Recently, the sound and audiovisual equipment was stolen from our church’s Family Life Center, where worship services are being held while the sanctuary is remodeled. The nice Roland electronic drum set we use in worship services was taken. When I learned of the theft, I felt disappointed, but not feel the sense of loss I expected. 

I realized it would have been a hurtful loss if I lost my 1967 Ludwig snare, mid-70s Slingerland set, or any acoustic drum set because an attachment to the instrument grows when you play it. For me, that same attachment to the instrument doesn’t seem to form when playing electronic drums. 

Sometimes strong feelings come because of an emotional attachment or story connected to the instrument, as is true with our upright piano, a wedding gift from me to my wife. It’s also true for the guitar I play every day, a gift from my mother. An acoustic instrument is a piece of the physical world but unique because it holds the potential for music. 

Playing an acoustic drum adds vibration to the space and is very satisfying. Sometimes it even resonates in your chest. The sounds and responses for each drum and cymbal seem endless depending on where your stick contacts the instrument and the emotional content delivered by the physical touch. 

I think of electronic drums as triggers more than instruments. The woven striking surfaces (drum heads) are fun to play, and electronic drums are convenient tools in some settings, but I can easily play softer or louder than the triggers recognize which can be frustrating.

I’m not opposed to electronic instruments, but I feel a sense of thankfulness when I play instruments with strings, stretched batter heads, and hollow resonating spaces where sounds are born.