If you’ve decided to learn the drums online, you’re in a wonderful position.There has never been a better time to become a drummer.
Not very long ago, your options were fairly limited. You could find a local drum teacher, buy an instructional book, or, if you were lucky, get your hands on an instructional VHS tape or DVD. If none of those options worked for you, learning the drums became much more difficult.
Today, the opposite problem exists.
There are thousands of drum lessons on YouTube. Hundreds of online courses. Subscription platforms containing enormous libraries of content. Downloadable books, play-along tracks, online communities, and world-class drummers sharing their knowledge with anyone who wants to learn.
In many ways, it’s never been easier to begin.
It’s also never been more confusing.
If you’ve never played before, how do you know which course is actually right for you? Should you choose the one with the most videos?
The most famous instructors?
The biggest community?
The lowest price?
The highest production quality?
Those are reasonable questions.
But after teaching beginning drummers for more than twenty years, I’ve come to believe they’re probably not the first questions I’d ask.
If someone close to me—a friend, a family member, or one of my own students—asked how I would choose an online drum course if I were starting from scratch today, my advice would probably surprise them.
I wouldn’t begin by comparing the number of lessons.
I wouldn’t start by comparing prices.
And I certainly wouldn’t assume that the biggest course is automatically the best one.
Instead, I’d begin by asking a much simpler question.
Who am I trusting to guide my first steps as a drummer?
To me, that’s the real decision.
Everything else comes after that.
One of the biggest mistakes I think beginners make is believing they’re choosing between collections of videos.
They’re not.
They’re choosing the person—or group of people—they’re going to learn from.
That may sound like a small distinction, but I think it’s one of the most important decisions you’ll make.
Imagine you’ve decided to hike a mountain you’ve never climbed before.
Would you choose a guide based on how many maps they own?
Probably not.
You’d choose the person you trust to get you to the top.
Someone who knows the route.
Someone who knows where beginners usually get into trouble.
Someone who understands what to do when things don’t go according to plan.
Learning the drums isn’t much different.
The internet has already solved the problem of access to information.
There are more drum lessons available today than any one person could watch in a lifetime.
Finding information isn’t the challenge anymore.
Knowing which information matters right now is.
A good teacher makes those decisions for you.
They know what should come first.
They know what can wait until later.
They understand which concepts tend to confuse beginners and which skills make everything else easier to learn.
They’re not simply giving you information.
They’re guiding your development.
Looking back at my own musical education, I realize how fortunate I was to have that kind of guidance.
When I began taking drum lessons, I never remember wondering what I should practice next.
My teacher had already made that decision.
He chose the books.
He assigned the exercises.
He decided when I was ready to move on.
At the time, I probably took that for granted.
Today I realize what an incredible gift it was.
I wasn’t spending my energy trying to design my own education.
I was spending it learning.
That’s one of the greatest values a good beginner course can provide.
Whether it’s taught by one instructor or an entire team of teachers, the question I’d be asking isn’t:
“How much content am I getting?”
It’s:
“Do I trust these people to guide me?”
Everything else flows from that answer.
Once I’ve decided that I’m really choosing a teacher rather than simply buying videos, the next question becomes obvious.
Who is this person?
It’s easy to be impressed by a famous name.
It’s easy to be impressed by incredible chops or a dazzling drum solo.
And don’t get me wrong—I’d much rather learn from someone whose playing I admire than someone whose playing leaves me uninspired.
But great playing and great teaching aren’t always the same thing.
Teaching beginners is its own skill.
I’d want to know whether this instructor has actually spent years helping beginners overcome the challenges that every new drummer faces.
Can they explain difficult ideas in simple language?
Do they avoid assuming prior knowledge?
Do they understand the frustrations that cause so many beginners to quit?
Can they recognize the difference between someone who needs encouragement and someone who needs a challenge?
Those are teaching skills.
They’re every bit as important as musical ability.
I’d also spend some time simply watching the instructor play.
Not because I expect to sound like them overnight.
But because every teacher passes along more than information.
They pass along their musical taste.
Their values.
Their approach to making music.
If I’m going to spend the next several months—or perhaps the next year—learning from someone, I’d like to know that I genuinely admire the musician they’ve become.
Because whether we realize it or not, we tend to become a little bit like the people we study with.
And I think that’s a good thing—as long as we’ve chosen wisely.
One of the next questions I’d ask is surprisingly simple.
“If I finish this course, what kind of drummer should I expect to become?”
That doesn’t mean an instructor should make unrealistic promises.
No honest teacher can guarantee how quickly you’ll learn or exactly where you’ll be six months from now.
Every student learns at a different pace, practices a different amount, and brings different strengths and challenges to the instrument.
But a good beginner course should still have a destination.
When I look at a course, I want to be able to picture the journey.
Will I develop good technique?
Will I learn to read drum notation?
Will I be able to sit down at the drums and just play–and sound great doing that?
Will I understand how to play along with a bassist?
The answers don’t have to be identical from one course to another.
Different teachers have different priorities.
But I want to know there are priorities.
One of the easiest ways to recognize a thoughtfully designed course is that every lesson seems to be moving toward something bigger.
You’re not just collecting beats–you’re learning independence.
You’re becoming a drummer.
If I can’t tell where a course is taking me, I’d probably keep looking.
Because if the destination isn’t clear, it’s difficult to know whether the path makes sense.
But if it IS clear, often that means there’s a real plan at play.
This may be the most overlooked question of all.
As I evaluate an instructor, one of the things I’d naturally wonder is:
“Why do they teach the way they do?”
Every experienced teacher develops beliefs about learning.
Those beliefs come from years of studying, years of teaching, years of making mistakes, and years of observing what actually helps students improve.
Over time, those beliefs become a teaching philosophy.
And from that philosophy grows a teaching framework.
In my own case, years of studying with great teachers, reflecting on my own development, teaching beginners, and observing countless drummers eventually led me to develop what I call the Five Pillars of Drumming: Reading, Technique, Independence, Groove, and Vocabulary.
I didn’t begin with the Five Pillars.
They were the conclusion.
They grew out of a much larger question that I’ve been asking myself for years:
What skills do all successful drummers eventually seem to develop?
The more I studied great drummers—and the more I taught beginners—the more convinced I became that these five areas consistently appeared, regardless of style or genre.
That observation became my philosophy.
The Five Pillars became the framework that grew out of it.
If I’m evaluating another beginner course, I don’t expect every teacher to organize their teaching exactly the way I do.
That isn’t the point.
What I’d want to know is whether they’ve gone through a similar process.
Have they thought deeply about how beginners learn?
Have they developed a coherent way of thinking about the instrument?
Or does the course simply feel like a collection of interesting lessons?
Those are very different things.
As a beginner, you may not be able to evaluate every technical decision your teacher makes.
But you can ask whether it appears they’ve spent years thinking carefully about why they teach the way they do.
To me, that’s a very encouraging sign.
There’s one more question I’d ask that has nothing to do with curriculum, pricing, or technology.
I’d simply ask myself:
“Do I actually want to play like this person?”
That may sound obvious, but I don’t think enough people ask it.
When you’re learning from someone, you’re doing more than purchasing access to information.
You’re spending time with their musical ideas.
You’re learning what they consider important.
You’re absorbing their taste, their musical values, and their approach to the instrument.
That’s why I’d spend some time watching them play.
Not just a flashy solo.
Watch them play a groove.
Watch them accompany a song.
Watch how they interact with other musicians.
Ask yourself:
“Does this inspire me?”
One of my favorite memories from my own musical education had nothing to do with a drum lesson.
When I was thirteen or fourteen years old, I went to hear my teacher, Charlie Davidman, play with his rock band in a club on Staten Island.
To this day I can still remember the atmosphere.
The room was dark.
The band was loud.
The guitars were roaring.
Charlie’s clear Ludwig Vistalite drums looked incredible under the stage lights, and they sounded every bit as good as they looked.
I was completely captivated.
I didn’t walk away thinking about stickings or exercises.
I walked away thinking,
“I want to be able to do that.”
At that age, I had no idea whether Charlie had a carefully developed teaching philosophy.
I couldn’t have evaluated his curriculum even if I’d wanted to.
But I knew one thing.
I admired him.
I respected him.
I wanted to become the kind of musician he was.
Looking back, I think that mattered more than I realized.
Every week I walked into my lesson believing I was learning from someone who had already traveled the road I hoped to travel someday.
That belief made it easy to trust the process.
And I think there’s a lesson in that.
If you find yourself genuinely inspired by the person teaching you, learning becomes about much more than completing lessons.
It becomes about growing into the kind of musician you hope to become.
Not everyone learns the same way.
Some people love having access to an enormous library of lessons.
They enjoy exploring, following their curiosity, and jumping from one topic to another.
Other people prefer something much more structured.
Neither approach is inherently better.
They’re simply different.
Personally, I fall into the second group.
When I was learning to play, one of the greatest gifts my teacher gave me wasn’t just the information he shared—it was the clarity he provided.
I never had to wonder what I should practice next.
I didn’t spend my evenings trying to decide whether I should work on fills, reading, technique, or grooves.
Charlie had already thought about those decisions.
My job was simply to practice.
That allowed me to devote my mental energy to improving instead of planning.
Some beginners thrive in a learning environment that offers unlimited choices.
Others find that too many choices become distracting.
Only you know which type of learner you are.
The same is true when it comes to subscriptions versus owning a course.
Some students love subscription platforms because they’re always discovering something new.
They enjoy browsing a large library and don’t mind paying as long as they’re actively using it.
Others prefer purchasing a course once and owning it permanently.
I’m in that camp myself.
I still have notebooks from lessons I took decades ago.
Every once in a while I’ll pull one off the shelf and rediscover an exercise or idea I’d forgotten.
I enjoy knowing that those lessons are still mine to revisit whenever I choose.
Neither model is objectively right or wrong.
The important thing is finding one that matches the way you naturally like to learn.
If you’ve made it this far, I hope one idea has become clear.
Choosing an online drum course isn’t just about comparing features or deciding which course appears to offer the most value.
It’s about choosing the person—or the people—you trust to guide your development as a musician.
Before making your decision, spend a little time getting to know the instructor.
Watch them play.
Listen to them explain ideas.
Read what they’ve written.
Try to understand not only what they teach, but why they teach it that way.
Do they have a thoughtful philosophy?
Can you see where they’re trying to take you?
Do you admire them as a musician?
Do you believe they’ll help you become the kind of drummer you hope to become?
If the answer is yes, you’ve probably found someone worth learning from.
The wonderful thing about learning drums today is that there are more opportunities than ever before.
There are many excellent teachers, many excellent courses, and many different paths that can lead to success.
My hope is simply that you’ll choose one thoughtfully.
Because in the beginning, the most valuable thing a teacher gives you isn’t just information.
It’s confidence.
Confidence that you’re working on the right things.
Confidence that you’re building a solid foundation.
Confidence that someone with experience has already thought carefully about the journey you’re beginning.
When you have that kind of guidance, you can spend less time wondering what to do next…
…and more time doing what you wanted to do in the first place.
Making music.
Feel free to explore our online drum lessons for beginners.
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