The Greatest Showman - Chapter 1377
To be precise, he didn't care what Johansson was thinking at all. For him, it was all about the drums—just the drums.
Anyone who has truly studied a musical instrument in depth understands the importance of solid foundational skills. As the saying goes, "A full bottle makes no sound, but a half-filled bottle rattles." In other words, those with real mastery don't need to show off; their skill speaks for itself.
Take the piano, for example. If someone merely wants to play a piece for a performance, they might memorize the sheet music and finger placements by rote, learning a song in three to five days. With enough practice, they can appear proficient. But true musicianship is different. Professional training requires daily metronome exercises, repetition, and years of discipline before one achieves real mastery. Every great musician has honed their craft through rigorous training—there are no shortcuts.
The same applies to drumming. Dumb drum exercises are an essential foundation. Beginners without any prior experience typically spend at least three days, if not longer, practicing solely on dumb drums before transitioning to a full drum kit.
From a technical standpoint, basic drumming skills can be divided into five types: click, drum, repetition, decorative sound, and bouncing decoration. These five techniques can be endlessly combined to refine and perfect one's skills. Dumb drum exercises, in particular, focus on precision, coordination, and control.
Additionally, drumming fundamentals can be classified into two categories: four-limb skill training and four-limb coordination training. The latter is self-explanatory, while skill training is akin to fitness—except instead of large muscle groups, it targets smaller, more intricate muscle movements in the fingers, wrists, and joints. Over time, this improves flexibility, coordination, and control, enhancing speed and power while maintaining rhythmic stability.
Much like piano playing, drumming requires mastery of dynamics—light and heavy, fast and slow, fluid transitions between tempos—all while maintaining a steady beat. Great conductors can detect the subtlest rhythmic shifts in a piece of music, adjusting to evoke different emotions. As the metronome of a band, a drummer provides both stability and energy.
And all of this comes from dumb drum practice.
While these exercises can technically be performed on a real drum kit, the loudness of actual drums often masks minor errors. This is why dumb drum training remains indispensable—it isolates technical flaws and protects a drummer's hearing over prolonged practice sessions.
Renly, with over a decade of piano experience, understood the necessity of mastering the basics. Though he wasn't a prodigy, his foundational skills were solid. Now, as he ventured into drumming, he was prepared to approach it with the same discipline and patience.
Of course, he knew that with his limited time, he wouldn't become a top-tier drummer in just a few months. But that wasn't the goal. His objective wasn't perfection—it was authenticity. If he was going to play the drums, he wanted to do it right.
More importantly, with all the recent chaos in his life, he found solace in the simplicity of repetitive practice. The monotonous rhythm allowed him to clear his mind, focus, and shut out distractions. Drumming became a form of meditation.
At first glance, a drum kit might seem simple—it's just keeping a beat, right? But Renly knew better. Mastering any instrument requires discipline, precision, and endurance.
For the next seven days, Johansson observed something strange.
Renly remained entirely focused on dumb drum exercises. Typically, beginners transition to real drums after three to five days, but Renly showed no impatience. For five days straight, he practiced for four hours a day, methodically refining his technique.
Johansson never suggested moving on to real drums, and Renly never asked. He just kept repeating the same exercises over and over again. Johansson himself was growing bored, but Renly's concentration never wavered.
This... was truly unusual.
"Sixty! Hold steady, hold steady… Good! Now push it to one hundred and two—keep the rhythm! Steady hands, control your wrist strength. Keep the tempo even... Very good! Now gradually increase to two hundred and four..."
"A little more, a little faster! No, no—don't lose the rhythm when you speed up! One, two, three, four—keep the metronome steady! Can you hear it? Tac-tac-tac! One, two, three, four! Keep your strokes even!"
Johansson and Renly were now working on a crucial exercise: variable-speed drumming. The challenge was to transition smoothly between speeds—from sixty to two hundred and forty beats per minute—without losing control.
While this wasn't the most extreme speed challenge (some advanced drummers go up to 360 or even 400 BPM), it was already an intense test of Renly's endurance, control, and precision. This was his nineteenth attempt. His arms, wrists, and fingertips were growing stiff, but for the first time, Johansson could hear real fluency in Renly's drumming. The beats fell naturally into place, steady and seamless.
"Excellent! Keep it steady!"
Johansson listened intently, his smile involuntary. Renly's rhythm was perfectly synced with the metronome—a rare feat for someone at this stage. But as soon as he noticed himself smiling, Johansson quickly masked his expression and interrupted the session with a clap.
"That's enough. This take was solid."
He gave a rare nod of approval. "You've completed your basic dumb drum training. These drills will always be useful—you can practice them anywhere, anytime."
Unlike bulky drum kits, dumb drums are portable and quiet, making them ideal for continued practice at home.
"Starting tomorrow, we'll move on to real drum training," Johansson finally announced. "Of course, you should still keep up with your dumb drum exercises. You can even challenge yourself to hit 400 BPM if you want."
Four hundred beats per minute—nearly seven strokes per second. It was an absurdly high threshold that required not only speed but also precise control. Hitting the drumhead without sound was useless, and each strike needed to be even in tone and power.
"No problem," Renly responded, his tone as calm and steady as ever. From day one, he had shown no eagerness to impress—only a quiet dedication to learning. His demeanor was so serious and disciplined that Johansson sometimes forgot Renly's actual profession.
Even today, Renly's focus was unwavering.
Johansson left the practice room, heading back to his own work. But just as he reached the door, he realized he had left his phone behind. Shaking his head, he turned back.
The rehearsal room lights were off—Renly had already cleaned up and left. Johansson retrieved his phone, ready to leave again when he noticed something unexpected.
A faint glow emanated from another practice room down the hall. Curious, he walked over and peered through the window.
There, alone in the dimly lit room, was Renly—still practicing on the dumb drum.
Johansson's jaw nearly dropped. He had expected dedication, but this? This was on a whole other level.