Photos courtesy of Yautja
“Watching some drummers play is incredible but also soul crushing.” – Tyler Coburn
Funny enough, I think that’s exactly how most drummers feel watching him. I once commented on an Instagram video of Coburn playing that he made Bonham look like a ‘lil baby.’ That might've gotten a few laughs, but it was uttered in complete earnest.
Coburn’s chops are quite literally unparalleled. There are no drummers who play like him. And it makes sense why.
“My theory as to why I play the way I play is that it’s a result of me never learning anyone else’s songs,” he explained. “I never copied drummers or replicated their style… That forced me to write parts that were completely my own.”
That’s not to say Coburn was entirely without influences. At 17, he was exposed to the controlled chaos of Hella, and soon after, he started Gnarwhal, an insanely technical, mathy post-hardcore group (now just a duo), with a couple of guitar virtuosos he knew.
“When we started out, the Gnarwhal guitarists were killer, so much better than I was,” he said. In our interview, Coburn mentions he didn’t begin to get good at drums until he was playing with other people: “I think playing with people that are better than you really pushes you to improve.”
And clearly it did. Eager to rise to the level of his bandmates, he challenged himself to conceive drum parts novel and complex enough to engage his guitarists. After Gnarwhal rehearsals, he’d go home and practice relentlessly until whatever unnatural motion or pattern he’d come up with felt natural. To this day, that’s more or less how he writes.
His playing is evidence that a drum part can be the exceptional piece that makes a song great.
Much in the same way Zach Hill approached playing in Hella, writing “drum riffs” that often paralleled Spencer Seim’s guitar parts, Coburn would rhythmically and even melodically mirror the Gnarwhal guitar riffs.
He calls this “compositional” drumming. To Coburn, it’s about expanding the creative process and elevating the role of the drummer in songwriting.
“What’s exciting about drums to me is writing something that no one else has played before, creating patterns and combinations that are totally new. I can’t play guitar and write riffs. I think I’m envious of that element of songwriting.”
Following this philosophy, Coburn made Gnarwhal a creative channel of sorts – the perfect petri dish to proliferate his freakish skills.
His ambition has carried on, consistently present in all of his drum parts. Now 30, he’s played in numerous projects: Mutilation Rites, Spodee Boy and, most notably, Yautja and Thou. Beyond doubt, Coburn is the best part about any band he plays in – Thou became 69,420 times better when he joined in 2018 – but it is in Yautja and Gnarwhal where he truly thrives.
I’ve been a fan of both of these projects for years now. I’ve examined his playing on each of his records with a meticulous ear; I’ve taken the Youtube concert footage deep dive way too many times than is healthy. His progression is staggering. To listen to his albums chronologically is to witness firsthand Coburn's astonishing development, to experience each advance and innovation along with him as he pushes his limits to write more nuanced and intricate parts.
I’m in awe of everything Coburn does, so I was stunned to hear he hates it.
“I don’t have good self-esteem as far as my drumming goes. I’m really hard on myself and hate pretty much everything I’ve played on. I think that if I were more confident I’d have more fun.”
What he explains is a lack of confidence, I’ve always taken for humility. But it strikes me that those very insecurities are the engine that drives Coburn’s incredible inventiveness, that the perennial dissatisfaction he feels toward what he’s already created forces him ever forward to make something new and compelling.
It’s almost as if he can’t even take a moment to enjoy what he’s created, because as soon as he makes it, it’s no longer new. And he’s forced to start all over again.
Coburn may have his doubts, but I don’t. He’s hands down one of the greatest drummers I’ve ever seen. He may not be able to appreciate his own mastery, but give any of his work a listen, and you sure as hell will.
Interview with Tyler Coburn
Photo credit: VictorDPhoto
How’d you get started playing with Thou?
I met them when I was 16 at a show where they were opening for SUNN O))). I convinced them to play Nashville and basically just started booking them from then on. We developed a relationship through that. One day, totally out of the blue, Bryan called me and was like, “Hey, you want to move down to New Orleans and join Thou?” I told him I didn’t want to move, but I’d play in his band. We had a similar ethos with playing music, punk, DIY. Thou saw me drum and thought I’d work for them.
I actually had to change the way I played a little to make Thou work.
How so?
Well, I was never really good at playing slow because I never had to. I had to learn to chill out, groove and not get too fancy with anything. Thou required me to think about drumming in a way that was different from what I was used to. Pretty much anything I’d ever done prior was just play as many notes as possible all the time.
How’d you develop that style of playing?
I developed my style playing with Gnarwhal. I started that band when I was 17. I’d just discovered Hella, Lightning Bolt and a bunch of other crazy stuff. I was so taken with that sort of chaotic yet controlled, composed drumming. I was blown away by how Zach writes drum riffs off the guitar riffs instead of playing straight beats.
Playing with Gnarwhal made me challenge myself so much just to try and sit down and come up with an interesting drum part to base a riff off of.
But I think my theory as to why I play the way I play is that it’s a result of me never learning anyone else’s songs. I never copied drummers or replicated their style. I kind of wish I had because it probably would’ve made me better; at the same time, not doing that forced me to write parts that were completely my own.
At what point did you feel yourself becoming proficient as a player, and what were the circumstances of your improvement?
I didn’t really start to get good at drums until I was playing with other people. When we started out, the Gnarwhal guitarists were killer, so much better than I was. I think playing with people that are better than you really pushes you to improve. We all kind of progressed together through writing more and more complicated stuff.
In other interviews, I’ve heard you use the term “compositional” to describe your approach to drumming. Tell me about that.
When I write a drum part (for Yautja and Gnarwhal), I’ll have the guitar player play a riff over and over again, and I’ll try to match it rhythmically and sometimes melodically.
What’s exciting about drums to me is writing something that no one else has played before, creating patterns and combinations that are totally new. I can’t play guitar and write riffs. I think I’m envious of that element of songwriting.
How does compositional writing fit in with all of the different bands you play in? I imagine it really comes down to the context of the music itself.
Yautja is a three piece, and Gnarwhal is a two piece. With Thou and Mutilation Rites, it’s easier to focus on the whole band. I don’t need to be attracting attention. And it’s not my place to try and stand out with busier drum parts and all of my tricks.
Can we talk about your tricks? To me, those are largely what characterize your playing. One of my favorites is that alternating floor tom and kick thing you do.
Yeah, I guess I took most of those ideas from Bonham grooves. I thought the triplet off the hi-hat pattern in “Good Times Bad Times” was the sickest thing ever. I’d practice those beats a lot. I came up with the alternating tom and kick pattern to emulate double pedal. Sometimes I’ll work doubles into those grooves.
The foot stuff was something I was really frustrated with. I messed around with my kick pedal settings for years trying to make it work for my foot. I still haven’t really figured it out. I used to play a Trick pedal and now I’ve switched back to a DW 5000.
You can and have played double pedal before: Alraune, Mutilation Rites, occasionally Thou. Why do you opt for single pedal in Yautja? I guess that’s part of what makes you sound unique as a metal band.
It’s just because I’m already good at it. It’d take me a lot longer to get good at double kick. In a way, it’s me being lazy, but I’m doing something very not lazy (improving his single pedal skills) in order to be lazy.
Which is the exact opposite of how it usually goes: Drummers often use double pedal as a crutch to avoid working on the one foot.
Do you have any specific techniques and exercises that have helped you with foot speed?
I slide my foot so the second bounce you get is your foot catching the rebound of the first and sending it back to the kick drum. One exercise I’ve used over the years is moving around the kit and alternating between hands and feet: RLKK RLKK RLRLKK / KKRL KKRL KKRLRL.
What have you been working on?
Lately, I've just been trying to get my blasts faster. I feel like I’ve hit a wall with my foot speed. I need exercises for that. I’ve been using a metronome, and that’s helped me a bit. I’ll just set the click to 120 and play a blast beat until I can’t anymore. Then I bump it up 10 and repeat.
If I don’t practice, I lose my speed pretty quickly.
Also, something that’s helped me as far as improving and being more creative is I’ll hear something I can’t play at practice and go home to try to figure out how to play it, try to make my body do something unnatural. I’m not well versed with rudiments and that kind of stuff, so it doesn’t always come to me so easily to do quick doubles and showy rolls. I have to sit down and practice that relentlessly until it clicks.
What’s the most important lesson you’ve gleaned from drumming?
I’ve learned a lot of in-retrospect sort of things. For instance, there’s nothing productive about doubting yourself. I don’t have good self-esteem as far as my drumming goes. I’m really hard on myself and hate pretty much everything I’ve played on. I think that if I were more confident I’d have more fun. For a few years, I was so obsessed with being the best at what I was doing that I forgot how to have fun playing music. People will be like “That was fun, right?” after a set, and I’ll be like “Hell no! That was like running a marathon – just struggling the whole time.”
I’m just now relearning to enjoy it.
How are you relearning?
I like watching other drummers fuck up. Not because I’m like “Haha, you fucked up!” but because it’s cool to see how other people make mistakes and recover from them. I’m so hard on myself no matter what, but thinking about things from that perspective has helped me relearn to enjoy drumming.
Nobody notices, but I fuck up a lot.
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