Where Do I Start? Tips for Starting (And Keeping) Your Own Percussion Group

"How do you do something like this?"

That is the most common question we get from students while we're on tour as Metaphor Percussion Duo.

The funny thing is that the answer is both simple, and not.

It’s simple in the sense that there’s no secret formula. We didn’t study with the biggest names, and we didn't study in the most world-famous conservatories. We went to a good program, had a down-to-earth teacher who supported us, and started building a duo with what we had: our ideas, and a willingness to figure things out as we went. After two years, we don't operate with a team of people, an agent, or an exorbitant list of connections. It's just the two of us, and most things are home-made.

Truly, anybody can do this with the right mindset, students and professionals alike. In this post we'll outline five steps that you can take when getting your own project off the ground:

1. Find your identity

2. Say yes to (almost) everything

3. Network

4. Create a routine

5. Longevity

Find Your Identity

The most common barrier that students run into when forming a group is the question of identity. It's just like trying to start a business: what's your purpose? What will make you stand out? As a musical group, what will your sound be, and what will people know you for?

Metaphor was a pipe dream that started during my doctorate at the University of Oklahoma. My husband, Jordan, had graduated from the same percussion program a year earlier (we actually met while sharing an office) and we had always enjoyed playing together. For my second DMA recital in April 2023, we put together a couple of duo pieces, and something about that experience stuck. It just worked. After that recital, we found ourselves asking "what if we took this seriously? What if this wasn’t just something we did occasionally, but something we did full time?"

The problem was, we had no idea where to start either. We didn’t know what our musical identity was as a duo, or what we wanted to represent. In the professional world, how could we stand out from dozens of other groups?

If you are like we were and don't have an answer to that question, that's okay. Just start by getting in the room and playing together.

We tackled it head on by literally just going to the OU Fine Arts Library and checking out every duo we could find, and just played over the Summer. And played. And played. And what we eventually figured out is that the instrumentation and genre didn't matter. We felt the magic playing together regardless of what the music was, which opened up a new idea. If we enjoyed a diverse repertoire, maybe we could just have diverse programs. Instead of being known for landmark performances of existing works, we wanted to bring a sense of freshness to the repertoire and collaborate with composers from all walks of life: emerging voices, established artists, and everyone in between.

When it came to choosing a name, Jordan's favorite answer is "Pancakes". And what he means by that is that it came to us while eating breakfast at an iHop in Norman. I had mentioned the word "Metaphor" in a sentence, and he said "that's it. That's the name."

And to this day, there's not really a deeper meaning. What we like about it is that rather than getting caught up in the "lore", so to speak, our hope is that our craft becomes synonymous with our name. When you see "Metaphor Percussion", you know you can expect a great concert.

Say Yes to (Almost) Everything

So if you’ve figured out your group's identity, the next question can be a little daunting: where will you find your first public platform? The good news is, you don’t necessarily need to have that figured out from the start. Sometimes the opportunities present themselves, and you should take them whether or not they're inconvenient. When trying to find a place for your first foray into the public scene, some excellent places to begin are: your alma maters. Your friends. Local schools. Neighboring universities.

Our first performance was originally planned as a concert in New Mexico, visiting the studio of a former colleague who had just moved there to start a new teaching position. The school was small, so the compensation was free lodging, but so was our budget and number of venues to perform in public while being relatively unknown, so we loved this trade-off. Our professor had even agreed to let us use school equipment, and we would make the drive over Spring Break so it didn't interfere with my graduate assistant responsibilities. The concert eventually turned into a multi-day residency that would happen towards the end of that week. Cool, right? It gets crazier.

Around the same time, Jordan and I (on opposite sides of the country) were deep in the process of preparing repertoire for my final DMA recital when a new school policy was introduced: only currently enrolled students were allowed to perform on student recitals. That conveniently now forbade Jordan from playing on my event.

Instead of scrapping the repertoire, our teacher suggested a clever idea: put together a concert at the university, and then reach out to neighboring schools to see if we could get a little mileage out of it.

We loved the idea and immediately reached out to schedule it with the department coordinator. The only available date? That Friday—just four days after my recital, and right before our planned New Mexico residency. Add in the extra madness of my dissertation draft being due to my committee the day after my recital.

Now this is that pivotal moment I talked about where you and your friends might have to make some hard choices, especially if you are students. School doesn't stop for professional aspirations. If you want it, you'll find a way to make it happen. I made a decision in that moment that I wanted Metaphor to succeed so badly that I was willing to suck it up.

After a long conversation, we realized the opportunity was too good to pass up, so we committed. And once we made that decision, everything snowballed. If we were already driving to New Mexico, why not reach out to a few nearby universities, just as our teacher suggested?

We started with the closest university in Texas. One “yes” led to the next, and then another. Before long, we had built a three-concert tour alongside the New Mexico residency.

The following week looked like this:

• Sunday: My husband flew in from California…and conveniently proposed that weekend.

• Monday: My third and final DMA recital.

• Tuesday: Final dissertation draft due to my committee (yes, it got turned in that night).

• Wednesday: Jordan and I rehearsed the repertoire we had been preparing separately.

• Thursday: More rehearsals, plus a full run-through of the program.

• Friday: Our very first concert as Metaphor Percussion Duo at OU.

• Saturday: I went to a state percussion conference and conducted OU's percussion ensemble.

• Sunday: Rehearsal and packing for tour.

• Monday: Hit the road to Texas

Looking back, that week was exhausting and chaotic, but rewarding. It also laid out the groundwork for what ended up being a fairly successful career so far. And speaking in retrospect, situations like these aren't student-specific, because we're still experiencing them today. If you don't believe me, let me explain:

When we commissioned our new batch of grant pieces this year (check out the project here!), we received all of the new music in January (four brand new pieces) with a premiere date of April 8. Three months for two people with full time teaching schedules is already a lot. And wouldn't you know it, another school in New York asked us to come out for a performance, all expenses paid, but the only date they have is March 25th, shaving a whole week off of our prep time. So, what's the obvious answer?

Say yes, and tackle it as it comes. I'm happy I can say as of today, all our music is learned and we fly out this Tuesday. Was it stressful? Heck yeah. Was it also worth it? Yes. Much like we talked about in last week's blog post, if you really want it, it will show up in your work.

Network

This might be one of the most important points on our list, because if you're like me, it actually goes entirely against my personality as a human being. I am an introvert, and I hate small talk. I am socially awkward, a little clumsy, and I dread social situations. This seems like an odd bunch of qualities for a professional performer, but here we are.

I would argue that one of the most important parts of any conference or concert is the after-party.

Several of our concerts and a couple of residencies came to fruition over a drink at a single education conference, and not immediately. They were people that we met and stayed in contact with, who saw a social media post here and there, and remembered our conversation when thinking about their next guest artist series.

Networking doesn’t have to mean “working the room” or transforming into the most outgoing version of yourself. Until recently, I avoided it altogether because I assumed that if I wasn’t effortlessly charismatic or constantly “on,” and I just wasn’t cut out for that part of the job. What I've learned is that you don’t need to talk to everyone, and you don't need to take over every conversation. More often than not, the most meaningful connections come from just a handful of genuine interactions like a compliment on their performance or a follow-up question on their presentation. It's easier than you think, and is the quickest way to start socially navigating the field!

Create A Routine

So! You've got your identity, and you've finally managed to nab that big concert you've been hoping for. Now you have to find your rhythm (no pun intended). Depending on where you and your partner(s) are in your career, this can be tricky.

Jordan and I started Metaphor while we were still long distance; we originally thought maybe this would be a non-starter, but after talking to plenty of colleagues over the years, many professional chamber groups in the scene hold down teaching jobs or other professional obligations and operate the same way. This is doable, but the number one ingredient is accountability. When running a professional group this way, you may get anywhere between a two days to a week of rehearsing together before you have to go on, and that doesn't leave much room for error.

If and when you have a professional career where your partner(s) are in the same town, you may get more time to put things together, but the standards and expectations shouldn't decrease. If anything, more access to each other should raise the standard for preparation. At the end of the day, accountability in a chamber group is about respect for everyone's time, just like every other ensemble.

Now for the actual routine portion, this might look a little different for everyone.

In our situation, Jordan and I both work five days a week as educators, coaches, and technicians, so we have no choice but to double up on some days to get in a Metaphor rehearsal. We currently can't house a marimba (or most other instruments) at home, so our base of operations is usually at Jordan's university. We repurposed our google calendars so that we both had access, and we could both understand where the open areas were within our schedules. It might not sound incredibly glamorous, but much of our rehearsing takes place after long hours of teaching lessons or late night marching band rehearsals. When we're being intentional and we plan effectively, we can usually average about 1 to 2 hours on a weekday, plus some hours on a Saturday or two during concert season. We usually take Sundays off if we're feeling pretty good about our progress so we can spend some time together being non-music people and resetting for another week of teaching.

I think the cliff-notes here can be that just like we talked about in last week's blog post, planning and intentionality is of the utmost importance, and you can use many of the same scheduling strategies in the life of your chamber group. It might feel overwhelming at first, but on the other side of untangling that knot, everything works like a well-oiled machine!

Longevity

Now we've discussed the formation, the scheduling, the networking, and the day-to-day life of your potential group. This last point is one that we should take with a grain of salt because my own group is young, and we're still learning as well. I'm speaking less from a storied perspective and more from one where I'm learning new lessons every day.

Like most art forms, music is subject to constant evolution. If you want your group to succeed in the long-term, you should be aware of the "market" you're trying to operate in. The orchestral field recently has been great at having the "what musicians like vs. what the donors like" conversation, and I think it's overwhelmingly relevant to the chamber scene. Not everything you will put on stage will be everybody's cup of tea, and that is perfectly okay. However, taking stock of audience feedback and being willing to prune your presentation every now and then is okay too, and can sometimes be in your best interest.

Some of the pieces that Jordan and I loved most were pieces that we played through at least seven or eight concerts, and nobody seemed to vibe. Maybe I didn't necessarily agree with the public opinion, but my whole motivation for forming a chamber group was to be motivating for audiences and to bring new takes to the repertoire. So if that means a piece or two gets shaved off in the process, I'm okay with that. There is still plenty of amazing music in our programs that are a hit with everyone, and I love those too.

My point is that we shouldn't make the mistake of pigeon-holing ourselves into one genre or one "schtick" and never being unwilling to try new things. In order to endure the ever-changing field, we too have to be open to change.

The Takeaway

At the end of the day, there’s no perfect roadmap for building something like this. That's okay; this guide is meant to be more of a series of observations from someone who is also in the growing stages of her chamber career. If there’s anything to take away from our experience, it’s this: Just start. You don't need to wait for the perfect plan or the perfect circumstances to get started. Just get in the room with your group and see what happens. Most of the answers to your burning questions will be answers as you walk the road, not before. And if you stay curious, consistent, and open to the process, you’ll likely build something amazing along the way!