The ability to play a solo, while not an essential requirement to be a great musician, carries a unique charm and power that’s hard to resist.
Especially for us drummers — since drums tap into something instinctive and ancestral within us — soloing can become the ultimate form of expression, communication, and deep connection with ourselves and with our audience.
And if, as I hope is true for all of us, the reason we make music is to express ourselves, move people, and communicate something meaningful, then soloing is one of the most powerful tools we have to do that.
The main types of drum solo can be summarized as:
- Open: completely free, even from a steady pulse.
- In time: free in phrasing, but played in time.
- Over structure: improvised within a musical form.
- Trading: alternating set numbers of bars with other instruments.
- Vamp: based on repeating figures looped by the band.
- Over figures: based on changing rhythmic figures throughout a longer form.
Regardless of the solo type, there are always two key levels to focus on:
- What we play, and how we play it.
It’s essential to have a clear idea of what we’re playing — and then pay attention to how we play it: the feel, the subdivision, the dynamics, the intention (ahead or behind the beat), articulation, and orchestration.
That’s important, because these are the tools we use to create a specific emotional effect.
The clearer we are about the phrase we’re expressing, and the more control we have over these musical elements, the more accurately and powerfully we can convey what we feel. - Why we play it.
Are we fully present and immersed in the music — aware, in the flow — so that every note we play has purpose and emotional weight?
Or are we stuck in our head, thinking about how to squeeze in that cool lick we’ve been practicing?
This principle should always apply, but in solos it’s absolutely essential: whatever we play should come from the spontaneity of what we’re feeling in that moment, and from what’s happening in the music — not from a calculated idea or a “goal” we’ve attached to our solo.
A solo needs to be a dialogue — with the music, or with ourselves if it’s a solo drum piece.
The only goal is to express ourselves, make music, feel something, and move others — serving the music first.
And the only way to do that is by being as instinctive as possible. That’s why effective improvisation is so important.
Here’s the paradox: in order to be instinctive in a meaningful and musical way, we first need to study and practice systematically — with discipline and logic.
The key idea for approaching any solo is this: tell a story.
That’s the same principle behind any great composition, or work of art in general.
There needs to be a message. That message might be simple and brief, or complex and highly developed.
Take a song, for example: every piece tells a story. It has an introduction, a verse, a chorus, multiple melodies, dynamics, breaks, and so on.
Another useful metaphor is the idea of a tale. Just like in any story, we have an introduction, characters, moments of tension and release, pauses, surprises, slow parts, fast parts, a climax, and finally, a resolution.
The more variety we include — and the more intelligently we combine those elements — the more compelling the solo (or story) becomes.
That’s what should guide any solo performance. It’s not (hopefully) just a bunch of random notes, as a less experienced listener might think.
There’s a deeper design — and that design is a story. A message. The personal expression of the performer. Something they want to say, give, and share.
The idea is to spark emotion and capture the listener’s imagination. The more twists and surprises your solo contains, the more engaging it will be.
One very useful phenomenon here is contrast effect in perception — using contrast to generate emotional impact.
For example: slow vs fast, soft vs loud, sparse vs dense note groupings, single sound vs many different textures.
If a solo begins with a soft, delicate phrase and suddenly explodes into a loud, intense passage, that shift alone will evoke a strong emotional response.
Changes in dynamics, tempo, and orchestration are among the most direct ways to move your listener — not just in soloing, but in music in general.
It’s an essential concept.
Imagine someone who shouts constantly — when they finally say something important, no one listens.
The same happens with drummers who play busy, dense solos all the time — it quickly becomes tiring.
Unlike wind instruments, we drummers aren’t forced to pause to breathe — so we often fall into the trap of playing endless streams of notes, which soon lose their meaning.
Another useful concept is that of song form — organizing your ideas within a structure that the listener naturally interprets as musical.
Even alternating just two simple ideas in an AABA form can instantly sound musical, even without adding anything else.
Another powerful approach is to develop a musical motif.
Take a small idea — a phrase, a rhythmic cell, a melodic gesture — and build on it as if telling a story: circle around it, return to it, evolve it, leave space, alternate density and openness, tension and release.
In the end, what matters most is the musical concept behind what you’re playing.
Technique is the physical part, and it’s necessary. But if it exists on its own, without a musical idea guiding it, it quickly becomes a meaningless stream of notes.
Just look at the countless “shredding” videos online that showcase speed, but little musical value.
If then we bring it all together by infusing what we play with emotion, our solos can become unforgettable.
Not because we’re the fastest. Not because we’re the most accurate. But because we’re communicating.
A while ago I posted a video where I demonstrate the difference between a solo made up entirely of thirty-second-note runs, and a musical solo that tells a story using the ideas we’ve just discussed.
If we can apply these concepts and frameworks to every solo we play, our musicality and overall quality will reach a whole new level.
Let’s now break down the different types of solo, one by one.
OPEN SOLO
An open solo is completely free — no structure, no pulse, no rules — except for one: be as musical as possible.
This format gives you total freedom to tell a story. Personally, though, I find that having a few internal reference points can be helpful.
You might build a solo around a set of ideas that serve as a map, which you then develop differently each time — just like retelling a story with new nuances.
This approach might feel a little less spontaneous than total real-time improvisation, but it’s extremely useful when you want to guarantee a strong result.
There are situations — under pressure, in a live performance, or when you’re tired — where having something to lean on helps you stay confident and focused.
Diving in completely unprepared and composing in real time is definitely more challenging and unpredictable.
Yet when the inspiration flows and something truly unique emerges, the beauty and authenticity of that moment can even surprise us as performers.
Open solos are often used to open or close a concert, or to introduce or end a song.
A fantastic example of this type of solo is the opening of the instructional video Solo Drums by Terry Bozzio.
IN TIME SOLO
An in time solo is almost identical to an open solo, with one key difference: there is a steady pulse.
You’re still free in what you play, but the timing is fixed — you stay in tempo throughout. This single constraint has a big impact on how you shape your ideas and develop your solo.
A great example is Keith Carlock’s solo at the beginning of his set at the 2005 Modern Drummer Festival — a solo that’s free in phrasing, but strictly in time.
SOLO OVER STRUCTURE
This kind of solo is played in time and also follows a defined song form.
That form can be simple, like 4-bar blocks, or more complex — like a jazz chorus in AABA format, where each A section is 8 bars and the B section is 12, totaling 36 measures.
Staying within these boundaries requires a high level of awareness and discipline.
The key here is to feel the form, rather than count every bar (though counting can help if needed).
Often, harmonic and melodic elements will be hinted at by other musicians, which gives you cues to stay connected to the structure — creating a kind of “imaginary conversation” with the form itself.
A beautifully musical example of this is Larnell Lewis’ 8-bar soloing in the live version of What About Me by Snarky Puppy.
TRADING SOLO
In a trading solo, the drummer alternates short solo phrases with the rest of the band — usually in blocks of 4, 8, 12, or 16 bars.
It’s a format that’s especially common in jazz.
Each round gives you a limited space to express yourself, and then it’s the band’s turn, creating a back-and-forth dialogue.
One of the most interesting features of this approach is that you can choose to either start fresh every time or continue developing your story with each new entry — building tension, intensity, volume, or note density as the solo progresses.
What makes this type of solo so exciting is the chance to interact directly with the band.
Often, another musician will solo during their section, so you can build a dialogue with their parts or with the whole ensemble’s — not by playing simultaneously, but through linear interaction.
A classic example is the 4-bar exchange between Max Roach and Clifford Brown in the studio version of Jordu.
VAMP SOLO
A vamp solo is played over a short, repeated musical section — usually 1 to 4 bars long — that contains fixed rhythmic accents provided by the band.
The simplest way to approach this is to play those accents consistently while layering complementary ideas around them.
A more advanced and creative approach is to use only some of the rhythmic figures, weaving your own phrases between them.
Whatever strategy you use, it’s the figures in the vamp that guide your phrasing. You need to be able to interpret them musically on the drums, with clarity, freedom, and variation.
A great example of this is the 2-bar vamp repeated 4 times by Richard Bailey on Smiling Faces by Incognito.
SOLO OVER FIGURES
This type of solo is similar to the vamp solo but with one key difference: the rhythmic figures are no longer repeated in a short loop.
Instead, they’re spread across a longer form — sometimes up to 64 bars — and they change each time.
This raises the difficulty: you can’t rely on repetition or predictability. You need to stay sharp and react in real time, highlighting the key moments with musicality and control.
The full structure may only be played once or repeated multiple times, giving you more space to tell your story through your solo.
A textbook example of this kind of solo is Vinnie Colaiuta’s incredible solo in the live version of Actual Proof by Herbie Hancock.
Obviously, the different types aren’t isolated categories. As the examples show, they can easily overlap and combine.
How do you master all of this?
First, you need to internalize a wide vocabulary of phrases and combinations. (For this, I recommend Altitude Drumming Vol. 5: Phrasing & Fills and Drum Chops Mastery).
But beyond that, the most important thing is to get comfortable improvising.
Start with total freedom. Then gradually introduce limitations — structural, rhythmic, or conceptual — until you can improvise within constraints without losing expression or flow.
Finally, practice one solo format at a time, ideally with other musicians, until you feel fluent in each type.
Related resources:
‘Art & Musicianship’ – Altitude Drumming – Volume 10
Improve Your Improvisational Skills – 5 Jam Along Loops
Unmusical vs Musical Drum Solo
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