The forgotten art of the rock double bass drum technique

Drum kits have always been rock's engine room, but for a stretch in the late twentieth century, the roar of the double bass drum cut through the mix like a second front line. The technique, which lets drummers fire rapid, sustained notes from the floor tom using quick, alternating foot strokes, became a signature for heavier, more progressive outfits. It turned simple grooves into something you felt in the sternum before the brain caught up.

Somewhere between grunge's stripped-back swing and the rise of programmed beats, the double kick drifted out of rock's centre stage. It held a foothold in metal and fusion, but for the average rock band chasing radio airplay, the technique was treated as a relic. Modern production favours tight, sampled drums, and many younger players now grow up more fluent in finger drumming than in ankle-controlled speed.

This piece looks at how the technique developed, who defined it, and why Australian and international drummers are bringing it back into rock's conversation.

Where the second kick came from

The double bass drum setup has roots that go further back than most fans realise. The first documented use of two bass drums dates to the 1930s, but it was the late 1960s and 1970s that turned the configuration into a rock weapon. Carmine Appice popularised the sound in Vanilla Fudge and Cactus, while Cozy Powell, Ian Paice and later Neil Peart pushed hard rock into heavier terrain.

By the 1980s, the twin pedal had replaced the second drum. It was cheaper, easier to transport and took less stage space, refined by makers like Tama and DW. Bands loading into pubs from Perth to Hobart suddenly had access to that signature rumble without doubling their hardware.

The musical payoff was real. Double kick patterns let drummers sustain eighth or sixteenth note grooves a single foot could not execute, opening up longer buildups and faster transitions without losing swing.

The physical craft behind the sound

Pulling off convincing double bass drum technique is less about raw speed than control and balance. Most players start with the heel-up approach, where the ankle drives the beater down and a small rebound from the pedal brings it back. Beginners often tighten up too quickly, lock their shoulders and lose the springy looseness that makes rapid single-stroke rolls possible.

Teachers in Melbourne and Brisbane will break the skill into clear stages: slow, even sixteenth notes at roughly 60 bpm, then controlled bursts of doubles within a groove, and finally longer sequences sustained across a full song.

A common mistake is treating the kicks like a second pair of snare hands. The legs tire faster, the Achilles takes strain, and sloppy timing creeps in if the upper body drifts off the click. Dave Grohl and Australian virtuoso Virgil Donati have both spoken about how endless endurance work separates flashy bursts from reliable stamina.

Australian torchbearers and lost momentum

Australia developed a strong appetite for hard rock in the 1980s and 1990s, and local players absorbed the double bass drum vocabulary quickly. Airbourne out of Melbourne, who lean on driving kick patterns alongside their twin pedal work, and the heavier Wolfmother catalogue of the mid 2000s kept the sound threaded through mainstream rock radio here. The now-defunct Soundwave on the Gold Coast turned kick work into an arena-level spectacle, with thousands watching drummers pin their strokes to thrash, punk and crossover sets.

Outside the touring circuit, the technique lived on in suburban rehearsal rooms. The Tote and the Corner Hotel in Melbourne, the Manning Bar in Sydney, and Perth's Amplifier Bar hosted countless bands whose rhythm sections depended on twin pedal stamina.

Then the crowded economics of Australian live music, including the licensing load under state-by-state noise regulations, pushed many mid-tier venues out of business, and the educational pipeline thinned.

Why rock radio left it behind

When indie rock and alternative took over from the late 1990s onward, priorities for radio-friendly drums shifted. Production moved toward close-mic'd, compressed snare hits and dry kick samples, often generated in studios from Sydney to Adelaide. Drummers who could swing or who brought unusual time signatures found more leverage than those pushing raw velocity.

Programmed drums in pop and electronic-leaning rock further devalued live leg technique. If a beat could be sampled, quantised and looped, the imperfections that give the technique its character looked like liabilities. Heritage tours through regional halls in Tamworth and Cairns sometimes leaned on the technique for authenticity, but most new songwriters did not bother writing around it.

Bringing the technique back into rock

A noticeable resurgence of heavier underground rock is restoring the double bass drum to a deserved place. Labels are signing younger bands who treat the technique as essential gear, and outfits like Melbourne's Clowns and Brisbane's DZ Deathrays write grooves that demand real kick stamina. Drummers posting covers from garages in Geelong or Wollongong draw hundreds of thousands of views, proof the appetite never really vanished.

Aspiring players should start at tempos low enough for the foot to relax, and resist faster patterns until endurance is stable. A face-to-face teacher suits most, because heel-toe, slide and swivelling techniques each fit different bodies. A solid reference is the editorial coverage at RED Rock Magazine, which tracks emerging players and recent album releases worth studying for groove ideas.

The double bass drum technique is hardly a museum piece. Drop into a heavy rehearsal in Brunswick or Newtown and you will hear the sound being pushed, stretched and lovingly abused. If rock is to keep its physical edge against soft synths and click tracks, the second kick deserves a permanent seat behind the kit. Head to the main page and dig into the bands leading this quiet revival.