Uploaded January 2016 | Updated September 2026, 1 week ago
Performed by Steve Reich and Musicians (1987, Duration 56:42)
Drumming is a piece by minimalist composer Steve Reich, dating from 1970–1971. Reich began composition of the work after a short visit to Africa and observing music and musical ensembles there, especially under the Anlo Ewe master drummer Gideon Alorwoyie in Ghana. His visit was cut short after contracting malaria. K. Robert Schwarz describes the work as "minimalism's first masterpiece."
The piece employs Reich's trademark technique of phasing. Phasing is achieved when two players, or one player and a recording, are playing a single repeated pattern in unison, usually on the same kind of instrument. One player changes tempo slightly, while the other remains constant, and eventually the two players are one or several beats out of sync with each other. They may either stay there, or phase further, depending on the piece.
In total, the work requires 9 percussionists. With the additional players, the piece can be performed by 12 or 13 players.
The work falls into four parts, with the following instrumentation used in each
Part One: 4 pairs of tuned bongo drums, played with double-ended wooden sticks (and one male voice, according to the original score)
Part Two: 3 marimbas, 2 or 3 female voices
Part Three: 3 glockenspiels, whistler, and piccolo
Part Four: complete ensemble
The length of the piece can vary widely, as the number of repeats taken on any given measure is up to the performers. Recordings of the piece span between 55 and 84 minutes.
The entire piece is structured around a single repeated rhythm, one measure of 12/8 long. This rhythm is built up note by note, in the "substitution of beats for rests" technique found in other of Reich's works such as Music for Pieces of Wood, Octet, Music for 18 Musicians, and others. After the rhythm is completely built up, two of the players phase to where they are playing the same pattern one quarter-note apart from each other, and the other bongo players play resulting patterns that can be heard as a result of the combination of the phased patterns.
The rest of the piece continues to use the techniques of beat/rest substitution, phasing, and resultant patterns through its four movements. The transitions consist as follows:
Movement 2 begins by three marimba players playing exactly the same repeated pattern as the bongo players, fading in while the bongo players fade out.
Movement 3 begins similarly; three glockenspiel players begin doubling the marimbas (which by now are playing in their upper ranges), fading in while the marimbas fade out.
Movement 4 begins after movement 3 reduces its texture to one glockenspiel player, playing a single repeated note from the original pattern. Marimba and bongo players join, and build the pattern up again, note by note, until all nine percussionists are playing. The piece ends abruptly, on cue.
Performed by Steve Reich and Musicians (1987, Duration 56:42)
Drumming is a piece by minimalist composer Steve Reich, dating from 1970–1971. Reich began composition of the work after a short visit to Africa and observing music and musical ensembles there, especially under the Anlo Ewe master drummer Gideon Alorwoyie in Ghana. His visit was cut short after contracting malaria. K. Robert Schwarz describes the work as "minimalism's first masterpiece."
The piece employs Reich's trademark technique of phasing. Phasing is achieved when two players, or one player and a recording, are playing a single repeated pattern in unison, usually on the same kind of instrument. One player changes tempo slightly, while the other remains constant, and eventually the two players are one or several beats out of sync with each other. They may either stay there, or phase further, depending on the piece.
In total, the work requires 9 percussionists. With the additional players, the piece can be performed by 12 or 13 players.
The work falls into four parts, with the following instrumentation used in each
Part One: 4 pairs of tuned bongo drums, played with double-ended wooden sticks (and one male voice, according to the original score)
Part Two: 3 marimbas, 2 or 3 female voices
Part Three: 3 glockenspiels, whistler, and piccolo
Part Four: complete ensemble
The length of the piece can vary widely, as the number of repeats taken on any given measure is up to the performers. Recordings of the piece span between 55 and 84 minutes.
The entire piece is structured around a single repeated rhythm, one measure of 12/8 long. This rhythm is built up note by note, in the "substitution of beats for rests" technique found in other of Reich's works such as Music for Pieces of Wood, Octet, Music for 18 Musicians, and others. After the rhythm is completely built up, two of the players phase to where they are playing the same pattern one quarter-note apart from each other, and the other bongo players play resulting patterns that can be heard as a result of the combination of the phased patterns.
The rest of the piece continues to use the techniques of beat/rest substitution, phasing, and resultant patterns through its four movements. The transitions consist as follows:
Movement 2 begins by three marimba players playing exactly the same repeated pattern as the bongo players, fading in while the bongo players fade out.
Movement 3 begins similarly; three glockenspiel players begin doubling the marimbas (which by now are playing in their upper ranges), fading in while the marimbas fade out.
Movement 4 begins after movement 3 reduces its texture to one glockenspiel player, playing a single repeated note from the original pattern. Marimba and bongo players join, and build the pattern up again, note by note, until all nine percussionists are playing. The piece ends abruptly, on cue.



![John CAGE: Two2
Performed by Rob HASKINS / Louis GOLDSTEIN
Composed in 1989. Premiered in New York, May 4, 1990.
This is one of Cage’s few “number” pieces that does not utilize time-brackets. Being inspired by a remark of Sofia Gubaidulina, i.e. There is an inner clock, Cage created a composition consisting of 36 lines of music, each containing 5 measures. Within each line, 31 events occur: 5+7+5+7+7, as in Japanese Renga poetry. The pianists play a measure in their own tempo, but the next measure may only be played when both have completed the previous.
In Two2 (1989), written for the pianists Edmund Niemann and Nurit Tilles performing together as the piano duo Double Edge, Cage unites these two themes—a new kind of harmony and renga—in a marvelous way. One finds all manner of sonorities in this work: various triads and seventh chords, triads with other added notes, dissonances with two, three, or more notes, even single tones. More interesting, however, is the fact that so many chords—even identical successions of chords—recur in the piece. The manner of their overall succession, of course, is determined by chance procedures and performance, which guarantee a nebulous ordering that offers a modicum of coherence without any predictability whatsoever.[11] And so the logic of recurrence in Two2 resembles the way that our different friends and acquaintances pass in and out of our lives—a continuity that doesn’t make conventional sense but is meaningful nevertheless.
More about Cages works on http://www.robhaskins.net/ John CAGE: Two2](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/L_yXK5F-Lmo/mqdefault.jpg)

![Morton FELDMAN: The King of Denmark
Realized by Max Neuhaus.
This recording should be played at very low volume - so that you almost dont hear it.
In many ways, The King of Denmark is an anti-percussion piece. It is to be played very softly using only the hand and fingers - no sticks or mallets. Its notation on a graph indicates how many sounds are to be played per beat and whether they are to be in high, medium, or low registers. Even though a tempo runs throughout, no rhythmic coherence emerges. Sounds simply float out, detached and weightless. One instrument has no more sonic gravity than another does. A small bell weighs the same - takes up the same acoustical space - as a large gong. An auditory illusion follows: close your eyes and you can imagine that the instruments are being played at their natural volumes. They are sounds in many different loudnesses, but they are being heard from different distances. The gong is really forte but it is heard from the distance of fifty yards. It sounds as soft as the little bell six inches from your ear. Mirages of distance appear and evaporate again into music. It is like rain or the sound of rain.
These illusions come from Feldmans love of the pulsating but rhythmically directionless canvases of Mark Rothko and other American Abstract Expressionists. Directionlessness is key here. The King of Denmark is music that refuses to dictate the way it should be perceived. It does not light a particular way nor lead you by the ear like an angry headmaster along a corridor of preferred comprehension. It simply floats in timeless ether to be looked at from any angle, any proximity, any point of view. Samuel Beckett, writing much later, in 1975, with no particular thought towards Feldman, comes closest to the heart of the King of Denmark:
only dust and not a sound only what was it it said come and gone was that it something like that come and gone come and gone no one come and gone in no time gone in no time. [from That Time (1975)] Morton FELDMAN: The King of Denmark](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/MQmDrHs9oXo/mqdefault.jpg)




