Blog · from Behind the Beats #7
How to learn a whole set in two days
A call on Thursday, a gig on Saturday, thirteen songs you barely know. That is when you find out whether you have a system or just hope. The episode itself is in Polish.
The call comes on Thursday night. The gig is on Saturday, thirteen songs, and you recognise two of them from the radio. Nobody asks whether you have enough time. The only question is whether you are in the van or not. That is the moment you find out if you have a system — or just hope.
Learning someone else's set fast is worth as much in this job as technique. In 2024 I played over a hundred and sixty shows, the year after that around a hundred. Most of them with bands I work with permanently — but the gigs that actually changed my career all started with a phone call the day before. I joined LUC because his drummer stood up in the rehearsal room after a few weeks and said he wasn't feeling it. He walked out. I had a day, maybe two, for the whole set, and then went straight to the premiere show in Warsaw.
Build the folder before you touch the drums
Before I listen to anything, I put everything in one place: one folder, one file, in the exact order the concert will be played. It sounds trivial until you are on a big production where charts arrive from five different people and every other song has a guest artist. Once it is in order, you can see what is missing and ask for it — instead of finding out at Saturday's soundcheck that one song was never sent to you.
It's not notation, it's a map
I don't write out drum parts. I write a map. Title at the top, tempo in quarter notes next to it, then the time signature. If the groove is simple I write it down in one gesture — or, more often, I write the title of another song that the groove reminds me of. I glance at that name and I know exactly what to play.
Then comes the form, split bar by bar: long intro on cymbals, guitar intro four bars, groove four, theme four, theme four, solo eight, then lighter eight, another solo, build, theme, coda. That's it. In a faster funk tune at 150 there is more going on, so I mark the hits — including the ones landing on the "and" of three, with the fill that wraps them up.
Here is the part that matters: it does not have to be correct notation. Jimi Hendrix couldn't read music and wrote things down his own way. If writing "dum dum da" helps you, write "dum dum da". The only test is whether you look at that page and know what to play.
It's not sheet music. It's a map of how you dream of playing that show.
With tempo, time signature, feel and form on paper, you can play a song after two or three listens without really knowing it. After a couple of gigs with the same band you stop looking at the notes altogether — they become a setlist and an insurance policy. We have taken the Chłopi project half way around the world and my tablet still sits next to the hi-hat. Just in case.
The kit comes last
I sit down behind the drums only for the parts that genuinely need it: specific hits, fills, a form that refuses to stick. Everything else happens in headphones and in the car. Hours on the road are the best time to get the material under your skin — far better use of them than radio.
There is a simple test for how much you need to practise. Play through the set once. No real trouble? You're fine; rehearsal and soundcheck will do the rest. Something keeps throwing you off, you can't remember a section, you land on the same spot for the third time? That's the signal to sit down and work. Judge it honestly — Saturday will expose the truth anyway.
At rehearsal, calm beats preparation
- Listen to the people around you. Half of the information you are missing is in what the band is playing.
- Ask, don't guess. If you don't understand the form, ask. That is what rehearsals are for.
- Lost in the chart? Don't panic. You'll find your place, and somebody will nod you back to the top.
- Put your ego away. We're all kicking at the same goal. The music matters, not how you come across.
A concert is not an exam. We do this because we love it, and that is part of the preparation too.
The thing that catches everyone
The singer brings a microphone. We bring half a flat. Repacking drums at four in the morning between two gigs, sooner or later you will forget something. I once turned up to a big show with no cymbals — a friend drove his over for the rehearsal and saved me. Another time I arrived without a kick drum, luckily in my own city, so I made it back home in time. A packing list is as important as the notes: kick, snare, cymbals, hardware, sticks, headphones, tablet with the maps, charger.
It gets shorter with the years
Today, when somebody calls the day before — a dep gig or a session — I'm ready. Not because I suddenly know everything, but because I have an order to my work and I know how much time a given kind of material takes me.
The same process runs in the studio. I get the file, I listen, I map the form and the hits, then I play drums to it. The only difference is that instead of driving two hundred kilometres, I send the tracks back. If you have a song that needs real drums, send it over — we'll talk about the sound and the groove, and you'll have the takes within a day.