Bolokada Conde Djembe Class at Skinny Beats

The Masterful Bolokada Conde at work. Djembe Kan at the Channing Murray Chapel in Urbana, IL, March 2012. Recorded by Sonny Stubble.

There's nothing else like spending over an hour on a rainy Sunday afternoon in Asheville with the djembe master from Guinea, West Africa, the incomparable, world-renowned Bolokada Conde. No, really. Nothing.

Anita and I were fortunate to experience two performances and attend a previous dejembe class hosted by Skinny Beats Drum Shop in Asheville with Bolokada over the past two years. But, this class was a bit more special for me since I was, because of nerve damage in my right wrist that prevents me from playing hand drums like the djembe, allowed to play another West African drum called the doundounba, translated as "big drum" from the Malinke' language, during the class.

The doundounba, which is played with a rather thick drum stick, is typically about 30 inches in length, about 24 inches in diameter and is played horizontally on a stand.  For a right-handed player like me, the right hand plays the skin (usually made from goat or cow hide) while the left hand plays a bell mounted on the drum with a small metal stick. The doundounba, along with its drum cousins, the medium sized sangban, and the even smaller kenkeni, are usually played as a drum ensemble providing a solid, constant rhythm "base" or bed for the djembe player(s). In this particular class the sangban was played by Skinny Beat Drum Shop owner, Billy Zanski, one of Bolokada's students who studied in Africa with him. Another female student was there at class to play the kenkeni.

I was the only one of the three with absolutely no experience playing the doundounba - none, zero, nada. Me, standing closely behind and a bit to the right of The Djembe Master of the World. Had I, once again, bitten off more than I could chew? Would I choke? There seemed to be a good possibility that I would not be able to perform my role as The World's Most Inexperienced Doundounfola (one who plays doundoun).

Bolokada quickly gave me the beat I was supposed to play, I tried it a few times (all with mistakes), and he moved on to Billy on the sangban and the woman on kenkeni who both played their parts correctly with no trouble.

I'm dead, I thought, and I have entered musical Hell.

It was like standing behind Eric Clapton with my little electric bass strapped around my neck and being expected to accompany Slow Hand with a steady bass riff as he gives a class on the finer points of playing blues guitar. Except that at least I have heard a lot of blues tunes, Eric Clapton's playing is usually in 4/4 tempo, and I have been playing bass guitar for years. The music of West Africa is, may I humbly admit, foreign to me, which is ironically why I wanted to take the class in the first place. I had no idea that I would be required to provide a consistent metronome-like tempo for the class. Yikes, indeed! 

Well, to make a long story short, at the very least I didn't give up. Luckily, Billy Zanski was right behind me prompting the downbeat (or was it the upbeat?) whenever I completely lost it even though he continued playing his sangban with a different rhythm pattern than mine. I owe him my life, or at least my confidence to finish the class without bursting into tears and running from the store in embarrassment.

The best part was that Billy told me that I "nailed it". I know he lied but he is a very nice and talented man.  Bolokada turned to me at the end of class and flashed me a big smile with an enthusiastic thumbs up. I really couldn't ask for more encouragement from likely The World's Best Djembefola. Great teachers encourage learning while letting you see their true genius as an attainable goal for even a mere novice like me. If I could only live another 50 years, maybe.

So, I think I'll take a few more lessons, perhaps from Billy at Skinny Drums, and see if there really is an old African guy buried somewhere deep within my Irish brain.

The John Fred Prazen Canjo

The John Fred Prazen, My First Kodakaster Electrified

The addition of a piezo pickup complete with volume control and 1/4 inch guitar cable jack to my John Fred Prazen film canjo seems to be a success so far. It works!!! I plugged it into my DigiTech RP 1000 Guitar Multi-Effects Pedal and and my little Fender Rumble 15 practice amp and, oh my, what a unique sound came from just a few sliding chords with my brass slider.

I put it back together, attached an old camera case strap with nylon chord and, presto! I got me a funky, rustic, three-string, electrified chord banger.

Sonic Duo

Introducing my personal link to the past, my 1963 Fender Duo Sonic

To tell the truth, I don’t even remember buying it, but it was in 1971 when, as a poor film student in LA, I was motivated to spend $65 of my hard-won cash on an old, really beat up Fender Duo Sonic electric guitar. It worked OK with it’s two single wound pickups, plastic pic guard and chromed tone/volume knobs. But the paint was chipping off badly in many places. It actually looked like it had been dragged behind a car for a good while with enough road damage to reveal that three different colors had adorned the solid, Strat-shaped alder body during its life.

Of course, today, road worn vintage guitars of many makers get added value for looking “road worn”, and intentionally ding up beautiful, newly-manufactured classic models to increase their values.  I don’t get it. Yes, I admit it increases their value with certain prople who give a shout about that kind of thing.

Well, I’m sorry, but to me, road-worn equals damaged crap and always has, so that’s when I decided to strip the paint off the body and to attempt a “refinish”, I think it’s called.

The original layers of paint were VERY difficult to remove and took hours of applying the remover goo, scraping the nasty stuff off, and continually washing the remover off my hands since it was so corrosive. I remember that I considered quitting trying to remove the paint several times but, being a film student with some free time, I trudged ahead.  My only regret is that I took no pics of the process with my Pentax Spotmatic 35mm.  I do have this one pic taken in my Hollywood apartment of me playing it but it was taken before my “re-finishing” job. The guitar was blue, the last coat anyway. Red and white where below that, but then finally, just wood.

So, in the tradition of the greatest luthiers, I roughly sanded off the wood surface, stained it walnut with cheap house stain, and liked it much better even though, today, with the market for old really “road worn” guitars, the 1963 Pre-CBS Duo Sonic that I have would probably be worth maybe $1,200 or so since, besides the paint removal and subsequent staining default, it is still a working model with stock parts.  So, in my Woody Allen-ish-ness, I’m pretty sure that by removing the old paint and staining the wood, I actually decreased its value quite a bit..

But, I wouldn’t sell it anyway. And, here’s why. 

I really like that little guitar. Originally designed as a student guitar, the Duo Sonic is light, and it has a scaled down maple neck, so with my stubby little digits, it allows me to reach a bit farther on the chords. The other good news is that the Duo Sonic guitars, in 1963, were manufactured in the same plants, by the same people, with the same materials and to the same standards as all the solid body Strats, Teles, and other solid-body guitars in the Fender line at that time. That's not a bad thing.

It’s really a sturdily built guitar, which is really a good thing considering the lack of attention it has gotten in the 40 plus years I've had it, most of the time not even having the comfort of even a gig bag for protection. Poor thing.

It always works and I don’t know why. The only things I have done for the guitar has been an occasional dusting and finally a new set of strings in over 40 years. But, hey, I didn’t want to over-do the care either.

But, recently I have been thinking that I owe that Duo a bit of gratitude for sticking with me all these years of Neil Young jams (with Neil's recordings, of course) and infrequent practicing.

So, I’ve given her a nice cleaning with shea butter (smells nice, too). I took her to see Asheville’s own Guitar Mama for a good going-over, and the new set of stings I mentioned earlier. (I don’t want you to think that I may have changed the strings two times in 40 years. Oh no, only once.) The Guitar Mama, Autumn, said "It's a nice little guitar - you should keep it", which is a pretty generous appraisal since her store is an Authorized Stringed Instrument Warranty Service Center for Fender Musical Instruments and Autumn is a well-qualified luthier.

I am practicing with the Duo Sonic more often now and having some fun with it, but I do respect its age, even though I was in high school when it was born in California, so it couldn’t be that old. 

Could it?

BTW, did I mention that Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughn owned and played Duo Sonics?

Part of my stringed collection

Detail of the Kodakaster

Here's how the Kodakaster Film Canjo sounds just playing around the day I put on the strings.

Hopefully I will get better at playing it.

The Kodakaster Is Born

My version of the venerable Kodakaster 3 string Film Canjo.

I've moved my dozen or so collection of film cans with me from being a film student, working for various employers, and finally with my own film production company because I figured that I'd find a use for them someday.

And, that day came last week when I received a pretty cherry wood cigar-box-guitar neck, and assorted tuners and other hardware that I bought online from Cigar Box Nation and C.B Gitty Crafter Supply.

Picking the appropriate can from my small collection was easier than I thought since one can had the original laboratory label identifying it as having held the negatives from a documentary Anita and I shot about a metal sculptor, the late John Fred Prazen of Salt Lake City, in the early 1970's. I wanted to keep my first attempt at canjo building, so the one that had held Fred's film had the most history with me since he was such a good guy. So, I built the Kodakaster with Fred's can.

I finished the cherry neck with poly urethane, attached the hardware and can, and I even installed a resonator inside the film can in the form of a 16mm 400ft roll can attached to the back. This addition does seem to have a real effect on the tone of the canjo which, as you might expect from the shape and materials, sounds like a cross between a banjo and a dobro.

I slapped on some old strings this afternoon, tuned it to DAd, donned my glass finger slide and dug right in.  Well, so far it sounds pretty good, but you'll have to give me a few days before I'll release any recording using the 3-string Kodakaster.

I'll probably attach a piezo pup soon too, to see how it sounds amplified.  Or maybe I'll point a mic at it and see how it sounds recorded acoustically. (to listen to recording click here)

It's pretty lightweight but seems rugged enough.  Besides, with this kind of home-made instrument, nicks and scruffs add to the patina, right?

I like it. I guess I'll keep it. And, I do have five more film cans . . . hummmm . . . 

Plectrum Rainbow

My Lifetime Supply of guitar pics, almost all Fender.

Many of these picks are older than some of my friends.

Mini Loud

Small But Mighty

A few days before I bought my Cigar Box Guitar from Milton Cable, I ordered one of the coolest little musical tools I’ve seen recently - a Supro® High-Gain Mini Amp. It works very well on my CBG and my two other Fender electric guitars.

This small amplifier, powered by a single 9-volt battery, fills in the gap between no amp and a larger practice amp.  When used with instruments that have a volume control, the Supro needs no additional power to blast out your musical efforts on its 1-watt two-inch speaker. 

Encased in an ultra-durable black polycarbonate box, the box distorts like crazy at full volume, or backs off to a clean reproduction at middle to lower volumes ranges. Just plug in your guitar cable, and let 'er rip!

Plus, any 4, 8 or 16 ohm speaker cabinet (including even a 4x12) can be powered by a Supro mini amp. You can also use one on the input of another amp as a fuzz box. Small enough to fit into your shirt pocket, the Supro mini amp is really convenient to carry around stuffed in your pocket or guitar case accessory pocket.

It’s only 4 X 2 1/4 X 1 1/4 inches, but loud enough for busking or practice anywhere. It even comes complete with a Duracell Battery, and can be purchased “direct” from Zinky Electronics located in Flagstaff, Arizona. And, yes, surprisingly enough, it is made in America.

It was shipped to me the same day I made the purchase (a very simple process on the Zinky website). Bruce Zinky (the owner of Supro) also makes a nice variety of high-quality electric guitars and amplifiers in the USA for professional musicians. And, their customer service is handled by Bruce Zinky himself so, if there is any issue or question about your Supro mini amp, Bruce is your man. Check them out.

At $33.95 you can’t afford not to pickup at least one of these little beauties.