Teach us why something is great

In My Humble Opinion
1

Do you have an area of expertise? Can you teach us to appreciate something in an actually informed way?

For instance: Is Neil Peart of Rush really a fantastic drummer? Could a drummer here articulate why?

OTOH, let’s not have this morph into a bunch of slams against the “great” things. I’d just like to find out why people appreciate some things. If you hate Peart, just let it ride.
To start, on a mundane subject:

The SAT Verbal test is a VERY good test. I’m not talking about its relevancy to a student’s success in college, but about the fact that the answer is THE answer, and all the wrong answers are demonstrably wrong, even to high school students who want to argue that their personal view is right and that there’s more than one way to look at the question.

Having written practice questions for this type of thing, I know that writing those tests took a lot of work.

2

Anything at all?

I’d try to teach people that Lucid dreaming is great, but it’s so long since I had one that I can’t access any feelings I had at the time in order to motivate me. The best I can do is quoting myself from another thread on the subject “Lucid dreaming is like being wide awake in a world with no consequences and no rules”

3

I guess I’ll make it more clear. Pretend you’re teaching a class on the subject. Why is this painting or artist great? Why is this other thing a great accomplishment or performance? Be geeky, just explain your jargon.

4

Drawing. Drawing is great. It doesn’t seem too great at the beginning, but trust me, it is. First you have this piece of blank paper and that, for me, is one of the most exciting parts . . . endless potential. Who knows what it will be? Angels descending over Jesus’ manger? Soldiers charging up a hill? Mom’s smile? The only one who knows for sure is you and, if we’re honest, even that’s not a sure thing.

You sit down and put pencil to paper. And begin. First it’s just a line. Then another. Then you move across the page and add another line. Slowly shapes emerge. You lick your lips and examine the skeletons of things to be. Almost invariably you erase something. Or draw over something else. But who cares? There are no mistakes when you’re daydreaming, and you’re not doing much else at this point. Besides, nobody will ever know.

Eventually your shapes are correct and positioned in proper relationship to each other. You have your vision now. All you have to do is convey it. Easy, right? Well, easier than most people think if you know the tricks and if you’ve mastered a few basic techniques.

You begin to flesh out those skeletons. Wouldn’t people be amazed if they knew half of it was just drawing–sometimes just scribbling–lines over other lines, shapes over other shapes? Wouldn’t people be amazed if they knew the other half of it was just sitting back, watching the picture take shape, imagining its future?

The shapes begin to look recognizable to other people. An oval grows a nose and what was once a forest of random lines becomes the beginning of a wild mane of hair. Faint cylinders become fingers, arms, legs. Breasts appear. The torso solidifies. Soon there stands before you an entire body. Erase a few lines and she loses the collection of faint squares and circles whence she came. Add some shading and she takes on–almost literally-- another dimension.

You sit back. You make a few corrections. You blend a few lines together. And then you’re done. Maybe a few minutes have gone by. Maybe a few hours. However long it took you, though, you have taken a few simple objects–paper and pencils–and used them to create something new and hopefully beautiful. The best of your work will be seen by others and if it inspires an emotional reaction in them you have succeeded in making the world a better place. The worst of your work, probably kept hidden in a secret box somewhere, will contain mistakes that the wise person can learn from, making you a better artist. But whether your drawing finds itself hanging in a museum or sitting on the bottom of a closet, it still represents time spent alone with your self, your thoughts, and your passions, all of which makes you a better person and thus improves the world.

It’s magic. It lets you create three-dimensional worlds on a two-dimensional surface. It allows you to render and make comprehensible to others galaxies and microbes and other things too large and too small to normally be seen. It allows you to communicate things for which there are no words and it lets you put souls on display.

Drawing. It’s wonderful.

5

I’d like to take up the subject of Neil Peart being a great drummer.

His more noticable qualities include fast single-stroke 1 fills 2 and “impossible” licks that actually fit the context somehow. His technical virtuosity is yet to be surpassed by most drummers in his vein.

The above statement merely touches on the fact that he is a great drummer in terms of certain displays of technical ability such as blinding speed and attention to meter.

In fact, there are no two ways about it. Neil Peart is a Great Drummer.

But there are other Great Drummers.

Ringo Starr is a great drummer. However, his style is radically different than that of Mr. Peart’s. Whereas Mr. Peart chooses to accompany and further push a song’s melodic line that is also falling within the appropriate meter, Mr. Starr follows the actual counted meter of the piece in question and keeps time using the critical beats, thus leaving the melodic line uninhibited where necessary. Both approaches are fine, depending on the piece.

Hal Blaine is easily within the qualifications of being a great drummer. His contributions to the songs are variable, and appropriately enough: He was the leading West-Coast session drummer during the late 60s and throughout the 1970s. While he certainly had (and has) chops 3 that any good drummer would appreciate, he put them to good use in only the right place. He always looked at the lyrics as well as the songs chart 4, custom tailoring his parts to fit the songs mood. Good examples of this practice can be heard on the Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows”, on which he plays a percolating rhythm on upside-down pop bottles with drumsticks, and Simon & Garfunkels’ “Bridge Over Troubled Water”, on which he “played” his cars snow-chains by dropping them on the floor on 2 and 4. 5

No “Great Drummer” list should dare be without the late Buddy Rich. He displayed both alarming taste and great proficiency with the rudiments 6 within one piece. His flamboyance was a fine complement to his more adventurous accomplisments with the drumkit, some of which include a rendition of “West Side Story” with the drums promiently featured as well his outstanding legacy of playing with his own big band and playing with many great artists over the years until his death in 1987.

I’ve failed to mention many, many great drummers. The massive abundance of great drummers is necessary; so many different styles of music are defined by different qualities that are best interpreted by those individuals who have abilities suited better to one kind of music than another (such as “rock” drummers and “jazz” drummers). To put it very simply, what fits the occasion is best. While Neil Peart is indeed a great drummer, there are many, many others who are just as great (and even more appropriate, in certain cases) for what they add and define.

  1. Playing one stroke per hand in succession, i.e. “L R L R L”

  2. A musical figure intended to break up a monotonous passage.

  3. A given tag to acquired skills within a certain context.

  4. A “road map” of a piece of music; tablature, numbered code, or otherwise.

  5. The backbeats of 4/4 (common time), i.e. “one and TWO and three and FOUR and…”

  6. In this case, a series of 40 defined patterns usually played on a snare drum, i.e. a paradiddle, “R L R R L R L L,” etc. Building blocks of technique.