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19 of 19 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
The beat goes on, March 5, 2001
There will always be drummers, but at times in the past decade they looked like an endangered species. We were once told that the microchip would replace the rock/pop drummer, as it lay down the grooves better, cheaper, faster.That near catastrophe for drummers doesn't seem to have had much effect. If anything it's marked time for the end of the beginning because in 2001 there appear to be more great young drummers than ever. The haircuts have changed and there are no more household names. The Krupas, Blakeys, Bellsons have been replaced with Weckls, Wackermans, and Colaiutas. Quite familiar to a Chick Corea or Frank Zappa fan, but about as likely to appear on the current equivalent of the Johnny Carson show as the manager of your local Burger King. Contemporary music courses at colleges all over the world are producing even more young drummers who can play anything. They might seem more clinical and spoon-fed than their forefathers, but at least they are drummers, not microchips. So where does Buddy Rich come in? At the beginning of course. John Minahan illustrates this well in his book, The Torment of Buddy Rich. Buddy Rich really was playing on stage at the age of 18 months, a precocious child prodigy tapping out The Stars and Stripes Forever (`not actually forever, but for about four minutes', Buddy would quip on the BBC's Parkinson show over 50 years later). The drum kit as we know it was in its infancy then too. It consisted mostly of snare drum and a great big bass drum, maybe with some percussion shells and a cymbal precariously mounted atop. It's a miracle that Buddy Rich survived a childhood stardom that took him all over the US and to Australia, then left him in retirement at the age of 14, just in time for the depressive 1930s. But to then go on and become a household name in the 1940s and retain that position right through almost to the next millennium, for playing an instrument that could have gone the way of the Teasmade and Peter Powell Stunt Kite is a remarkable feat that requires closer scrutiny. In the disjointed chapters of this book the committed fan can be transported from 1970s tours to 1930s apartments, from Buddy blowing his top over a cab driver with no loose change to Buddy proudly looking on as his daughter sings. The opening pages instantly give an insight into what it was like spending time in the overpowering presence if Buddy Rich. For any fan it's a must-read. The author's abundant resource of accurately transcribed conversations makes you believe you are really there in the midst of the action. For anyone that's not particularly a fan, and that's probably the majority, this book is not constructed, edited, or written well enough to do justice to this remarkable life. It nearly is, and any Buddy Rich fan who doesn't read it will be the poorer for missing out. There are so many great Buddy Rich stories out there, like the one about the time his new Jaguar was totally stripped of its wheels, radio, trim, everything, while he was doing a Harlem gig. Buddy came out to check it in the interval and was heart broken. The 6'6 stage manager, infamous in Harlem, spread the word that it was Buddy Rich's car that had been turned over, and by the time the gig was finished it had been completely reassembled - even freshly polished. I know. If you believe that story, you'll believe anything. Urban myths aside, Buddy's playing needs to be looked at in perspective. It was unbelievable to be at a concert (I saw him loads of times in the UK from 1976 and on). Watching Fred Astaire dance, or Frank Sinatra sing must have been similar - you know it's not just a good band/singer/show you are watching, it's the only show in town, the real thing, anything else is an also-ran. Buddy Rich provided that feeling every time. When you were at a concert you could not conceive of there being any other drummers elsewhere in the world. His remarkable life warrants an authoritative treatment that shows everyone what he was like and what he achieved. However, it's not surprising he hasn't been embraced as a potential subject by the literary world. I heard him in the early 1980s on Desert Island Disks, a BBC radio programme, when genteel Roy Plumley was the host. After picking seven recordings to take on the imaginary island the guest is asked to pick a book, in addition to the Bible and Shakespeare. Buddy came out with: `What's a book? I've never read a book in my life' and then went on to request `A Story of O', which is somewhat saucy, I believe. In the real world there are many great drummers and the music world survives without Buddy Rich. That doesn't detract from his phenomenal talent, unbelievable career, and great showmanship. I feel that John Minahan's material has so much potential, but he was let down, maybe by the publisher, I don't know. There is so much of interest for the fan though, real personal information not just dumb stories like the ones I quoted above, that it's worth putting up with the lack of editing. One day there'll be a great Buddy Rich book that will get a big push from a major publisher and be in Christmas stockings all over the world. It might even pave the way for the screenplay to Buddy Rich - the Movie. One final bizarre Buddy Rich story (there are so many): There has actually been a Buddy Rich movie on the cards for some years. Who is at the helm of this potential movie? Who owns the rights? Bob Dylan of course.
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