Resul Khalil explains the Crimean drum, the dare: 

Back in the 1970s, when we were performing, we mostly played percussion instruments. Our goal was to preserve our Crimean Tatar musical folklore.

Our traditional instruments include the darbuka and the daira. Among musicians, they say:
the daira is the father of music, and the violin is the mother.

The daira was mainly used during festive celebrations. It is considered an accompanying instrument — used for both dance pieces and songs, especially when singers performed, often in Turkish.

The process of making a darbuka begins with selecting the right wood. For example, I use walnut. All of my instruments are made from walnut.

You take the wood from about seventy centimeters above the root so that it’s clean, without defects. Then it’s cut at the sawmill into blanks.

While the wood is still wet, it’s steamed for about ten hours — I have a special steam room for this. After that, the wood becomes flexible and can be bent into shape.

First, you form the body, then make the hoop. After that, you prepare the plates — what we call the parts that hold everything together. Once assembled, the piece goes onto a lathe.

I process it on the machine, shaping and cutting it until it’s ready. That’s what gives the instrument its form — and ultimately its sound.

The skin for the drum is also carefully prepared. It’s soaked in a lime solution for one or two days. After that, the hair is removed by hand, and the inside is cleaned of fat.

Then it’s dried. Once ready, the skin is stretched onto the instrument. You smooth it with sandpaper or clean it carefully with a knife.

I soak the skin again until it becomes soft, like cloth. Then it’s placed onto the frame and pulled tight using a special device. After that, it’s glued and left to dry for about 24 hours.

Once it’s fully dry, the excess is trimmed away and everything is cleaned up.

Every instrument has its own character — its own sound. Even if they look similar, each one sounds different.

The sound depends on the skin, of course, but also on the craftsmanship. The shape must be perfect. If it’s uneven, the instrument simply won’t sound right.

You don’t make just one instrument at a time — it’s better to work on several. While one is drying, you continue working on another. Time shouldn’t be wasted — life is short. I want to create as much as I can.

If there’s a buyer, I’ll sell the instrument. But if there is a worthy person — a true musician who understands and appreciates it — I will give it as a gift.

For me, each instrument is like my own child.

The darbuka is a solo instrument — it should speak, it should resonate. It should produce sharp, clear sounds, like striking stone.