1990s Djembe Craftsmanship: A Lost Standard

Before the 1990s, djembe craftsmanship followed standards established by African drummers. The shell had to resonate well while remaining light enough not to exhaust the player carrying it.

Pre-stretched ropes were introduced by Westerners, a double-edged improvement in my opinion, along with the “step” at the bottom of the shell, which made it easier to position the small ring. This one is genuinely helpful. Decoration, which used to be limited to a few upholstery tacks, began to flourish, and we started seeing intricate carvings and geometric patterns on the base of djembes. So far, so good.

After the 1990s, djembe craftsmanship began to change as Western and Asian orders started to pour in. Carvers started prioritizing beautiful wood species and visually appealing exteriors, highly valued by foreign buyers. In return, they gradually reduced the hardest part of the work. Not the decoration. The inside. The hardest area to reach, the most exhausting to work on, and the one where the risk of cracking an almost finished instrument is highest.

Over time, the standard weight of an average djembe with a 37 cm head went from 6 to 7 kg to 10 to 12 kg. Many young carvers now think it’s normal to make djembes over 10 kg. Thirty years ago, I spent days with carvers watching them work. Djembes over 10 kg simply weren’t the norm back then.

1990 Djembe Craftsmanship Standards

A few years ago, I decided to have djembes carved according to my own standards. I tested carvers in two different countries before choosing one. I spent time observing how they worked, how they approached the internal carving of the shell, and how consistent they were from one instrument to the next. The exterior decoration was never my priority. What mattered was the inside: the thickness of the walls, the balance of the shell, and the way the sound chamber was shaped.

The carver I eventually chose was excellent from the start. His skill was clearly above the usual high-end production. However, like many experienced carvers today, he was used to a market where buyers are perfectly satisfied with heavier instruments. Carving deeper into the most difficult parts of the shell, especially inside the narrow upper section, meant more work, more time, and a higher risk of damaging the instrument. Even with his level of skill, pushing the carving further in those areas was a real challenge, simply because it goes against the production habits that have become common over the last decades.

It eventually took until the fourteenth model before I was truly satisfied.

The last two are staying with me. The first models have been sold, and a few are still waiting for their future owners.

The 37 cm one weighs 6.6 kg bare shell, and the 40 cm one weighs 7 kg. Inside, a metal ring is placed near the edge to prevent the shell from going out of round under tension, thanks to Adama Dramé, who shared this “secret” with me decades ago. Being a bit old-school on some points, I still use the old flat rope we don’t really see much anymore today.

All these elements combined shape instruments that sound closer to what djembes sounded like before the 1990s. Still, an instrument alone cannot do much. On the other side of the djembe are the hands that make it sound.