We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Derek Sharp (D#) a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Derek, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. One of the things we most admire about small businesses is their ability to diverge from the corporate/industry standard. Is there something that you or your brand do that differs from the industry standard? We’d love to hear about it as well as any stories you might have that illustrate how or why this difference matters.

To set the stage, I have a drum-n-guitar retail shop called Supersonic Music where I sell many different brands of gear. I also have a custom drum company called TreeHouse Custom Drums in the same building where I make drums that have been shipped all over the world. Almost twenty years ago, I had a customer at the shop pro-forma a huge drum set order from an internationally-known, high-end Drum Manufacturer (DM). All the details were there until he got to one drum that he wanted to be 7.5″ deep. DM offered 7″ or 8″, and this was their flagship — 8 drums that would ring in at over $14,000 with tax which was a massive order back then — and was touted as having so many options as to be “custom.” The buyer wanted 7.5″, but they said that they wouldn’t do it…not that  they couldn’t do it, but that they wouldn’t. As I make custom drums, I know that what we were talking about here was positioning a cylinder of wood in a cutting tool such that it’d be this deep instead of that deep. Absolutely not a big deal for me since I’d have to cut it somewhere! It may have taken DM’s manufacturing folks a little while to program the drill machine to move over the half inch, but my customer wasn’t a world-famous player, so DM wouldn’t do it.

Now, a huge difference between my small operation and DM is that they make in about a month around as many drums as I’ve made in a couple of decades. That degree of volume requires that they not slow down the machinations to accommodate a few outliers. I get it, but when their most expensive product advertises variety and customization, we thought that a little amendment would be expected; he was so angry he almost canceled the order.

My approach allows for each drum to be varied in several ways, just as the clients ordering them want. Regarding this story, the customer waited almost a year for his DM drums to arrive, played them a little over a year, then traded them back in against a different drumset order.

Derek, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I am Derek Sharp (D#) and have owned Supersonic Music since 1998. Supersonic Music is a retail drum-n-guitar shop in downtown Topeka with a second location in downtown Lawrence. Supersonic Music sells and services drums, guitars, PA systems, keyboards, and related accessories, as well offers lessons. It started in 1995 when I was in college working on a music teaching degree when an owner of a drum store in KC asked me to help him start a branch location in Topeka — he had dollars and stuff, I had time and location. I changed degrees to get a simpler BA which didn’t require the student teaching of a teaching degree so I’d be able to work at the new shop full time. For a couple of years, some weeks were 80 hours of putting up shelves, designing processes, buying insurance, setting up a security system, painting, building practice rooms, setting up accounting systems, paying taxes, displaying/selling/servicing drums, going to court for him, everything. After a wee ask for a bit of help with insurance for the kids after a couple of years, he laughed so I moved on elsewhere to be able to feed the family. A couple of years later, I was on break from that State job and stopped into his (new) Lawrence location where the manager told me he wanted to sell the Topeka shop.

7 bankers and a few friends-n-family members later, I was able to finance the purchase of the Topeka location in 1998; two years later I refinanced with the kind banker who helped me get started and bought the previous store owner’s Lawrence location, moved the Topeka location to a larger space and started TreeHouse Custom Drums. TreeHouse started literally and figuratively under Supersonic Music, that is, in the basement of the Topeka location, sharing the address, phone, utilities, etc. Things were tough at first with no new capital to draw from, just kind creditors at suppliers that allowed me to rotate being late with different ones each month. Fast forward to 2008 where two things happened: I got all caught up and wasn’t late with anyone any more and someone I didn’t know bought a drumset when I wasn’t there. Hithertofore, every TreeHouse sale was accompanied by either visiting with a client to dial in the details of what he wanted to have made, or chatting with customers on the sales floor about the drums they bought. In this case, someone came in and among everything available, chose a drumset I had made; this thing was bigger than me!

Folks ask me where the names came from. Somehow, I still remember my password to my student account on Washburn University’s mainframe from 1993 — once between rehearsals, I discovered the “anagram:” feature where you could type in a word and get an explosive reply of recombinations of the letters, so I typed in “percussion” to see what’d pop up. “Supersonic” was one of the responses which I found quite clever! Of course Percussion could create something Supersonic! I kept the word tucked away and used it for my store’s name. Instead of “Blah Blah Drums” or “Blah Blah Guitars” as a store name, I intentionally left off what we did so that people would ask. No, I don’t sell vinyl or have Beyoné’s latest CD, but when people call to ask, I mention that we’re a drum-n-guitar shop so as to plant that seed in the back of their minds in case they come across someone in their circles who are looking for what we sell. As for TreeHouse, she was 9 and I was 10 when we met. Across the street from the place into which we moved when I was in 6th grade was an empty lot with houses on either side. One day, I saw the branches rustling and what jumped out wasn’t a cat or squirrel.  I helped the most beautiful girl I had ever met make a treehouse in that tree in the corner of the lot — we sat up in there, staring at each other for years without knowing why.  Several years after we married, we built a treehouse in the backyard for our kids.  Now the grandkids play on it, so TreeHouse has deep roots in our family history.

With excellence as my minimum level of production, the drums are made right, and have now shipped to every continent except Antarctica and every state in the US…from a 24 foot 120ish-year-old downtown storefront in TopekaTown. As well guitars, drums and cymbals from Supersonic Music have shipped out to dozens of countries across the world. We even were awarded a “Small Business Exporter of the Year” award by our local downtown business association a few weeks ago. I still pinch myself! The store tries to appeal to all, although there are many brands out there we can’t get. I appeal to my employees to take upon themselves the  mantle of what Rushworth Kidder in his book Moral Courage identified as core moral values that are cherished by humans all over the world — honesty, responsibility, respect, fairness, and compassion — as virtues that we all apply to our customers, that is, as much as they wish that others would treat them with these virtues, treat our customers with these same values.

We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?

As a drummer who became a trained percussionist, then wandered into trying to figure out jazz drumset in his early 20s, I’ve grown an affinity for cymbals. Cymbals. The plates of brass/bronze that “go with” a drumset. They’re the crazy-expensive things that shock soccer moms who learn that even used decent ones cost more than the rest of Jr.’s beginning drumset. To the non-drummer, they seem an afterthought, if they’re perceived at all.

I met a drummer as a Sophomore in college. He was a mystery to me. He seemed…disconnected. He was an AMAZING player, but didn’t seem to care or try or show up on time. He did things in jazz band my little “rock drummer” brain just didn’t track. I was so green — despite being in 4 years of high school “jazz band” (which played Huey Lewis and the News covers for concerts) — I was clueless. The first rehearsal in my college student career exposed my ignorance of this style I wanted to love when the director, after a dozen minutes of the first rehearsal or so, called, “Go to the Head!” Having recently watched some WWII naval battle movie, I thought I was clever enough to understand that he was calling a potty break (the Head is the toilet on a ship.) So I put my sticks down and started to stand up, relieved that I’d get a wee break from this confusing music I didn’t understand how to play. He hollered, “Derek, get back in your seat and start us up!” I pounded away so nervous I couldn’t hear myself. Turns out that “Head” refers to the beginning of the song in JazzSpeak. That other drummer showed, I asked him to step in, he totally nailed it with stuff I couldn’t comprehend.

Weeks later, he and I were chatting about the lack-of-virtue in the products of an American icon: Levi Jeans. Levi 501 Button Fly Jeans. Famously worn on millions of butts from ours back to 1800s cowboys…and they were always defective –> I’d put on my left leg, then p.u.t. o.n. m.y. r.i.g.h.t. leg. He said Yeah! He put on his right leg, then p.u.t. o.n. h.i.s. l.e.f.t. leg. Why couldn’t they get it right?!? That’s when it clicked: in my drumming style of rock (and country, reggae, most Latin styles, metal, hip hop, funk, soul, pop, etc. for that matter), the time was on the drums and cymbals were spice; in jazz, the time was on the cymbals and drums were spice. The jeans were fine. My right leg muscles were bigger for thumping the bass drum pedal whereas his left leg muscles were bigger for stomping on the Hi Hat stand (a part of the drumset where two cymbals clap together to keep time by means of stepping on a pedal-operated stand). Eureka! The cymbals were the click in jazz that cut through the room and were heard by the nervous 3rd trumpet player who wasn’t always sure where we were, but lifelined (if not knowingly, subconsciously) to the drummer for the beacon of time. He couldn’t always hear the drums which might sound similar to the upright bass, but the cymbals cut. I was on to something! In rock, play the drum pattern, then add or vary the cymbals and you’re fine. Vary the drums and the dancers stop and you’re not hired back. So I started playing cymbals on jazz drumsets much more seriously.

I learned the word “idiophone.” I got “membranophone” which is a drum that makes sound when the membrane is vibrated — “aerophone” is exampled by a flute whose air column vibrates, a “chordophone” is exampled by the guitar whose chords vibrate — but idiophones became my favorites because they were themselves. Idiophones are instruments whose own substance vibrates to make sound like wood blocks, cymbals, gongs and triangles. I became obsessed with how many things you could do to change the sound of those otherphones, but idiophones were less adjustable, therefore, to my ear at least, there were better- and worse-sounding cymbals. Then, as I learned how to be a jazz drummer, my quest began for the Holy Grail cymbal that jazz drummers are teased about. We’re always looking for that Perfect Ride (the ride cymbals are hit with sticks and work with Hi Hats to keep the beat) that has many voices and sounds like <<insert favorite jazz drummer here because we’re notorious copycats>>. After years of dating potential cymbals, a special one handmade by an artisan in a village in the Tuscan hills of Italy, now resides on my drumset.

So that’s a taste of the back story that flavors my perceptions. As an owner of a drum store, it was inconceivable to me that other drummers wouldn’t have such love affairs with their precious metal. Unwittingly, I imposed my values upon my customers by not just posting cymbals online as I wanted to be like the big stores who had the time and staff to make custom videos and sound files for EVERY fancy ride they sold. At issue was my ignorance of that guy (and the approach he takes) in Idaho 300 miles from a music store who did just press “buy it now” on my site at 2:am after we slapped a few cymbal listings on our website to see what would happen. No comments about condition, questions about potential damage, requests for soundfiles, nothing but an anonymous purchase online about 13 or 15 years ago. It was then that I realized that there’s a whole market I’m missing by not serving, maybe even dissing by not approaching. There are legitimate players who see cymbals as commodities similar to a box of pens or a ream of paper (my heart rate increases as I type) because they just want a thing to whack on a 3-month tour that they’ll probably break (BE STILL my beating heart!) before tossing into the audience, returning to the studio to work up another project, then head out for another tour to promote that work with a new round of fresh cymbals. Legit, but not the way I think. Wow. Humbling, and a hard lesson learned.

Now, we do try to get soundfiles and a short video of the exceptional pieces, but we list several cymbals just by description and price — and folks buy them. I’m still learning and still trying to get better at jazz, tho I don’t fit those skinny jeans any more…

Can you talk to us about how you funded your business?

“Don’t Tell The Banker: It’s Not Just About Money!” adorns the inside cover of the employee handbook. I mean, I know there has to be profit for a business to exist and succeed, it’s just that that wasn’t the primary reason I became an entrepreneur with two retail locations and a custom instrument building endeavor. I like the people with whom I work; no boss is looming over me telling me to do stupid, illegal or immoral stuff; if there is financial success, I get to decide where it goes; I get to decide the order in which I do stuff. That’s all on the “me” side. More importantly, the businesses have enabled several long-time employees to get favorable reactions from their bankers when they applied for home mortgages; I’ve attended four weddings of employees; helped celebrate with these employees the births of 5 young’uns; thousands of customers are served every year; many teachers as independent contractors have been able to pursue their passions and work out their entrepreneurship; schools, churches, at-risk youth camps, hospitals, jails, missions, symphonies and other groups, as well their students/members/attendees/etc., from near and far have had their needs met; young ones and old ones have had advice and received mentorship — these things are more important than the almighty dollar, but require fundage to operate.

So I visited some bankers. After a couple of years managing the store, I got a state job pouring diesel on my boots working for the KS Dept. of Agriculture as a Petroleum Inspector. Not that I was testing fuels, rather, I tested the fuel pumps at harbors, airports, and gas stations across 22 counties in SE Kansas so I could get insurance for the kids. A particularly whack week at work happened about two years into the job when a valve failed and about 25 gallons of diesel hit me suddenly at chest level followed by news from the boss that he wouldn’t approve payment for replacing some personal goods in the accident. On the way home, I stopped by the store-I-used-to-work-for’s second location in Lawrence. Smelling like an oil refinery, the new manager pointed at me when I walked in and hollered, “we didn’t think about YOU!” Hi Dave. What’s going on? Dave said that the owner wanted to sell the Topeka store location and I began wondering if it was time to hang up the stinky clothes.

Turns out on that Thursday that my wife and I were planning on signing some debt consolidation papers the next day to refinance the house and kill some credit cards. We didn’t sign the papers, thinking I might need whatever collateral was available in the house to present to a banker if I got a loan to buy the store. I identified 32 things that weekend that I perceived had to happen were I to be able to own a store, and I perceived that I had the capacity to execute 3, maybe 4 of those things. Stuff like replacement vehicle, moving, lots of financing coming in, acceptance by vendors of my being a creditworthy buyer of goods despite no ownership experience, insurance overhaul, learning all kinds of tax stuff I didn’t know about…the list was long! As a youthful man of faith, I expressed much hubris to God by asking Him please to either open the doors or slam them shut so I wouldn’t be wasting anyone’s time. He chose to blow the doors off of the hinges.

A book I found at the library was entitled something like, “Write a Great Business Plan,” or similar. I had no idea what “Business Plan” meant, but it seemed important. The book said that if one were in a similar situation to mine (working full-time, but thinking about quitting and staring a retail business with using bank loans), a good 2 or 3 nights a week solid effort ought to produce a decent Business Plan in about 6 months. It was done 6 weeks later. The most exhaustive research paper I had ever written, my Business Plan explored which security system I would use, the average income of folks within the zip code of the store’s location, average street traffic in front of the facility, ideas about leasing the business space from the landlord, accountant, taxes, insurance, competitors, customers, 3 years’ pro-forma cash flow statement (whatever THAT meant)…the topics addressed were as much as I could imagine an investor would want to know. I tightened the belt on the wedding suit I’d last worn 6 years prior and started visiting bankers. Some wouldn’t talk to me, some took the info and promised to look it over and reply, one man took the info and did reply. Many thanks to Chris for taking the time, seeing a spark in this 26-year-old before him living in what the government called “Abject Poverty” and eventually approving a six-figure loan to get things going. My guess is that he didn’t care about what insurance company or brand of security alarm I thought I’d use, rather, here’s a kid who might make it because he took the time to write out stuff about insurance agencies and security companies — maybe he’ll pay attention to other details and make it work.

I asked family members, friends, parents of students and others for financial assistance to help make it work. Most in my circle were not financially able, though many good vibes and encouragement came my way which helped immeasurably! A few folks accepted my offer: give me $5,000.00, unencumbered, with no business ownership or operational influence whatsoever, no payments over time, just a promise of $6,200.00 in a lump sum in 3 years. That’s 8% simple interest, not compounded. I presented the risk as a diversification of whatever they were doing with a better than 50/50 chance that they’d get paid since I’d worked there and the business had survived four years of existence up to that point. That, married with the collateral from the house’s second mortgage and selling all the country stuff we had (a boat, guns, riding mower…stuff we wouldn’t use in town after the move) finally materialized as the percentage I had to pitch in to satisfy the banker’s checklist.

I figured ten years into the business I’d be able to afford to move to a bigger space. About 18 months into the business, I discovered a downtown building with eight times the space as the wee shop I was renting that was available for only $300/month more than I was paying in rent at that time. We moved with an agreement with the new landlord that I’d pay the first month’s rent, then resume paying rent 4 months later — and I’d clean up their disasterplan of a space on me (won’t get it if you don’t ask!) The lady from the county called a while later questioning my claim of the roof-mounted air conditioning unit as personal property: I paid for it, because the landlord wouldn’t and I’d be taking it with me if I ever moved! That same year, I was approached again by the former business owner asking if I wanted to buy the Lawrence location.

Although I was sure he’d say no so soon after the ink dried, I went back to the banker to see about the second store’s acquisition just a year and a half after this all started…and he refinanced, saying, “Yes!” What a blessing! That same year we started an 11-year stint running a handdrum booth at the KC Renaissance Festival — a new business altogether — under the first. As the same year that TreeHouse Custom Drums started, that made for a crazy busy year!

Just a couple of years later, the landlord wanted us to buy the Topeka space. Again, I assumed it’d be too much and declined. He actually hired a dude — looking like a made man in the Mafioso — to come walk through all big and blustery about how he was gonna change this and move that when he buys the place after the lease was up in a few months. Freaked about how we’d move so much ensconced gear to another place, I went back to the banker with my hat in my hand to ask for a mortgage, and he said, “Yes!” I was flabbergasted but recognized something bigger was going on. Oh, and I paid off those friends in full and on time.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.supersonicmusic.com and www.treehousedrums.com
• Facebook: Supersonic Music and Supersonic Music – Lawrence and TreeHouse Drums