Books, Movies, & Music | Jenna's Everything Blog

Oh, you didn’t know that Thornfield has a band manager?

Well let me introduce her. Her name is Ellie.

Now where could she be . . .

Napping with the equipment, of course.

You guys ready for the show, or what?

Now lemme look over that set list . . .

. . . okay, okay, I see where you’re going putting some of those newer songs up front . . .

She is exactly what you want a band manager to be–aggressive, assertive, fierce–and she doesn’t cut a deal that doesn’t benefit her.

She also has a mean set of feline teeth that may or may not have chomped down on my arm completely out of the blue. Hey! Are you trying to disable one of your musicians!? I challenged her. But she was unfazed.

I’m the queen. I’ll disable WHO I want to WHEN I want to.

Now what did you think of my proposal to change the band name from ‘Thornfield’ to ‘The Ellie 4ever Tribute Band’?

We had just ordered a bunch of new sound equipment, and the living room at Carrie and Eric’s was strewn with cables, mics, and who knows what else.

Ellie carefully inspected it. She gave everything the full sniff-down.

I was also playing the guitar at the gig for the first time, so she went over my instrument inch by inch.

It seems to check out . . . just make sure to tighten that B string. Did you change it recently? ‘Cause it’s looking a little loose to me.

She supervised all proceedings until every piece of equipment was packed into the car:

If she could just refrain from physically injuring the members of her band, everything would be quite perfect.

We have a new addition to our household!

His face is . . . goaty.

No, really. It’s made of goat skin.

He’s also very strappy, as you can see.

And he can be quite vociferous when walloped. I like walloping him.

This is my birthday present this year. I shimmied over to Andy’s Music store on Belmont Avenue last week in the blistering heat and talked the ears off 2 salesmen and 2 random customers in my sincere efforts to choose the best djembe possible.

For example, should I go for a synthetic skinned djembe or one with a real animal skin? And if I got the real animal skin, is goat or cow hide better? How hard is it to tune a djembe that has a rope system instead of metal screws you can just tighten or loosen with a key? How does the synthetic skin respond to heat and cold as opposed to animal skins? And while we’re at it, can I get a discount?

All 4 gentlemen were unanimous in their advice: go with the goat. Yes, it’s a heavier drum, it’s harder to tune, there’s no strap attached for my carrying ease, and it’s more expensive to replace the skin when you bust through it after a few years of use–but it’s simply a better instrument.

I tested the drums for an hour, and in the end, the musician in me couldn’t put future conveniences above the pure sound of the thing. I went with my heart and bought the djembe with the best dang sound.

I should also mention there was only a $5 price difference between the goaty and synthetic djembes, which made the decision a lot more straightforward. If the better instrument had required me to get a second mortgage or something, then better sound better schmound. I wouldna couldna dunnit. (Of course, not owning a house, the whole second mortgage thing would have been a bust anyway.)

I’m very new to percussion–my experience is limited to playing the tambourine at 10 years of age during summer camp and demurely shaking the egg shaker at church every now and then (as long as I can manage to sing at the same time–vrreeery challenging). Oh, and earlier this year I smacked around a tambourine on the morning of Easter Sunday, developing a string of painful blisters across my right hand that later turned into ugly little yellow callouses, which by the way looked more like a bizarre infection than a mark of musicianship. But other than that, percussion is a brand-spanking new world to me.

Keeping a good rhythm seems to require just the right amount of not-thinking, which is a very weird place to try to get my mind. Almost meditative, I guess. I’m sure it’s good for my brain, and also great practice for . . . something.

Like for . . . being sent to a nunnery against my will. Or being thrown unexpectedly into a solitary confinement chamber. You certainly never know when that’s going to happen. Or . . . like . . . um . . . like, if suddenly my life is on the line because I unwittingly fell into a nest of ninja fighters and the only way to throw off the killers is to go into a state of deep meditation as quickly as possible. Then I’ll be much more likely to get out alive.

I feel safer and more prepared to face the world already.

Anyway, the egg-shaking experience has been a great foray into percussion (and my learning journey with it is by no means over), but I need a little more to work with–something with good vibrations that I can hit hard.