When I first started playing Taiko, I had no idea how deeply it would connect to my soul. At first, it was just about the sound—the deep, thunderous vibration that shakes you from the inside out. But then, something happened. The rhythm became a part of me. The drumsticks felt like an extension of my hands. The energy of the group, the harmony of every strike, it all blended into something bigger than just music. It became a feeling. A way of being.
I lose myself when I play. Time disappears. I step into the studio, turn on the metronome, and start drumming. The beats take over, and suddenly, hours have passed. My arms are shaking, my body is drenched in sweat, but my heart is full. The only reminder of time is the sweet exhaustion that comes after. And then, the laughter. That deep, soul-shaking laugh that comes when you’ve given everything and still feel more alive than ever.
And then there’s group drumming. That’s another kind of magic. Every drum has its own voice, its own heartbeat, and when we play together, it’s like a conversation without words. We sync, we push each other, we feel each other’s energy, and together, we create something that is more than just sound. It’s a pulse of unity, a rhythm of connection. There’s no ego, no individual. Just the drums and us, moving as one.
As a painter, I see so many parallels between Taiko and art. Both require discipline, repetition, and endless passion. Both are about expression—about taking something inside you and bringing it to life, whether through sound or through color. In painting, every brushstroke tells a story. In Taiko, every beat speaks a language of its own. And when I play, it feels like I am painting with rhythm, filling the space with energy the way I fill a canvas with movement and emotion.
Taiko isn’t just music for me. It’s a way of existing, a way of feeling the world, of connecting with others and with myself. It’s raw, powerful, and incredibly freeing. It’s better than… well, almost anything. It leaves you breathless, but wanting more. It’s a cycle of energy—giving and receiving, pushing and flowing. It’s the art of rhythm, and I am endlessly in love with it.
So whether I’m standing in front of a drum or a canvas, I know one thing: I will always chase that rhythm, that movement, that pulse of life. Because in the end, art and music are the same—they both remind us that we are alive, that we are connected, and that we are meant to create.
My place - Taiko Academy https://www.taikolife.org/
Photos by: Ziv Barak, Tali Etzyoni
איתן אברמוביץ' ,נועם אמיר
Nikita
