambique.
Audition day part two arrived and it felt like the entire school was pulling for me. Two weeks of 19 hour days become the talk of the school. My instructors even took notice and some gave me extra time in the practice room. My ear training professor showed the greatest level of mercy and allowed me to spend two full class sessions practicing.
Same two instructors giving the audition but this time I needed only play the drum set. No questions were in my mind as to what I would be playing. The one instructor had even given me a preview of the song I would be playing. The instructors named off three different rhythms for me to play, a straight rock 4 pattern, a Bosa Nova and a 6/8 funk. I performed all three to their level of satisfaction. Then came the instrumental track. I needed to sight read a chart against a song that had the drum track removed. I didn’t do it perfect and the male instructor highlighted a couple areas that needed improvement. Then came the solo.
To say the rest of my life as a musician began the moment I successfully played a Mozambique would be an understatement. When I finished played the cheers of my friends listening through the door was all the recognition I needed to know I would have a third audition in six months.
Private Webb and about a dozen other friends were waiting outside the door. I had passed the audition, but more importantly I learned a valuable life lesson. Sometimes arrogance and confidence can be confused, the way you can tell them apart is:
- arrogance keeps you from self improvement.
- confidence is the strength to succeed.
Ed Bejarana
