Super Mayfield

I'm sitting in a bar with the unmistakable – and most welcome – opening bars of Curtis Mayfield's 'Superfly' cutting through the Muzakal mix.

As this year draws to a close in which we are remembering so many musical greats who have been taken from us, maybe we should also find time to recall Mayfield, a genius who died in 1999 at the age of 57, nine years after being almost totally paralysed when lighting equipment fell on him.

He was a beautiful singer, an innovative songwriter and a great musician. And his legacy runs through so much of what followed, including the work of many of those famous names who died in 2016.

If you haven't already... listen to him.

Wham!

Foolish of me to think that Rick Parfitt was the last rock star to be taken in 2016... The death of George Michael comes as a much greater shock – and constitutes the loss of a great musical talent, who managed to go from boy-band whimsy to seriously good singer/songwriter.

If you're a well-known musician, take care between now and New Year... We keep thinking it's all over... But maybe it isn't...

Down, Down...

Just when you thought 2016 couldn't take away another rock star... Rick Parfitt of Status Quo is gone.

The Quo were formidably good at what they did... but it wasn't really for me, and I never saw them live.

But many musicians rated and respected them – including, maybe surprisingly, John Lydon, who perhaps saw something punkish in the Quo's refusal to ever do anything but stick to basics and go for the lowest common denominator.

This year of the wins of Brexit and Trump and the losses of Bowie, Cohen and Prince (and many more) has been bloody awful. I dare to think that 2017 has to be better – rather than a case of down, down deeper and down.

Indebted To Datta

One of the lessons of Billy Ward's "Inside Out", mentioned in a recent post, is for drummers to be open to inspiration from all sources – and all kinds of players, not just drummers.

Unlooked-for inspiration came to me this week from sarod-player Soumik Datta whom I was fortunate enough to see in concert at London's Cadogan Hall as part of a stirring ensemble paying tribute to the words and music of Rabindranath Tagore.

Datta is one of those musicians who is utterly at one with his instrument, possessed of a facility that enables him to express himself totally, and which seems to result in great joy – for him and for those who hear him.

Prior to the Tagore concert, we were treated to a preview of an episode from a future TV series Tuning 2 You in which Datta (filmed by his brother Souvid) travels across India to meet and play with the sub-continent's "lost musicians" – the traditional local players who will never be famous but who are the lifeblood of their communities.

The film itself also provided endless musical inspiration – plus the clear message that music is at its best when it is played by those who are devoted to it and for whom there is no life without it.

As Greg Lake, who died recently, put it: "The greatest music is made for love, not money."

A Matter Of Death And Death

I only ever had one conversation with AA Gill – the recently deceased Sunday Times journalist – and, considering his ascerbic, and sometimes downright nasty, style of writing, he seemed remarkably pleasant and polite.

But there's no getting away from the fact that this was someone who admitted he shot a baboon to find out what it felt like to kill someone. And then wrote about it. Made it into another deliberately provocative article.

Some deaths you can mourn. Some you can't.

Drumming Without Your Kit

I've been away... I'm back. And I haven't been drumming for a while, following the successful release and launch of the Unison Bends' album 'Liquor And Iron' at the end of November. As forecast, it was a night to remember, particularly as the amazing Alex Patterson graced the album launch with her vocals.

So no drumming for a week or two, apart from in my head. Which leads on perfectly to 'Inside Out', the brilliantly challenging book by drummer Billy Ward that does exactly what it says: explores the mental aspects of drumming.

Apart from making the oft-neglected point that drummers are musicians and have brains, Ward also looks with great honesty at the fact we are also human and beset with all sorts of failings.

There are almost no drum exercises in this book – it's all about you, your musicianship, your strengths and weaknesses, and how you get the best out of yourself in any situation.

When I get back to the practice studio, I know I'm going to be a better drummer – just from reading this collection of perceptive essays.