By DANIEL DRUCKMAN

I met Roland Kohloff at the Waterloo Music Festival in the summer of 1976. I had just finished high school and was about to begin my studies at Juilliard. We were friends for 30 years, and for 15 of those years, I've had the opportunity and privilege to work with him as a colleague in the New York Philharmonic and to teach with him at Juilliard.

Roland's life was a complicated one, and seemed to mix in equal parts professional success with some personal hardships. His lifelong struggle with severe depression was in direct opposition to his position as one of the outstanding timpanists of the 20th century. But although it may seem strange to say about such a troubled soul, music came easily for Roland. One might even say effortlessly. He never seemed to have to analyze or dissect a score, or compare recordings or seek outside opinions. For that matter, he barely seemed to have to practice or even warm up. He was definitely the most natural player I've ever worked with. And simple—in the best sense of the word. As in elegant, precise, instinctive, nuanced. As in free of artifice or affect. As in always playing with musical conviction and a point of view.

I remember so many instances where I asked him about a particular turn of phrase or small crescendo or nuance that he had done, and he would respond with a quizzical look—as if to say, "Oh, is that what I did?" These things were so instinctive for Roland, and he didn't sweat about them too much, before or after; he didn't have to. He had that quiet confidence that when the moment came, he would know what to do.

Although I had a few lessons with Roland that first summer in Waterloo, I can't really count myself among his students. I did, however, spend a lot of time with him at Juilliard, at entrance exams and annual juries, and some of the same concepts applied. When evaluating students, he didn't feel the need to detail exhaustively what a performance lacked, but he responded immediately and instinctively to a superior performance, whether he was familiar with the music or not.

Read an obituary for Roland Kohloff.

Much as been written about the redemptive powers of music, and certainly this holds true for Roland. Music was a beacon and a guiding light for him, but I think the reality goes much deeper than that—down to this elemental, reductive logic. He was so great at what he did; it came so naturally, so effortlessly for him, in a life otherwise filled with turmoil. It was all he ever wanted, and in doing what he loved to do and needed to do, he enriched all of our lives immeasurably.

Daniel Druckman has been on the percussion faculty since 1991.