SKF NOTE – My Uncle Bob sparked my lifelong love of all things drums. And one vivid recollection of Uncle Bob, probably in the late 1950s or early 1960s (he died when I was age 14) is him telling my brother Craig and me, “The world’s greatest drummer is Louis Bellson.”
Yeah, I know “the world’s greatest drummer” designation is arguable, but I remembered Louie’s name. In the early 70s, living in Davenport, IA, I was excited to learn Louie’s hometown of Moline, IL was just across the Mississippi River. I met several people who knew Louie and had seen him play at area nightclubs.
Louie’s dad’s music store, where Louie studied drums, was still in business. And one afternoon I had a chance to see Louie in person at a local high school gymnasium, I believe.
This 1969 Rogers Drum ad featuring Bellson is one of my favorite photos of the drummer. During his long career Louie endorsed several drum brands. Pearl, Gretsch, Slingerland, and Remo come to mind. And whether or not he was “the world’s greatest drummer,” Louie Bellson was certainly one of them.
Fortunately for drummer alive today, and for drummers yet born, Bellson made a bunch of records with other bandleaders and under his own name. And there are several worthwhile Bellson videos available.
SKF NOTE: One more of my favorite interview moments of Neil Peart explaining his drumming.
Neil Peart: Transitions are much overlooked. But they’re the weakness of many a drummer. He can lay down a nice feel and move to another feel. But the points in between , and bridging the transition between two interpretations of the rhythm, is where a lot of people fall down. It’s still the thing on which I spend the most focus.
When I’m rehearsing our songs with the click track I reverse our roles. As I’m playing a fill I’ll keep track, in another part of my mind, of how my fill affects the click track.
When I play the song without the click, I’m already conscious of the interrelation of metronome to rhythm and flow. Bridging those transitions as smoothly as possible becomes a thing of great moment too.
Then, from a listening layman’s, or [a] beginning drummer’s, point of view it’s: “Now that’s not hard. I could play that.”
SKF NOTE: I wrote this column. It appeared originally in the Piscataquis Observer newspaper, May 31, 2019.
Since I am no longer employed at the Maine State House (1989 – 2012), I haven’t tried this experiment. But every now and then, while at the State House, I would take one workday and ask people:
If I ask you to name a famous drummer, which drummer first comes to mind?
As someone passionate about drumming, very familiar with the history of drumming and drummers — I was curious to know how drummers appeared to the outside world. That’s all. And asking legislators, lobbyists, visitors, staffers, to name a famous drummer, seemed an easy yardstick by which to measure.
A few people had no response, but most State House inhabitants I asked had, to me, a surprising response. The two famous drummers most often named were Gene Krupa and Ringo Starr. What surprised me was, Krupa was mentioned more often than Ringo.
Gene Krupa’s drumming career started in the 1920s, continuing until Krupa died in 1973. His career first skyrocketed as the drummer for Benny Goodman’s Orchestra (big band) at Goodman’s 1938 Carnegie Hall Concert. Krupa’s concert drum solo on “Sing, Sing, Sing” is considered the first extended drum solo in jazz.
In a familiar interview later in Krupa’s life, he summed up his musical contribution this way: “I’m happy that I succeeded in doing two things. I made the drummer a high-priced guy, and I was able to project enough so that I was able to draw more people to jazz.”
Up-and-coming drummers still cite Gene Krupa as a key influence.
My first exposure to Gene Krupa happened when I was six years old. My Uncle Bob Fish, an amateur drummer, had Gene Krupa’s 1956 quartet recording of “China Boy.” The sound of Krupa’s drumming on that record mesmerized me. Krupa’s drum rolls, especially, on that fast song were puzzling. How does he play that fast? And, as a six-year old, holding a pair of Uncle Bob’s drumsticks, trying to mimic Krupa, I knew at that moment I could not do what Krupa was doing, and I knew I was going to learn how. Someday.
The late actor Sal Mineo starred in a 1959 movie, “The Gene Krupa Story,” which helped spread the word about Krupa the “Drummer Man.”
I haven’t seen “The Gene Krupa Story,” which surprised Rush drummer/lyricist Neil Peart. “You have to see it,” he said. For one thing, the movie was quite influential to young Neil Peart. (Sal Mineo as Krupa appears to play drums in the movie. But, Krupa himself played drums for the movie soundtrack.) Mostly, I think Neil recommended the movie as a rite of passage for any serious drummer. One day, I suppose, I’ll ease my conscience and watch “The Gene Krupa Story.”
My early encounter with the sound of Krupa’s drumming started me along a lifetime career path of learning to play drums, and also, immersing myself in books, magazine and newspaper articles, and record liner notes to learn everything I could about the history of drummers and drumming. Mine was a musical career path through the history of jazz, blues, rock, country, Latin, African, Asian — all kinds of drum history.
How important are drums to music? Well, next time you’re listening to your favorite music, imagine it without drums. Max Roach, a major historical drummer, said what distinguishes one style of music from another is the rhythm. A C-major chord is the same regardless of musical style.
I’ll have to dust off my famous drummer question soon and see what happens. But, from anecdotal evidence it would not surprise me to have Krupa’s name at the top of the list.
And that’s not bad for a young upstart who stuck his neck out in 1938, and forever changed what drummers do forevermore.
SKF NOTE: My self-study of drummers started in the 1960s. By age 14 I started my lifelong study of the history of drummers, drums, and drumming. Liner notes, magazines, local jazz radio stations, and books were my prime information sources. Music albums were available as vinyl 33 1/3 RPM long-playing records, holding an average 20-minutes of music per side. An album with a total 45-minutes of music was a bonus.
This October 9, 1975 Zutty Singleton obituary (Down Beat) reminds me of how difficult it was, for many years, to find records of some of the noted drummers. With the first historical drummers, like Zutty, who started recording in 1928, recording techniques didn’t do drummers justice. The popular 78-RPM records were limited to about two-and-a-half minutes per song. Drummers were often forced to record with partial drumsets. Bass drums, for instance, were verboten or covered with muffling blankets.
Obit writer Arnold Jay Smith tells us Zutty started as a New Orleans drummer who became “a major influence on Chicagoans George Wettling and Dave Tough.”
“His solos were not mere show-offy flaying of sticks, but improvisations that interwove the melody with drum, cymbals, sticks and brushes into a quiltwork…,” writes Smith.
Digital technology has made all kinds of music available as never before. Want to see/hear Zutty Singleton? No problem. Just type his name in your web browser and hit the “search” button.
SKF NOTE: A 45-year old concert review (Down Beat, Oct. 9, 1975) of the Tony Williams Lifetime. Hard to imagine. This is the Fred Lifetime: Alan Holdsworth (gtr), Alan Pasqua (keyboards), Tony Newton (bass), and Tony Williams.
DB Reviewer Scott Albin is glad Tony doesn’t sing with this band. “[S]o we no longer have to endure his falsetto voice and ridiculous lyrics,” writes Albin. (True confession: I never liked Tony’s singing either.)
The reviewer goes on to say, “…Tony Williams is still one of the supreme jazz drummers. Few play with such an elevated combination of quickness and precision. His cymbal-work is still outstanding.” Yes, indeed.
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