One night, I found myself at an underground samba nightclub in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Loud, live, wonderfully rhythmic music, a maze of beautiful people, and a staggering quantity of delicious looking beverages of all colors and flavors plastered the senses. I was sitting at a table up on a balcony taking it all in and watching people like usual and sipping something fruity. Out of nowhere, a woman approached my table and invited a few of us onto the dance floor. I obviously resisted. In a heavy accent, she luringly insisted. “I don’t dance” I said. “I’m not a dancer.” She stopped in her tracks and looked at me sternly. “Everyone is a dancer” she said. And the next thing I knew, I was in the middle of scores of sweaty Brazilians trying to dance samba. I had no idea what I was doing. I still don’t. But I danced.
On another occasion, I was in the car with somebody I used to know and I was singing along to a song. I knew this person knew the song. I knew they loved the song and listened to it regularly. I paused it. “Why don’t you sing along with this song?” I asked. “I’m not a singer” she said. I looked at her probably the same way the Brazilian girl looked at me that night in Rio. I remember telling her how ridiculous that was. She could sing, but she never did.
I have been a drummer for more than 25 years. I starting hitting things when I was 5, and started taking lessons and doing it well when I was 10. In the world of drumming, it’s pretty easy to impress people. If you can make a basic beat or hit things quickly and loudly, people usually respond with a grin. Why? Because humans love drums. Throughout my life in music, many a time have I been approached by people saying things like, “That was great! I wish I could do that.” Or the classic yet completely inaccurate, “You’re so cool. I would love to be a drummer.” To these comments, I usually replied with something like, “What, drums? Oh, anyone can do it.” Or, “You can be a drummer, too!” Usually people just laugh and shrug.
It is common practice to observe and embrace our differences. This can be helpful especially when considering people’s diverse needs. But in some contexts, doesn’t it make more sense for us to focus on and explore our similarities? Volumes have been and could be written about the differences of the world’s peoples, but I propose a list of the opposite nature. Let’s start with three: Everyone’s a singer; everyone’s a dancer; everyone’s a drummer.
To me, the elements known as voice, movement, and rhythm are some of if not the most fundamental functions of our humanity. Since the Paleolithic, I’m pretty sure it is known even of the most ancient peoples and cultures that dance was a thing that they did. Music, in whatever way it is defined in eastern or western cultures, is inside all of us — even the deaf, the mute, and the lame. Children born in every nook of the world reach a certain age where they hear or feel sound and music and they begin moving (bouncing, bobbing, flapping, etc.). When they hear singing they will often make noises trying to imitate what their minds are interpreting. I hardly need to mention hitting things. Children hit anything with everything, including themselves and others, and adults usually want to. Therefore, it doesn’t take a PhD in anthropology, biochemistry, human development, or musicology to conclude that singing, dancing, and drumming are in our DNA. They help make us.
I always hear the following: “I’m absolutely terrible at singing.” “I’m tone deaf.” “I’m a miserable dancer.” “I look like a complete buffoon.” “I’m the most un-coordinated person ever.” These protests have absolutely no place in my mind. Your technical skill level has absolutely no impact on the simple truth that we are all dancers, singers, and drummers. Anyone can learn and improve. Did I mention when I danced at the samba club in Brazil that I made a complete fool of myself? Did I mention that even to this day I absolutely loathe dances? Not because I hate dancing per se, but because I fear what people think of my dancing. That’s probably the case with all of us. If you saw me behind the safely closed door of my room when I hear a new song that makes me move, your good opinion of me, if you have one, would likely be questioned in complete awe of my dancing pathos. When you’re alone and your jam comes on, I am willing to bet grand sums on the fact that you, even the most terrible of singers technically speaking, would sing. And when you rat-a-tat-tat with your fingers on the steering wheel or tabletop for any reason or cause whatever, you are drumming. Why? Because you are a drummer. Everyone is. Oh and tone deafness or amusia is actually quite rare. Most people just need a little practice.
Many of us, if not all, will continue to repress our artistic impulses of dance, song, and rhythm. But that in no way means that we can’t do it. So next time you find yourself humming a tune, bobbing your head, or patting your fingers on the table in that subdued manner you do, just remember the following truths: Everyone’s a singer, everyone’s a dancer, and everyone’s a drummer.
Dillon Boss 