Solid Gone

A witty rock'n'roll friend from Tucson, Arizona, has written to me suggesting that I might submit my CV in connection with a vacancy that has arisen in the Rolling Stones. "You have that jazz background. And you’re in their age group," he observes.

In fact, I'm not quite that old... yet. And I can't say that the post appeals – even if it were on offer.

No one can really fill Charlie Watts's drumming shoes. Not because he was the "ultimate" or the "greatest" drummer, as the media and various tribute-givers would have us believe – but because he was the perfect man for the job.

Perfect, because he was happy to have a back seat and just take care of the business that was required.

That's not to denigrate his talents. But those saying what a brilliant drummer he was are really saying that he knew his place – i.e. keeping time and nothing too fancy.

He wasn't Ginger Baker or Keith Moon or Buddy Rich or Gene Krupa – genius drummers who actually defined and directed the bands that they played in. That's why the Stones will roll on and still sound pretty much the same.

Charlie Watts was a solid drummer who knew what he was there to do and did it. He also seems to have been a truly decent bloke. And in the world of rock'n'roll that counts for a lot.

The Present Day Drummer Refuses To Die

Well, he’s still alive... just.

And at 73, Ginger Baker is still playing with almost cast-iron authority.

Seeing him in concert this week left me reflecting on the first time I saw him play – 46 years ago – and this, perhaps the last time I will see him play.

“You just want to see me die on stage,” said Ginger, coming back on for the encore. “And I’m not joking...”

He’d just finished a resounding Aiko Biaye that had just as much energy as when he played it live with his big band, Airforce, in the 1970s... even though his troops are now down to just three heavyweight musicians: Alec Dankworth on bass, Pee Wee Ellis on sax and Abass Dodoo on percussion.

I think Ginger made the odd mis-hit and certainly dropped a few sticks, but for a man who seemed to have considerable difficulty walking on and off stage, and for whom talking seemed to be a breath-draining ordeal, he was on remarkable form, dictating the play with assuredness, invention and an “I’m in charge” arrogance that you wouldn’t want to argue with.

For once, he seems to be doing what he wants, and with the musicians he wants to do it with. There was even a smile occasionally breaking through that taut grimace beneath the shades.

How much longer will this true legend of drumming be with us? I have learned over the past 40 years that there are other drummers who are as great as Ginger – and possibly more versatile. But you could have said the same about Gene Krupa... 

These real drumming legends are not technicians... they are musicians and magicians... and they are inspirational, heroic and, of course, also flawed and mortal.

There won’t be another Krupa. There won’t be another Baker...