(Seventh of a series)

When this series started in March, drummer Rey Vinoya put himself at a distance from deadline in a mix of hesitation and bemusement. Without declining outright to be profiled, he proposed what he believed was the farthest possible date from March: “September!” he said, beaming, when I asked him in April when he thought he’d be ready to share his story.

Well, here we are. Turns out Rey’s call had been prescient. I’ve spent the last few months catching as many of his gigs as possible—he’s among the constantly in-demand drummers today—in an attempt to come to grips with his highly personal playing language. This is the slippery slope on the way to becoming a groupie, I thought to myself while watching him on some nights, marvelling at his intense bursts of supreme athleticism one moment and then his pulling back to a near-total hush to let those brushes do their swishy, barely-there thing the next. 

Here we are, and I am none the wiser. What exactly makes Rey’s time-keeping feel just ever so slightly beyond the reach of words? As do the finest jazz drummers, he more than merely sustains a steady rhythmic pulse. He supports and boosts the soloists, creates tension and drama, splashes percussive color, and helps invoke the mood or atmosphere—the proverbial tasteful rug that ties the room together, as it were. 

But that barely captures the entirety of what Rey brings to every performance—on top of the ready smile and his singular competence on the drum kit. He’s not just plugged into the sound of his co-players; he’s wired to the entire room. He weaves effortlessly between hard and soft focus: Without missing a beat on the main stage he can quick-scan his surroundings and signal to the seating area up-to-the-minute adjustments that might need to be made. 

As one of Rey’s longtime collaborators, keyboardist Butch Saulog, observes, “Apart from the obvious skillset, there’s [his] feel and sensitivity. This may sound cliché, but he plays in service of the song and sees no need to impose his will and display his chops. And he’s very diligent in studying the repertoire given to him.”

Best seen and heard

What was lost to the guitar (his first musical instrument at an early age) and the piano (his minor in university) has borne a wondrous gift to percussion. Rey had also explored the musical terrain, playing drums for rock bands when he wasn’t even 20, before being introduced to bebop and straight-ahead jazz via jazz fusion.

“I became curious about the drum set and its key role in the development of jazz,” says Rey. “They evolved together, each contributing to the other’s growth. I have been playing jazz for the last 20 years and I’m still learning how to play it.”

While he still gets roped in to play at the occasional blues or rock gig, he is always happy and grateful that he is able to play the music that he wants to play and get paid for it. “I wouldn’t change a thing,” he says. 

And here’s the thing: Seeing and hearing Rey play is always a notable moment because of the protean quality of his approach. He constantly reinvents his comping, continually shifting the rhythmic center of gravity across his kit. Sometimes it’s almost as if he’s perpetually soloing, even as a solid pulsing foundation always undergirds his explosive technique. He doesn’t just play the drums in his own distinctive fashion; he also perceives them in a completely different way.

“One of my biggest turning points was when I studied [briefly] with [now-US-based jazz drummer] Koko Bermejo,” says Rey. “I learned enough from him to help me shape not just my drumming but also my musical concepts. Koko had told me to find a concept, find a sound, and be musically coherent instead of being a jack of all trades and master of none.”

Playing the music

The legendary American jazz drummer Elvin Jones, one of Rey’s heroes, was known to emphasize in drum clinics that the drum set should be used to “play the music.” Musical intention is key; a solid drummer understands the composition thoroughly and avoids excessive fills that can distract from the musical flow. 

That understanding helps them build and compose a musical drum part with substance and shape—the perfect starting point for Rey to “establish a good ‘time feel’ that the other musicians can comfortably play with.” He says that the rest is fun, especially in the company of the best jazz musicians, with whom he often shares stages these days: “I then just respond to what is happening, sometimes taking the lead, sometimes following, just letting it unfold.”

As such, he doesn’t believe in bad nights. “To be playing jazz on stage every night is always a good one,” says Rey. “Minor mistakes do not make a bad night. I am very lucky that I get to play with good musicians, so if there’s a lapse that’s probably on me!”

A good night, however, is almost always contingent on an attentive audience. A study published some years back, “The reciprocal relationship between jazz musicians and audiences in live performances” by scholars from the Guildhall School of Music & Drama in London, underscores the dynamic interplay between performers and audience members. While the performers’ appearance, gestures, and interactions with the shared space, as well as their music, can all influence the listeners, the latter can also have an effect on each other and even the performers, shaping the overall experience. Listeners become active participants who significantly contribute to the outcome of the performance.

“I appreciate audiences that are quiet, listening, and interacting,” says Rey, who’s not shy about responding to disruptive noises by subtly signalling his disapproval and turning up his volume to emphasize his point.   

No rush, no drag

Resisting the lure of getting snug in a limited range of tempos, Rey would much prefer to take on the challenge of new territory. “I will find my way in any tempo,” he says. “It’s too easy to slide into a tempo comfort zone, which I find to be the reason for either rushing or dragging.”

He has also been finding his way in life without social media, and living unplugged likely accounts for his even-keeled manner. “When social media platforms first appeared in the late ‘90s I really thought they were passing trends,” he says, laughing. 

He doesn’t seem to have changed his mind since, despite the unstoppable deluge of shiny new tech thrills. While people frantically upgraded to the latest smartphones every couple of years, he lived with and cherished his Ericsson flip phone until it gave up the ghost.

Living untethered to “the latest” has allowed him to focus on his closest relationships, reduce distractions, and nurture a quiet mind. However, he remains connected to fellow musicians and music enthusiasts via online groups and forums, and enjoys the occasional online jazz concert or recording. 

Will he one day be a teacher or bandleader himself, as many jazz drummers have become? The first, maybe not really. Rey’s relishing “the warmth of human interaction” afforded by live gigs without having to explain what just went down to a roomful of kids. The second looms as a possibility down a long road. “Band leadership calls for an entirely different skillset, and it’s a big responsibility,” he says. 

For now, Rey is sticking close to home, “tooling around with some rhythmic ideas and melodies.” He’s having too much fun being exactly where he needs to be, and he’s not about to put a rush on that.

Read more: Portraits in Jazz: Faye and Bergan in Project Yazz