A Stone Like a Rock

Charlie Watts, the Rolling Stones' drummer, always stood out among his bandmates by blending in the background.  Watts, who died last week at the age of 80, was not the sort of rock and roll musician to partake in hedonism or play the role of a bad boy. He was a professional who showed up for sessions and concerts and provided the precise, steady backbeat propelling the Stones' greatest records . . . as well as records they did that were not so great.  Even slight Stones song such as "Emotional Rescue" or "You Got Me Rocking" crackle with bit because of Watts reliable backing.

A quiet and reserved Everyman in appearance, Watts was the same way on record.  He didn't aim for heroic solos like Carl Palmer, nor did he try to overwhelm everyone else in his ban the way Keith Moon did in the Who (though Moon's style of playing made him an indispensable legend in his own right).  He kept time and kept everyone on time doing it.  He provided the shotgun beat for Mick Jagger to dance over while singing to the guitar riffs provided by Keith Richards and a succession of additional guitarists - Brian Jones to Mick Taylor to Ron Wood - supported by that same drumming precision, with a seductive bass style from Bill Wyman for good measure..  Watts would later adapt his beat to the bass stylings of Darryl Jones, who replaced Wyman in a sideman capacity, showing just how, in the group's rhythm section, he carried more than his fair share of the backing - but never failed to deliver.

Now that Watts has died, the Rolling Stones seem less likely to continue for much longer, if at all.  What's really depressing is that when the Stones are gone, rock and roll itself - which has had a rough time in the past twenty years providing new blood while hip-hop continues to flourish more than rock ever seemed to - may follow them into history,  Nothing lasts forever - expect the Stones' records, of course.  And Charlie Watts is a big reason for that. RIP.  

Ringo At Eighty

And now, to a real musician . . .

Ringo Starr, the older of the two surviving Beatles, is eighty years old today, and he's still active.  One would have thought he would be retired by now, since he hasn't had a hit single since the early eighties and because he's never been as consistent in his songwriting as the other Beatles.  But he sings better than most people give him credit for, and more importantly, he's the consummate entertainer, always delivering songs with a smile in his voice and a twinkle in his eye.  His own acknowledgment of his ordinariness - "What's a skinny little scruff like me doing in a band like this?", he famously asked when in the Beatles - is what made him a legend.  It's his ability to not take himself to seriously that gave him his longevity.

In previous years, Ringo has celebrated his birthday the same way.  Wherever happens to be, he counts down to twelve o'clock noon and, with those in his company, calls out "Peace and Love," a mantra mantle he inherited from John Lennon.  This time, though, ihanks to COVID-19, he will be having a virtual concert at 8 PM Eastern Tie and be joined by Paul McCartney, along with a little help form his other friends - Joe Walsh, Ben Harper, Sheryl Crow, Gary Clark Jr and Sheila E - t oraise money for four causes (Black Lives Matter, The David Lynch Foundation, MusiCares and WaterAid). While Ringo probably won't record another album again (thigh he has hinted at an extended player), he may yet still perform with his All-Starr Band (whose lineup consists of whoever happens to be in the room, or these days, on Zoom at the time) when the pandemic is over, which means we could still see him on stage in 2021.  Or 2022.  Let's hope so.  We need him to stick around and stay healthy for as long as he can and keep making us smile.

Rock on, Ringo  Rock on.

God With Drumsticks

Soon after the Canadian power trio Rush released their self-titled debut album in 1974, their drummer, John Rutsey, was forced to leave due to health complications brought about by diabetes.  Guitarist Alex Lifeson and bassist-keyboardist-vocalist Geddy Lee then turned to another drummer, Neil Peart, as Rutsey's replacement.  This would prove to be a pivotal decision, just as the Beatles' decision to replace Pete Best with Ringo Starr or Family's decision to replace Harry Ovenall (their original drummer) with Rob Townsend would be.

Neil Peart, who died of brain cancer last week at age 67, would transform Rush as much as Ringo Starr or Rob Townsend transformed their respective bands . . . and then some.  His magnificent drumming was a cornerstone of Rush's aggressive, complex sound, with heavy beats that kept his bandmates Lee and Lifeson on course and with major assaults that would prove as menacing as Lifeson's guitar solos or Lee's banshee wailing.  But it was also his lyricism that would set Rush apart from the many metal acts and power trios that aspired to follow the path blazed by Cream and by Led Zeppelin.  Peart was a libertarian who distrusted large organizations, which fueled a common theme of Rush's music - songs about the individual against the system.  The independence Peart sought as a musician was reflected in his lyrics to "Fly By Night," about preparing to leave and chart one's own course.  Themes of non-conformity and keeping one's integrity prevailed in the philosophical lyrics about art and commerce in "The Spirit of Radio," the adventure of "Tom Sawyer," and the negative utopia of "Red Barchetta."  Peart also managed to somehow offer a critical treatise on suburbia that one might encounter in a Lewis Mumford book in a single song with "Subdivisions."  Peart's ruminations on conformity and individuality provided more food for thought than most heavy-rock songs usually do.

Peart and his band were not without their critics, many of them dismissing Peart's drumming as just a lot of noise and his lyrics as too much in the style of Ayn Rand to fit into the rock ethos of collective action and interdependent brotherhood.  As a Canadian, though, Peart was able to sound libertarian without sounding churlish (an American rocker might not have been able to pull that off), and his playing was far more developed and precise than that of most heavy-rock drummers.  He, like Lee and Lifeson (who wrote Rush's music), was determined to improve and perfect his chops with each album as well as explore new ideas and expand their music to include elements of folk, reggae, blues, and progressive styles.  That persistence to not just be the best power trio in rock but also the most literary and intellectual power trio in rock made Rush a mainstay in the rock scene and made Peart - often thought of as God in the same way Eric Clapton had been thought of when he was with John Mayall - a legend.

Rush toured for the last time in 2015, with Peart retiring thereafter due to tendinitis; his brain cancer was detected in 2017 and was kept secret until his death.  He leaves behind a wealth of classic performances and lyrics that few if any rockers could ever hope to match.  RIP. :-(

The Devil With Drumsticks

Ginger Baker, who just died at the age of eighty, was called "the devil with drumsticks" by rock journalist Lillian Roxon, and the description fit him well.  While previous rock drummers such as Ringo Starr and Charlie Watts were merely part of the show from their respective bands, Baker, no matter what band he was in, was the show, even more than the Who's Keith Moon. 

Baker first cut his teeth in the mid-sixties in the Graham Bond Organisation, a jazz-blues outfit that also included future Cream bassist Jack Bruce (Bond, the keyboard-playing lead singer, and Dick Heckstall-Smith on saxophone rounded out the group), where he brought a jazz sensibility and a knack for jazz-like improvisation to his playing. He brought that unique style to Cream and Blind Faith, with his heavy fills and masterful timekeeping and his spellbinding, crashing cymbals, all anchored by a double-bass drum kit.  

Baker's greatest strengths were his bands' weaknesses, though, and the early dissolutions of those bands (Blind Faith continued briefly without Eric Clapton under a new name, Air Force) showed just what a strong-willed musician he was.  He was a drummer but also a leader, and he worked in a musical form where drummers are expected to follow.  Baker wouldn't follow anyone, and even though the drummer remains the follower in the group, Baker was an inspiration to future rock drummers who realize that they matter more than their frontmen realize.  RIP.