A Drum Lesson from Buddy
The year is 1982 or ’83. I’m standing in the student union
at Buffalo State College where I’m a student of chemistry and a jobbing
drummer. I hear some chatter from behind me to the effect of some great
enthusiasm regarding a concert that evening in Ketchum Hall - right on campus.
Only slightly curious, I turned around to see what all the hubbub was about
and find to my alarm and flagrant delight, that Buddy Rich is playing! In
Ketchum Hall! At my school! TONIGHT!!!
So I made a sprint (that would have made any track star envious,) over
to the hall and through a series of honest mistakes in direction, wound
up back stage. All though I’d had a few classes in Ketchum Hall, I
didn’t know it had a “stage/concert hall.” For a millisecond
I thought “this is terrible, how could they put Buddy in a place like
this, it’s gonna sound terrible.” But none-the-less, there I
was standing stage left, Buddy’s drums were maybe 15 feet from me.
I couldn’t help it, I knew better, but the adrenaline rush in conjunction
with impetuous youth overcame my good sense and I walked over to Buddy’s
drums. I’m in seventh heaven of course, in a world of surrealistic,
transcendental bliss, when out of nowhere I hear, “Hey kid, what the
f&%$ are you doing on my stage?!” I wake up and look up and who’s
coming at me from across the stage, but a very irate drumming God, the master
himself – hell bent for election. “Kid,” he yelled, but
before he could finish, I shoved my adams’ apple back up to where
it belonged and croaked out “I’m sorry Mr. Rich, I’m a
student here and I just found out a few minutes ago that you were playing
tonight, I’m sorry My. Rich, I didn’t mean to end up back here……….” “Kid,
I don’t like anybody %^$#@#$ around with my equipment.” Trying
to not soil myself I replied, “I know sir, I don’t like it when
somebody screws around with my drums either, I wasn’t going to touch
them, I just wanted to get the view from the captain’s chair, I’m
sorry………….”
At that moment his countenance changed, he warmed up from entirely pissed off to slightly annoyed, and inquired "You play?" I looked him dead in his eyes, and answered "3 to 4 hours a day, every day!" "Do you have a band," a little softer timber in his voice now, "Yes, we play at a few local clubs.." "What kind of music?" queried Buddy. "We're a lounge act, we play everything from Duke and Dorsey to the Beatles and The Doors." Seemingly somewhat amused, Buddy then asked "Is there something I can do for you?" I said, "Can I ask you a question or two", "Sure!" He said very enthusiastically. "Well one of the things I'm having trouble understanding is time" I said rather sheepishly. "What about it?" I told him I didn't understand the concepts of playing "on top of, right on, or behind the beat," that to me, the beat was the beat. Buddy said "Damn kid, I thought you were going to ask me how to play fast - but that was a good question!" (My heart sang and I was ready to burst, Buddy complimented me!" He sat down on his throne and did this warm up -left hand/base drum thing -, that has had me talking to myself for the better part of 2 decades now, and proceeded to play this funky yet simple rock rhythm, all the while looking at me and explaining, "think of a brick making oven, as the bricks come out it's your job to stamp your initials on the bricks as they come off the conveyor, you can hit the brick at the beginning, middle, or the end of it....the brick IS the beat." While not ever changing the tempo, playing the groove and talking to me, Buddy demonstrated how to push and tug the time around. In a matter of a few seconds Buddy explained and demonstrated something to me and made it so clear that I couldn't help but understand. "I gotta get going," he said with a wry smile on his face, "anything else?" he asked. "Well, I said, how do you feel about practicing on pillows?" With a gentle smile but deadly serious eyes Buddy replied, "It will build technique, but how many bands do you know of are looking for good pillow players?" Message sent and received. "I gotta go, good luck and don't touch anything kid." I answered "I sure won't, but I'm gonna sit right at that table until after the show (which was a good 4 hours from starting!) "I'll see you tonight, get something to eat!" Buddy quipped, and with that he shuffled off - stage right, and was gone.
I thought to myself "you ass, you didn't even say thank you." Buddy probably thinks I'm a jerk, and he's right!
I did as I said I would, I didn't touch anything and sat at the table and moped around until start time, 8:00 P.M. The band came on stage and got set, then Buddy came out, the place went nuts! The band opened with a burning rendition of "Time Check" as I recall. It was a lousy venue, the acoustics were in fact, terrible. But it didn't matter, THAT BAND COOKED, and Buddy played like he had lightening bolts shooting out his finger tips! Later in the show, there was a pause in the action, Buddy, from behind the throne commented about being a little sore as he was throwing the ball around earlier that day. He looked at his surroundings with a rather silly, quizzical look on his face and simply said "Um, nice!" Sarcasm so thick you could chew it! Then; baduuuuuuuum, duum! The beginning of the "Westside Story Medley" reverberated around the room, the campus, hell, the whole city of Buffalo had to know what was coming! I started to shake, and truth to tell, I started to tear up, trying to choke the emotions back, I looked up and locked eyes with the master! His big smile with lots of teeth was shot right at me! Can this be? Is Buddy acknowledging my presence? Now? At the beginning of West Side? I didn't believe it, so having to know for sure, I got up from my table and circled about 10 feet to my right, up as close to the elevated stage as I could, hoping to get a better view of Buddy and see if it was me he was cheesing for. Yep, he followed my every step, and when I got situated, he stared at me, flashed his eyebrows as if to say, "I know you're here, now pay attention school is in session." The tears were flowing, I couldn't stop it, no matter how hard I tried. In the middle of the song, there was a pause of about 4 beats, I would say, then Buddy started with a little press roll, flammed to a complete stop, and did something so unexpected that it just about killed me. He did a quick little double stroke roll, then slammed into the base drum and the snare with his right hand, while simultaneously pointing his left drumstick right at me, as if to say "this one's for you, kid" - then he rocked heaven and earth with a solo that had the whole place in a frenzy and me sobbing like a little school girl, who just lost her favorite doll!
In all honesty, I don't remember much of the concert after that; I was dumbfounded, humbled, and elated beyond the words.
Buddy died just a few short years later. People say they remember where they were and what they were doing when JFK or Martin Luther King was shot. Or when Elvis died. I remember in vivid, lurid detail where I was and what I was doing when I heard that heaven had a new drummer! God bless Buddy, his music and his legacy.
~ Matt S.
Niagara Falls, NY
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