Apparently the Turks manufacture the good cymbals. There is even a very good company based in Switzerland, selling cymbals, originally Estonian.
Am I an expert on cymbals? No, definitely not, but when you are married to an amateur percussionist you see them come and go. People bring all sorts of things into the marriage. Mr. Swiss brought a set of drums with him, and cymbals to go with it. I always thought a high hat was a something you wear on your head. Forget it. It is that composition of two cymbals, one at the top and one at the bottom (on the left of the photo). There is a pedal attached as by putting pressure on the pedal the two cymbals clash together and make a suitable sound. That can be very percussive.
We once had quite a collection of cymbals, some very big, enormous, others smaller. Fellow percussionists came and went carrying away a cymbal that was no longer needed, because a new one had taken its place. For me they all sounded the same, but I am not a percussionist, just the wife. The nice thing about being married to a drummer is that the drum set lives in another room, we have a so-called hobby room in the cellar. Yes, they do make a lot of noise. We live on the ground floor and when my percussionist disappears into the cellar I do not hear anything. Apparently my neighbour opposite does, but she lives directly above our percussion room and it does not bother her so much.
That was the neighbour from 5 years ago. They come and go, I hope not because of the drummer in the house.
Now and again there might be a jam sessions when the boys (which are now golden oldies) decide to play together. They take their trumpet and bass with them as well as a keyboard. They are movable instruments. Mr. Swiss had parked his drum set in an extra room that he had for the purpose of jam sessions for a few years. It is a feat of the impossible to move a complete drum set every time a session is called for.
There was a time when there were engagements, playing at a the local jazz club now and again. That was combined with taking the drum set apart, putting it in the car and transporting it to wherever they were going to play. It had to be removed from the car and assembled once again. Thie was ok when it was local, but there were also places far away. The drummer was always the one who needed most time. When the gig (engagement) was completed, usually around midnight, the drum set was again dismantled and re-constructed for the home journey: the story of a drummer’s life.
But there were good times apart from all the moving of the percussion. Some might call it noise, but for me it was part of my life. Even drummers become golden oldies, although they still have the strength and energy to play.