Word: cymbals
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...double-CD set opens with “Shaker” (from the 1993 album of the same name), a churning pot of jangly guitars that threatens to boil over as each tinny cymbal clang and distorted chord is added to the brew. The song is all twitchy, nervous-tic buildup; I’m searching here for a modern mainstream reference point, but coming up empty. This song, and those to follow, have a rich mellow ambience that no radio-friendly band has managed to emulate, but it’s notable that these tunes could fit comfortably...
...Fantasia in G, BWV 572,” originally written for organ. The richness of the low brass made this atypical arrangement convincing, although anyone seeking to envision it as authentic was jarringly shaken back into the twenty-first century with the crashing cymbal...
...hedonistic invitation to ?shake that thing.? The song?s break from earlier Charles work was evident from the first note: on an electric piano that sounded like a guitar with a mitten muffling the strings. It was blues, all right, but with a Latin accent, thanks to great cymbal, conga and stick work by Milt Turner. It featured his urgent vocal, but not until almost 50 seconds into the song. The complex simplicity of the number made it seem both roughhouse and pristine...
...only setback to playing the cymbals is that it takes two hands. I can’t take notes. And I’m so nervous that I can’t fully absorb the experience. I could be missing some crucial togetherness and community that making a unified sound creates, unity that transcends the loneliness and competition of college. But I am not unified. I am a beat behind and I keep missing notes. A bass drum player arrives late and squeezes in next to me in the concert shell (technical term for the vague semi-circle...
...point Joshua H. Rissmiller ’06, the student conductor, leaves his perch on a bench to warn me to be careful with the big cymbal crashes on a song called “Veritas.” I sit out the first round and then, feeling confident, go for a big crash when I see Creel ready to lean forward into one. I stop to congratulate myself on this triumphant sound—and promptly miss several more crashes. At this point, even the sundress-clad toddlers may suspect I am faking...