Christoph Schneider, the drummer of Rammstein, once advised aspiring musicians—particularly drummers—not to fall into the trap of thinking, “It’s not important.” That short sentence hides a pitfall that can stall growth, distort priorities, and delay progress in ways many beginners don’t even realize until they’ve been stuck for years. “It’s not important” becomes a kind of shield that people use to protect themselves from the hard work of improvement, a way to dismiss things that feel frustrating, boring, or difficult. But in doing so, they overlook the very details that make the difference between average and excellent.
When someone is first starting out as a drummer—or really, in any discipline—it’s easy to prioritize the flashy stuff. Fast fills, double kick patterns, crazy solos. Those are the things that get applause, right? Those are what people notice in a YouTube video or on stage. So, early drummers often focus there. They might think, “Why should I bother with proper grip?” or “Why do I need to practice quarter notes with a metronome at 60 bpm?” Then comes the phrase: “It’s not important.” Except, it is. Everything is important when you’re learning.
The reason Christoph’s advice resonates is because it touches on the mindset that separates long-term growth from short-lived enthusiasm. The foundations—technique, timing, feel, control—are not optional extras. They’re not something you fix later. They’re what everything else is built on. When you tell yourself that a technical detail isn’t important, you’re deciding not to build part of the foundation. And the higher you try to build on a weak base, the more unstable everything becomes.
Many beginners underestimate how much time professional musicians spend on the basics. People assume that once you reach a certain level, you stop practicing rudiments or slow grooves. But the opposite is often true. Seasoned drummers like Schneider return to the fundamentals over and over again—not because they’re weak, but because they understand how essential those basics are to everything they do. It’s not a step to skip; it’s the step you keep coming back to. The act of constantly refining what might seem “unimportant” is part of the discipline.
There’s also a psychological dimension to it. “It’s not important” is a way to avoid discomfort. When something is difficult—like maintaining even strokes at slow tempos or playing a groove steadily for 10 minutes without variation—it’s easy to dismiss it. We crave novelty, speed, and complexity because they’re exciting. But excitement can be the enemy of consistency. The real challenge lies in being precise, patient, and persistent. That kind of work rarely feels thrilling in the moment, but it creates the muscle memory and discipline that pay off when the stakes are high—on stage, in a studio, or during a live show with thousands of people watching.
Schneider’s own drumming reflects this mindset. While Rammstein’s music can be heavy and aggressive, his parts are rarely overcomplicated. His playing is tight, deliberate, and powerful. It sits perfectly in the mix without trying to dominate. That level of control doesn’t happen by accident—it’s the result of years spent mastering the “unimportant” things. Playing to a click. Locking in with the bassist. Hitting the drums with consistent dynamics. These are the kinds of details that make a band sound massive. And yet, to a beginner, they might seem trivial.
Another problem with the “it’s not important” mindset is that it creates blind spots. You start overlooking your weaknesses. Maybe you never practice your non-dominant hand because it feels awkward. Maybe you ignore dynamics because you’re focused on speed. Over time, those gaps grow. And eventually, they show up when you least expect them—during a recording session, a live performance, or an audition. By then, fixing them takes twice as long, because you’ve built habits on top of them.
What’s more, this attitude can prevent you from becoming a well-rounded musician. Drumming is not just about playing your part—it’s about listening, adapting, and communicating with other musicians. That means understanding groove, song structure, rhythm theory, and tone. If you dismiss those areas early on, thinking they’re not important, you limit your own growth. You might develop speed or power, but without taste or musicality. In a band context, that becomes a liability. The best drummers are the ones who know when not to play, who understand how to serve the song rather than their ego.
It’s also worth mentioning that small details matter even more in high-pressure environments. In the studio, engineers and producers will notice if your timing drifts by even a few milliseconds. On tour, a sloppy technique can lead to injuries when you’re playing every night. What might seem unimportant in your bedroom practice session can become a critical issue when you’re working professionally. That’s why pros like Schneider place so much emphasis on consistency, economy of motion, and ergonomics. They’re not just trying to sound good—they’re trying to last.
There’s no shortcut here. You have to put in the hours on the “boring” stuff. But that’s also where the joy is. When you master something simple—like playing a clean single-stroke roll or holding down a groove with perfect feel—you start to realize that those small victories are the real rewards. They give you confidence, control, and creativity. And they prepare you for the moments when it does matter—on stage, in the studio, or during a live take.
Sometimes, when you circle back to something you thought wasn’t important and finally take the time to master it, you realize just how wrong you were. Maybe that flam tap you always skipped actually improves your transitions. Maybe those stick control exercises sharpen your ghost notes. Maybe that boring metronome practice transforms your internal clock. These aren’t luxuries. They’re the building blocks of professional-level playing.
The other side of this advice is humility. Saying “it’s not important” is also a way of saying, “I already know enough.” But real musicians never stop learning. Even the best drummers in the world are students of the craft. They read, listen, observe, and practice with curiosity. If someone like Schneider, with decades of experience and global success, still emphasizes the basics, what excuse do the rest of us have?
Finally, there’s a broader life lesson here. The mindset you bring to drumming often reflects how you approach challenges in general. Do you avoid what’s hard or unfamiliar? Do you cut corners when no one’s watching? Or do you take pride in doing the little things right, even when they don’t seem to matter in the moment? That’s the difference between someone who dabbles and someone who commits. And commitment, not talent, is what sets professionals apart from hobbyists.
So when Christoph Schneider warns against thinking “it’s not important,” he’s not just talking about drumming. He’s pointing out a trap that applies to any skill, any discipline. It’s a reminder to respect the process, to honor the craft, and to trust that everything you do—even the things that seem small—adds up. Every stroke, every note, every rep matters. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you start making real progress.
Ignore that voice in your head that wants to skip ahead. Instead, slow down. Pay attention. Do the work. Because in the end, it’s all important.
