The percussionist who built a drum kit from recycled materials

In a city where discarded objects can carry the marks of several former lives, percussionist Mara Bell found the beginnings of a new instrument. Her full drum kit includes a salvaged marching drum, paint buckets, bicycle parts, timber offcuts and a cymbal shaped from a retired industrial disc. It looks handmade because it is, but the sound is deliberate: warm, sharp and surprisingly powerful.

Bell’s approach sits comfortably within Lady Indie’s tradition of giving overlooked musicians room to explain how their work takes shape. Her recycled drum set is an experiment in sustainability, a practical response to expensive gear and a reminder that independent music can begin with whatever is available. We spoke with her about rhythm, reuse and building a stage-ready kit from materials that would otherwise be thrown away.

Finding rhythm in discarded objects

Bell grew up listening to her mother’s soul records and playing along with local bands in community halls. “I was always hitting things before I understood that I was learning percussion,” she says. “The kitchen had the best sounds: the metal sink, the wooden chopping board, the old glass jars.”

Her first proper drum kit was borrowed, then sold before she could afford one of her own. The setback pushed her towards salvage yards and op shops. She began recording the sounds of objects on her phone, comparing the tone of a plastic tub with a steel bin and testing different kinds of wood as makeshift snare shells.

That process eventually became part of her musical identity. Bell does not treat recycling as a visual gimmick or a substitute for professional equipment. Every object has to earn its place through pitch, resonance and reliability. “If it doesn’t sound good, it doesn’t matter how clever the idea is,” she says.

The project also reflects the practical realities of independent music in Australia, where shipping bulky equipment between Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane can become a serious expense. A homemade kit is easier to repair locally, and many of its components can be replaced without waiting for an overseas order.

How a collection became a full kit

The bass drum is a reinforced plastic water barrel, cut and fitted with second-hand hardware. Bell attached a plywood hoop to each side and used a salvaged drumhead on the batter side. The result produces a low, rounded thump rather than the booming punch of a commercial bass drum, which suits her stripped-back arrangements.

Her snare began as a discarded marching drum from a school music department. It had a dented shell and missing tension rods, but the metal still held its shape. Bell cleaned it, replaced the broken fittings and added a thin layer of cork beneath the head to soften the harshest overtones.

The toms are made from paint buckets of different sizes. Bell mounted them inside wooden frames built from flooring offcuts, leaving enough space for the shells to vibrate. “The buckets give me a short note,” she explains. “The wood adds a little body, so they don’t sound like household containers.”

For cymbals, she experimented with old baking trays, car panels and a circular steel plate from a machinery workshop. The final piece is thinner than a standard crash cymbal and responds quickly to light strokes. It does not produce a polished studio shimmer, but its dry, imperfect voice gives her recordings a recognisable signature.

The engineering behind the noise

Building an upcycled drum set required more than enthusiasm and a collection of interesting rubbish. Bell learned basic metalwork, wood joining and vibration control through public workshops and advice from instrument repairers. She also discovered that safety mattered as much as tone. Every cut edge is filed smooth, every bracket is secured with locking nuts and every stand is tested under movement.

The most difficult task was controlling unwanted resonance. A recycled shell can vibrate in several directions at once, creating rattles that become distracting when amplified. Bell used felt, cork and small rubber washers to isolate noisy contact points. She kept notes on each adjustment, treating the kit like a research project rather than a one-off craft experiment.

Her microphone setup is equally considered. A single dynamic microphone captures the snare and nearby toms, while a contact microphone attached to the bass drum records the low vibration. She prefers fewer microphones because the limitations force her to play with greater precision.

That discipline has helped her in small Australian venues, from intimate rooms in Fitzroy to warehouse shows in Marrickville. Independent spaces often have limited soundcheck time, so a compact rig that can be tuned quickly is valuable. Bell carries spare straps, washers and a roll of gaffer tape instead of relying on venue equipment.

The materials behind the music

Bell keeps a running list of objects that can be transformed into useful percussion components. She looks for pieces with strong structural integrity, predictable surfaces and a sound that changes when struck at different points.

Recovered materials in the kit

• A plastic water barrel for the bass drum shell
• A retired marching drum for the snare
• Paint buckets for the toms
• Industrial steel and baking trays for cymbal experiments

The final choices came after months of testing. Some objects looked promising but collapsed under tension, while others produced a beautiful tone that disappeared once microphones were placed nearby. Bell says the best discoveries often happen when she stops trying to imitate a conventional kit.

Small parts that keep it playable

• Cork and felt for reducing harsh resonance
• Plywood hoops for stabilising the bass drum
• Reused bicycle bolts for adjustable fittings
• Rubber washers to prevent metal-on-metal rattles

Her repairs are designed to be accessible. A broken bracket can be replaced with hardware from a local tool shop, and a worn surface can often be reinforced with material already in her workshop. That matters in a market where specialist drum parts may cost more after freight, currency conversion and GST.

A local scene built on resourcefulness

Bell’s music has found an audience through DIY venues, community radio and small festivals rather than conventional industry campaigns. In Melbourne, she has performed at songwriter nights and experimental bills where listeners are open to unusual instrumentation. In Adelaide, a workshop connected to the Fringe introduced her to theatre makers who wanted live percussion without the volume of a standard rock kit.

She also sees a strong connection between recycled instruments and Australian music culture. Weekend markets, garage sales and council hard-waste collections can provide materials that would be difficult to source in a tightly controlled commercial supply chain. Even Bunnings becomes part of the creative ecosystem when a musician needs brackets, sealant or timber late on a Sunday afternoon.

Online discovery has widened that audience. Bell shares short building clips, field recordings and rehearsal fragments, while independent artists in Montreal and Australia exchange ideas about low-cost recording. Lady Indie’s own story of artist-led discovery is part of that lineage, and readers can learn more through the Lady Indie story.

She is careful, however, not to turn the project into a lifestyle performance. “The environmental side matters, but I don’t want people to think I’m asking them to admire the rubbish,” she says. “I want them to hear a good groove first.”

What the kit changes on stage

Playing a recycled kit changes Bell’s physical relationship with rhythm. The shells are lighter, the surfaces respond unevenly and the cymbal has a narrower sweet spot than a mass-produced model. Those differences make her more attentive to touch. A strong hit can overpower the whole arrangement, while a softer stroke reveals textures that a standard kit might hide.

Her live sets move between instrumental post-rock, folk percussion and electronic loops. She triggers samples with a foot controller but keeps the central rhythm acoustic. The contrast gives the songs a grounded pulse, particularly when the recycled drums are played alongside synths or processed guitar.

Bell says audiences often approach after shows to ask about the objects, but the most meaningful response comes when people remember a particular rhythm rather than the construction story. She compares the process to making a choice in a game of chance: the raw material offers possibilities, but the result depends on timing, control and knowing when to stop adding variables. For readers curious about that broader idea of calculated choices, a baccarat betting guide provides a very different example of how people weigh outcomes and risk.

Her next recordings will combine the full kit with field sounds captured around Melbourne’s train platforms and coastal roads. She is also preparing a short downloadable collection for listeners who enjoy unusual percussion and independent production. The project fits naturally alongside Lady Indie’s free MP3 archive, where music discovery remains direct, generous and free from the pressure of mainstream visibility.

Bell is still modifying the instrument. She wants a deeper floor tom, a quieter kick pedal and a cymbal with more sustain, but she has no intention of making the set perfect. Its character comes from the marks, limits and repairs that remain visible in the sound.

This week, she will record three takes of the same song with different recycled snare materials and keep the version with the strongest groove.