< PreviousModern Drummer September 2021 8 Custard Pie Brings the Funk By Michael Molenda Style Council P icturesque Alsace borders France, Germany, and Switzerland. The region may present a storybook-like setting of timber-framed architecture, castles, and even the mythical birthplace of the Easter bunny. In reality, it is a fairy-tale land formed from turbulence. Originally settled by Celts, the territory was invaded by Romans, and controlled at various times by France and Germany during five centuries of warfare (including WWI and WWII). Today, Alsace is facing yet another invader—funk. Formed in 2002, the ten-member Custard Pie Power Funk Orchestra has been conquering the region’s dance floors with get-up-and-boogie salvos influenced by groovemeisters such as James Brown, Tower of Power, Funkadelic, and the Meters. This year, the collective released a four-song EP entitled Trade Your Soul [Bandcamp] that combines classic ‘70s funk elements with urban, rap, and rock sounds from the 1980s and right up to today. Drummer Michel Burcklen and percussionist Emiliano Benevides lay down the explosive grooves for the lineup, which also includes guitar, bass, keyboards, saxophone, trumpet, and trombone. The songs on Trade Your Soul are definitely funky in the extreme, but the production is a bit more multi-textured, dense, and angular than what you might have heard blasting from a Bronx disco in the mid ‘70s. Perhaps Alsace’s belligerent past inspired Custard Pie Power Funk Orchestra to construct grooves mighty enough to stop a Roman phalanx in its tracks—or to drop its shields and spears and boogie down in peace. What inspired the sound of Custard Pie? Michel Burcklen (drums) : We take the recipe of an old funky band with legendary grooves—James Brown, the Meters, etc.—and then we apply a modern sound. Emiliano Benevides (percussion) : When I heard the band for the first time, I saw a blend of old rock with a great funk groove. Perhaps a bit of Frank Zappa and Led Zeppelin meeting with James Brown and Tower of Power. That stood out for me. How do you two work together to create the band’s grooves? Benevides: There is a great synergy between us and with the rest of the band. We hear an idea first—it might be a bass line or a guitar riff—and we start to develop the main rhythm from that initial idea. Once all of the vocals and horns are set up, I’ll start to bring some color to the music by approaching my percussion parts from different angles. Sometimes, I search for a heavy sound in a chorus September 2021 Modern Drummer 9 or bridge—an almost punk element with some continuous heavy- metal sounds. Other times, I use soft soundscapes and percussion effects. Burcklen : We really try to reduce our respective parts to the most essential elements that drive the groove. We also strive to avoid any redundancies between the percussion and the drum parts. Emiliano, what is your approach to adding textures to Michel’s basic drum groove? Benevides: When I am in a museum looking at a Kandinsky or Picasso painting, I get ideas that I can bring into a musical context with percussion, because I want to add different colors to the music and help build a story. Perhaps that means adding a simple or basic rhythm, or maybe it’s more about introducing different sounds. I have to work around the other players, as well. I like conversations or dialogs between instruments. For example, our song “Good Sense” starts with me playing a conga rhythm that complements Michel’s accents on the drum set. But when the bass comes in, I add a caxixi—a Brazilian shaker—right at the end of each line. I also play a glass bottle in some parts. Michel, what are the specific elements of a fearsome funk groove? Burcklen : A strong and precise bass drum and snare pattern. It doesn’t need to be anything complicated, because the more important parts are your hi-hat accents and some well-placed ghost notes on the snare. Is there any need to modernize funk grooves for today’s audiences? Burcklen : No. There is no need to modernize the old funky grooves! Most of them are already perfect. All you have to do is see how people were dancing to those grooves on Soul Train in the 1970s. I think it’s a matter of changing the sounds to fit today’s audience expectations—not the grooves themselves. How do you add your own personality into vintage funk grooves? Burcklen : I’m very fond of jazz, so I often add some jazz patterns to my funk grooves. Who are some of your musical influences? Benevides : My first influences were my cousins, because I started to play with them in my pre-adolescence years. Then, I learned about Brazilian artists such as Papete, Naná Vasconcelos, Dom Um Romão, Paulinho da Costa, and Airto Moreira. Later, I discovered Manolo Badrena, Hossam Ramzy, and Trilok Gurtu. Lately, I have been listening to acid funk and jazz bands such as The Brand New Heavies, Jestofunk, Max Sedgley, and Banda Black Rio. I like the groove and all the percussion concepts they bring. In addition, I am from Brazil, and Brazil is a huge melting pot of indigenous, African, European, Asian, and Middle Eastern cultures and rhythms. This mix is directly in my blood, and I am sure it influences how I play with Custard Pie. Burcklen: My influences are very diverse, and they run from jazz to funk. There are so many, but the main drummers who have influenced my playing are Tony Williams, Jeff Porcaro, Chris “Daddy” Dave, Arnaud Renaville, Harvey Mason, Jamal Thomas, Joey Baron, Manu Katché, Brian Blade, and Justin Tyson. Are there advantages or disadvantages to performing a so-called American musical style with European musicians? Benevides: I think those walls are no longer a problem. There have been so many cultural exchanges over the years, and now, of course, there’s the facility of being able to expose yourself to so much art from all around the world in mere seconds. These components are a huge advantage to modern-day music making. Burcklen : Europe has always been very receptive to American music styles—sometimes recognizing them much quicker than U.S. audiences. For example, American be-bop and free-jazz artists were performing in large, renowned concert halls when they toured Europe, while, at the same time, they were mostly playing in small, underground places in America. That said, we are not living in America. We can’t carry the heritage of the American way when we interpret American styles Just curious—why the decision to sing in English when the band is based in France? Burcklen : We live and perform in the so-called tri-country area of Switzerland, France, and Germany. So, in order be understood by everyone, you had better sing in English. F unky S tuFF Emiliano Benevides Congas: Latin Percussion Carlos “Patato” Valdez Signature, New- Groove Compact Fiberglass, Bauer Percussion Classic. Bongos: Latin Percussion Fiberglass. Miscellaneous: Cowbells, granite blocks, agogôs, shakers, tam- bourines, sound effects by Latin Percussion, Meinl, Tycoon, and homemade. Hardware: Latin Percussion Gajate Bracket, Bauer Percussion pedal. Drumsticks/Gong Sticks: Pro Mark, Wincent, Innovative Percussion. Cymbals: Paiste 16” 201 Bronze Crash, Paiste 16” Alpha Thin Crash, Paiste 11” Signature Traditionals Thin Splash. Michel Burcklen Drums: DW Collector Series, 20’’ kick, 10’’ and 12’’ rack toms, 14’’ floor tom. Snare: Gaus custom, 7.5x14 (handmade in Switzerland). Pedal: Vintage Pearl. Cymbals: Zildjian 20” K Constantinople Renaissance Ride, Zildjian 14” A Custom EFX Crash, Sabian 18” HHX Evolution O-Zone Crash, Sabian 12’’ AAX O-Zone Splash, Zildjian 13” K Dark Custom Hi-hats. Sticks: Vic Firth SD4 Custom Combo maple. Miscellaneous: Gibraltar Stealth GSDS Docking Station.Modern Drummer September 2021 10 Art Rock Hugh Syme’s Four Decades of Rush Dreamscapes By Michael Molenda R ockers, art directors, and artists have made great teams since the glory days of album art—even right up to the slightly less awesomeness of tiny, non-tactile images on Spotify and other streaming services. From Reid Miles’ iconic Blue Note album covers to Peter Blake’s Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band masterwork, to Roger Dean’s artistry for Yes, Storm Thorgerson’s for Pink Floyd, Peter Saville’s for Factory Records, and so many others, the synergy of visual art and music has forged compelling, seductive, and tremendously marketable iconography for both bands and fans. But few creative collaborations can match the continuous 40-year rapport between artist Hugh Syme and Rush. Recently, that artistic relationship was documented in a gorgeous coffee table book, Art of Rush: Serving a Life Sentence [IDW Publishing]. The tome not only includes original illustrations, paintings, and photographs, it reveals the working relationship of the band and artist—particularly the input of drummer/lyricist Neil Peart (who also wrote the book’s foreword before he passed away on January 7, 2020)—for each album Syme has designed since 1975. Other goodies in the edition include interviews with Syme and the band, as well as commentary from Rush insiders and various musicians, actors, and celebrities who loved the group and its art. Of course, the Rush partnership was not an exclusive arrangement, and Syme also created mesmerizing graphics for Def Leppard, Aerosmith, Peter Frampton, Iron Maiden, Dream Theater, Alice Cooper, Queensrÿche, Supertramp, Whitesnake, Warrant, and even a singer/ songwriter I once met at Indiana’s Stone Age Institute, Krista Detor. In addition, Syme is a drummer himself, as well as a multi-instrumentalist who played with the Ian Thomas Band from 1973-1980, occasionally laid down tracks during Rush sessions, and contributed piano, synth, nylon-string guitar, and choir and string arrangements for Jim McCarty’s 2018 album, Walking in the Wild Land. “Jim is the drummer and songwriter for the Yardbirds, and Walking in the Wild Land was co-produced by Rush’s producer, Terry Brown, who asked me to play on the album,” says Syme. “This was quite special for me, as I lived in the U.K. in 1965, and I played my prized blue-pearl Premier drum set in local pubs at the tender age of 13, covering several songs by the Yardbirds.” Syme continues to feed his “fascination with timekeepers” (as he calls it), as well as interview other musicians as co-host of the popular Music Buzzz Podcast with longtime John Mellencamp drummer Dane Clark. Available at musicbuzzzpodcast.com and the usual podcast joints, Syme has spoken to drummers such as Don Brewer, Doug Clifford, Bill Gibson, Jerry Shirley, Phil Ehart, and Jerry Marotta. Other episodes include talks with bassist Rudy Sarzo, and guitarists Nils Lofgren, Steve Hackett, and Bruce Kulick, among other instrumentalists and industry pros. First off, congratulations on the release of Art of Rush: Serving a Life Sentence . It’s quite a fun, informative, and visually stunning artifact on the collaborative process between you and the band. The first edition, I’m delighted to say, has sold out. This new edition—which is not actually a “second edition”—has a 24- page addendum that features all the new artwork I have had the ongoing pleasure to produce for each of the 40th anniversary box sets released on cue since the band’s retirement. The gift that keeps on giving! With each of these box sets we have been creating—since the 2112 40th anniversary release in 2016—I have been able to delve back into Neil’s lyrics and imagery with fresh eyes and with a skill set from today. What initially brought you into the Rush camp? I was playing keyboards, singing, and co-arranging with the Ian Thomas Band, which happened to be on the same label, and managed by the same manager as Rush, Max Webster, Larry Gowan, and others. It was certainly a happy accident. But I do recall, when asked if I would like to do the cover for Rush’s Caress Of Steel, thinking, “Well, they aren’t Genesis or Supertramp, but let’s see what happens.” Gratefully, and to my delight, I agreed, and this was to be the beginning of a 45-year alliance with my oldest and dearest client—all friends to this day. How critical is an album cover to the overall appreciation, excitement, and popular acceptance of a band’s music? I have found that just as music is memory for all of us—recalling a place, a time, an event—so is the cover artwork associated with the music. This is often true whether we’re talking about Rush’s projects, or September 2021 Modern Drummer 11 any soundtrack from our own experiences. What is the typical first step in conceptualizing the artwork for a Rush album? My preferred point of departure is responding to a good title—which is something Rush excelled at continually providing to me. The band was unique in that our wordsmith, Neil, never failed to inspire me with his evocative titles. Once he was ready to share those wonderful working titles, concepts usually came quickly and readily. Beyond the title itself, Neil and I would sometimes review the lyrics, or discuss the arc of the albums’ themes together. In the early days, it wasn’t always Neil and I—along with a bottle of rare Armagnac—that would offer up visual directions. On one occasion, Geddy and I sat in his dining room and discussed my concepts for A Farewell to Kings. Increasingly, Neil would pick up the mantle as we embarked on our four decades of visual collaboration. Unless I visited the studio during their recording sessions—which, gratefully, led to my being asked to play piano and keys on a few of their albums—I often didn’t hear any music until we all did. Those pre-digital times were something to experience, and to treasure. Even when provided with a great title, do the visual ideas always come easily, or does it take a while for a concept to develop? It varies. Like songwriting, some of those great pieces flow through you, seemingly without effort, between breakfast and lunch. Some are herniated over for longer periods of time. Often, imagery for titles or project expectations require more time to evolve. For instance, Moving Pictures was almost instantaneous, as was Counterparts—although it took some persuasion for the band to surrender themselves to the cheeky minimalism of a nut and bolt. Signals was oddly intimidating. That one word was powerful, singular, and multifaceted. After cul-de-sacs and clichés subsided, I eventually stumbled over the glib device of the Toronto-red fire hydrant and Dalmatian “fire dog”. I confess to having been a huge fan of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks at the time, so the unsettling underbelly of a seemingly benign suburbia suggested a compelling motif. Do you sometimes “see” colors in a band’s music that leads you to a particular color palette for a project? Sometimes, a decision to use a particular palette may occur—primary and loud, or muted and subtle—but I don’t think I’ve ever consciously thought of a specific color to convey music. Maybe it happened for the red on Hold Your Fire, or the cerulean-blue sky on Test for Echo. We also can observe an unintentional, though repetitive occurrence where red, black, and white did manage to secure their places as the “colors of Rush.” If an artist or band wants a specific concept for their album cover, can you work with it, even if it’s something you don’t see yourself? Do you offer alternatives if you feel you could devise a better concept? It’s so rare this ever happens. But if there’s a kernel of inspiration in their proposal, I try to accommodate—or I pretend to. But, one hopes, the job of an art director is to direct. Not for the sake of any natural instinct to merely control, but to guide the visual quest to the right place—at least, to a better place. So, yes, I’ve talked a few fragile egos off the ledge. Does being a musician yourself help inform your work, or is your artist’s brain separate from your musician’s approach to creativity? I think that part of the brain is inseparable. The visual and aural responses are visceral and emotional triggers for both the listener and the composer. But I don’t think it hurts that I can bring a musical background and understanding to the process of developing what I always hope will be the right visual for a project. Who are some of your favorite artists? As a young, aspiring, and developing artist, I was inspired and challenged by the draftsmanship of M.C. Escher. Also, the use of light in the Flemish and Dutch masters— especially in Vermeer’s paintings—and similarly so with Dali’s Vermeer-ian use of light. And, of course, Dali’s boundless achievements in the sublimely ridiculous and unbridled realm of surrealism. The loss of Neil Peart was obviously devastating to the Modern Drummer community and music fans everywhere. What was it like to work with him? I was honored to be both Neil’s friend and creative collaborator all those years—something I miss and will forever cherish in my life and career. Apart from his always timeless and awesome titles, he allowed and encouraged this art director to always deviate from the norm—that was his long-held credo, as it happens. It was mine, as well. You’ve designed so many Rush covers and other artwork since 1975’s Caress of Steel. Can you even pick a favorite? Maybe Power Windows. That was one of three paintings I created for the band—all labors of love—and I did like the way the cover conveyed the title. Also, during the ten-week process of producing this painting, I lost my father. So that peculiar and strangely optimistic image of the lone, shirtless boy in his moonlit room, attempting to wield his power over the outside world with his remote has always held a special place for me. It was especially gratifying to me that Neil hung my painting in his home for all those years that followed. I’m sure you’ve answered this a trillion times—so apologies in advance—but what triggered the idea and manifestation of Rush’s Starman logo? Ah, one trillion and one! After hearing Neil’s explanation of the 2112 saga, it became evident that we had a hero who defiantly stood for purity and freedom of expression, and the oppressive and stifling evil federation—whose emblem was the red star. Juxtaposing these two elements was fundamental to conveying that dichotomy, which became an unexpected and enduring icon for the band, and for the balance of our careers. Modern Drummer September 2021 12 Rock Doc Drummers M aybe there’s something in the water. Or the air. Or perhaps it’s simply the streaming services deluging us with content while everyone is looking for anything to take their minds off of the global pandemic. But, wow, a ton of great music documentaries have exploded onto screens large and small the past couple of years. To celebrate, we picked ten tuneful non-fiction films and reached into the Modern Drummer archives to spotlight the drummers driving the songs that made those docs rock. Roc Doc: Get Back, 2021 The Drummer: Ringo Starr Tenure with the Beatles: 1962—1970 “What helped me a lot was that I had three frustrated drummers around in the Beatles,” Starr told MD in the December 1981/January 1982 issue. “John could play, and Paul could play, and George could play, but they only had one sort of groove, whereas I have two or three. John and I used to have, not arguments, but discussions, because we’d be playing all these records, and he’d say, ‘Like that,’ and I’m saying, ‘But John, there are two drummers on there.’ He could never hear when there were two drummers on a record. So, they’d play stuff with two drummers on it, and then the three of them each had their own idea of what the drummer should do, and then I had my idea. So, all I would do was combine my idea, their three ideas, and the ideas of two drummers on a record. They got what they were given, and it worked.” Roc Doc: The Sparks Brothers, 2021 The Drummer: Tammy Glover Tenure with Sparks: 1997—2009 “Ron and Russell Mael have a unique process,” Glover told MD’s Ken Micallef. “As people, they are very quirky and eccentric. Everything is highly demoed, and I come in and play exactly what they want me to play. They have a vision for the music. Everything is very symphonic and operatic, so I have parts that come in and fly out. And the parts have evolved since I began playing with them in 1996. We’ve done straight-ahead pop songs, and more recently they’ve been experimenting with form—with different kinds of sonic possibilities that tell pop songs in a different way. A lot of that is about repetition. To achieve it, they’ll have a specific number of bars in a section that will repeat. For instance, “My Baby’s Taking Me Home” [from 2002’s Lil’ Beethoven] builds and builds, and the refrain becomes something different as it goes on. An outro with Sparks might last 64 bars, and it’s all very specific. Every instrument is part of that batter being made into the mix of that particular song.” Roc Doc: Summer of Soul, 2021 The Drummer: Greg Errico Tenure with Sly and the Family Stone: 1966—1971 “Sly kept the band on its toes,” remembered Errico in a 2015 feature. “We would have an arrangement, but we always had to keep an eye on Sly. He would change things up so that arrangement would go out the window. Everybody knew how everything was supposed to be, but anything could happen. That was one thing that attracted people like Miles Davis to the band. Sly was a great arranger. He knew his music. We only had two horns, but sometimes it would sound like a big section because of the unique way he approached voicing them. It had a sound of its own. For Miles, a jazz player, the way we approached performing had a lot of that spirit.” Roc Doc: Count Me In, 2021 The Drummer: Jess Bowen Tenure with the Summer Set: 2007—Present “A typical question I receive quite often is, ‘Why aren’t there more female drummers?’” Bowen wrote in her August 2011 On the Beat blog for MD. “After hearing this question over and over again, I came to realize that a more salient question is, ‘Why aren’t more female drummers playing at a higher level?’ There are tons of girls drumming out there, but, unfortunately, many of them become discouraged and simply consider drumming a hobby. We are striving against a barrage of criticism, and giving up seems to be the easy way out. I’d be lying to you if I said I didn’t face the same struggles that all female drummers face before establishing themselves. I knew that before I was even given the chance to prove myself on stage, there would be a preconceived notion of me as a drummer. I remember playing one of our first shows in Los Angeles, and the house engineer didn’t let me soundcheck my own drums. He even stated, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll hit them like a girl.’ Since then, I’ve often been told that I hit harder than most male drummers, so I guess I owe him a big ‘thank you’ for fueling my fire.” Roc Doc: McCartney 3,2,1, 2021 The Drummer: Joe English Tenure with Wings: 1975—1977 “I was playing purely what I felt was needed at the moment, and Paul McCartney must have been thinking it was what the songs needed, because I got the job [with Wings],” English related to Scott K. Fish in a rare 1980 interview. “That’s a good way to check out a September 2021 Modern Drummer 13 M O D E R N D R U M M E R M A G A Z I N E • • YEARS Of Excellence 4545 THE WORLD’S #1 DRUMMING RESOURCETHE WORLD’S #1 DRUMMING RESOURCE musician. Put the person under pressure. They wanted to see if this horse could run. And it was a real band situation. Wings wasn’t like, ‘Hey, I’m Paul McCartney. I know more than you.’ If someone had a good suggestion, it was used. It was a real learning experience, and I soaked in as much as possible. When I’m in the studio, getting into production today, some things will come out that I learned back then. I couldn’t even put a dollar value on what that experience was worth.” Roc Doc: The Go-Go’s, 2020 The Drummer: Gina Schock Tenure with Go-Go’s: 1977—Present “One night, we did two shows in Boston, and the guy who co- produced our album was there with a mobile-recording unit parked outside to tape our show,” Schock said in the April 1982 issue of MD. “After the first show, he said, ‘Gina, in certain songs, you speed up a little during the song.’ I knew I was speeding up, but that was because it’s different on stage than it is in the studio. However, for the second show, I decided I would keep it absolutely perfect. It was totally boring. The rest of the band was looking at me like, ‘What are you doing?’ They wanted to break out, but I was holding them back. So, from then on, I’ve played the way I thought it should be. You’ve got to forget about keeping the exact same speed when you’re playing live. It can’t be too extreme, but if it speeds up a little bit—that’s cool. You’ve got to be two different people to play in the studio and play live. It’s two different things.” Roc Doc: The Bee Gees: How Can You Mend a Broken Heart, 2020 The Drummer: Dennis Bryon Tenure with the Bee Gees: 1974—1979 “While we were recording tracks for the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, my mother was taken ill, and I had to fly back to Cardiff,” said Bryon in December 2017. “When I returned, Barry Gibb greeted me with this big hug and smile and said, ‘While you were gone, Dennis, we wrote this new song you’re going to love called “Stayin’ Alive.” We didn’t want to bring in another drummer, so we took your drum performance from “Night Fever,” slowed it down, and made a loop.’ It was Bee Gees’ producer Albhy Galuten who came up with the idea of taking the best two bars of my drum groove from ‘Night Fever.’ Engineer Karl Richardson took that 20-foot piece of tape, which contained the very best two bars, gaffered some empty tape hubs to the top of mic stands, and ran the tape between the 4-track machine and an MCI 24-track deck to create a physical tape loop. They recorded that groove onto two tracks of the 24-track recording machine, and thus the ‘Stayin’ Alive’ drum loop was born. When I went into the control room to listen to it, I was blown away. Barry said, ‘If you want to rerecord the drums or play the whole track with us, you can.’ I said, ‘Man, I don’t want to touch that groove, but I will overdub some hi-hats.’ Barry was thrilled I didn’t want to mess with the track, because he knew what they had.” Roc Doc: Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool, 2019 The Drummer: Jimmy Cobb Tenure with Miles Davis Group: 1958—1962 “Miles Davis never verbalized what he wanted to hear on any of those albums we did together,” Cobb told MD in November 2017. “Occasionally, Miles wanted two and four on the rim—maybe during a piano solo. He never talked about beat placement or being behind the beat. I played above the beat most of the time, anyway [laughs]. Now, the bass player in that band, Paul Chambers, could play with anybody. If I played faster, he would play so it worked okay. If I played slower, too. He could adjust to anything—a really great bass player. But, back then, everyone used to accuse the drummers of playing ahead of the beat. The time going bad was only the drummer’s fault. But that was not going to be me.” Roc Doc: Quincy, 2018 The Drummer: Leon “Ndugu” Chancler Session Drummer: Thriller, 1982; Bad, 1987 “On Thriller, ‘Billie Jean’ was a lesson in musical discipline for me. It’s a very simple rhythm that anybody can play who can play drums, but the whole discipline of it was just playing that, and being consistent at it. Very simple fill-ins and very few cymbal crashes—just groove for five minutes. It takes discipline, and I didn’t have much leeway with Michael. But that’s only because when Quincy works with Michael, they hear and envision a total picture of what’s going to go down, and it’s very important to stick to the total picture so the overall concept shines for what it is. They don’t often say, ‘Go for what you know.’ They know what they want you to go for, so they tell you what they want, and it’s up to you to be professional enough to give them that.” Roc Doc: Echo in the Canyon , 2018 The Drummer: Hal Blaine Session Drummer: “California Dreamin’,” 1965 “I came along at a time when drummers tuned their drums real high in pitch—real tight,” remembered Blaine in April 1981. “A lot of that was for technique so they could play those high notes and get a lot of bounce to the ounce, as it were. I tuned drums down to a normal midrange. It was just something I always did. I liked the sound of my drums, and I worked for many singers through the years who always liked the sound of my drums. There would be remarks like, ‘Hey, your drums don’t sound all high and tinny. They sound nice.’ When I started in the studios, some of the engineers would say, ‘You’d better tighten those drums up—you’ve got them too loose,’ and the producers would say, ‘Just let him do what he’s doing. We’re going for a different sound here.’ I made a lot of enemies my first six months in the studio. A lot of engineers said, ‘What the hell are you doing? You’re going to break our microphones. You’re playing too loud.’ And I’d say that I was doing what the producer had asked me to do. The engineers wanted to keep my microphones down and turn me up when they needed me, and I told them I don’t play like that. If it calls for quietness in a song, then I play quiet, and when it calls for slamming, I slam. That created a whole new wave, as it were, in the early 1960s.”Modern Drummer September 2021 14 How to Make Friends with Vocalists By Michael Molenda HOME RECORDING I cracked up during one of Rat Scabies’ interview segments in the recently released Count Me In documentary. The Damned drummer related the following wisdom about performing punk rock back in the “OG era” of the mid 1970s: “If they are singing, don’t bash too many drums. When the singing stops, do whatever you like to bring in the next bit.” It was an amusing comment to be sure—don’t we all love lead-singer disease?—but leave it to a punk rocker to simplify a musi- cal-arrangement technique to its core. Like it or not, if you’re playing popular music, the vocal melody and the delivery of the vocalist are pretty much the most important elements of getting a song across to an audience. But while practically every instrumentalist TALKS about “playing for the song,” there’s still a whole slew of guitarists, bassists, horn players, keyboardists, percussionists, and drummers who step all over the vocal as if it was but an annoyance—an impediment to expressing one’s own musical genius. Why is it such a tough go for some artists to let their tracks breathe? I think the operative word—as it is for many activities—is “compro- mise.” At the risk of sounding like a corporate hack, “prioritization” is another word creators should consider. Let’s look at how to deploy these two words to produce recordings that really support the song. Priorities, Priorities Anyone who multitasks has to determine which actions need imme- diate attention, and which actions can be moved down the to-do list without triggering a major, not-awesome event of some kind. Prioritizing all of the responsibilities you are juggling is key to your survival—or, at least, to keeping employed. It’s much the same game when producing pop-music tracks. The ultimate priority for getting a song across should be protecting and ever-so-clearly broadcasting its hook (or hooks). For a vocal song, that number-one priority has to be the vocal. Duh. So, make a huge poster that says “Vocal = #1” in bold, massively large type, and hang it in your recording space and/or rehearsal room. Trust me, you’ll likely forget that primary mission as you develop the track. Remember all those peeps who “say” they play for the song, but don’t? They all start- ed with good intentions. Secondary priorities could be elements such as counterpoint lines in the chorus, background vocals, and a seductive-as-all-hell groove. But none of them get to be number one. That position is taken. Compromise Music making can be an exercise where every creator is “right,” and only the alphas get their way at the end. It can be a maddening and confusing process. If only we had a priority list. [Launch laugh track here.] It might be easier taking ego and subjectivity out of creative equa- tions if we go into those situations with the goal explicitly mapped out. For example, a guitarist comes up with a blazing guitar line that bloviates all over the vocal on the chorus. Producer: “Hey, I think that part is cool, but it really obscures the lead vocal.” Guitarist: “Really? It’s such a great part.” Producer: “Is the guitar line Priority #1?” Guitarist: “Um, well, um, I guess not.” Producer: “We all agreed the vocal is Priority #1. Can you come up with something more supportive?” Ah, if only studio sessions played out so cleanly and calmly in real life. But musical angst aside, the producer here is right, and the gui- tarist should compromise and develop parts that enhance the vocal. There are never just one or two ways to provide musical ornamenta- tion to a track. If an instrumentalist is truly open-minded and creative, he or she should have minimal struggles devising scores of different parts to pump up a song without pummeling the vocal track. Here’s a tip: Priority and compromise should be made honorary members of your band. If every creator does their job, that duo will not have to speak up much, and they certainly won’t steal any beers from the band cooler. Three Ways Drummers Can Be a Force for Good Any instrumentalist can step all over a vocal—it’s not always some cowabunga guitarist with three fuzz pedals and an amp stack higher than a double-decker bus. As drummers obviously have some ferocious tools at their disposal, as well, how can a drummer still be a drummer, but also support the vocal? Go easy on the crash cymbals. Crashes are great for punctuating moments in a song and creating excitement. They can also obliterate everything in their path if used too frequently and aggressively. Styles change, of course, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to take a page from drummers in the 1960s, who typically didn’t play a lot of crashes. Too much high-end can be distracting, and open space allows singers to play with their phrasing and dynamics to break a listener’s heart or get them amped up to rule the day. Don’t take that option away from your vocalist by hammering metal until they have to fight to be heard. Orchestrate fills. Dropping in fabulous fills wherever you feel like it can be exciting during a life show. Perhaps not so much for a recording. Instead, try approaching your drum fills almost like a sym- phonic arrangement, where each fill serves a purpose for driving and/ or supporting the other elements of the work. Rule #1 remains “Do Not Step on the Vocal,” but you can drop some musically appropriate and impactful fills to power into different sections of the song, or even devise tom parts that drive the groove in surprising ways while simultaneously staying out of the vocalist’s frequency range. Choose to address sonic space by leaving things open, or heaping a signature fill right where it makes an epic imprint on the music. Minimalism first. There’s nothing wrong with sticking to a stark yet propulsive groove throughout a song. During a first or second run- through, try playing the composition with only kick, snare, and hi-hat and evaluating whether that approach keeps things cooking. If it turns out to be a celebration of boredom, see what you can add to spice things up. But keep in mind that the idea is to do a lot without doing too much. Sometimes, a harmonious whole requires certain instru- ments to become almost invisible. Yeah, I know. You didn’t become a drummer to disappear, but try to go for a taut performance that nurtures the vocal and celebrates the track as a whole. Don’t Blow It In the old days, many pop sessions had producers and arrangers to ensure every element of a song—sonically and instrumentally—deliv- ered a massive injection of “feel good” to listeners. For home-recording musicians, those jobs are now ours alone. Embrace the responsibility. Don’t be selfish. Serve the song. For real!September 2021 Modern Drummer 15 KIT OF THE MONTH Owen Sound, Ontario drummer Bill Ruck grew up with a fascination for the three players who would become his main stylistic influences: Buddy Rich, John Bonham, and Dino Danelli. “My parents were in their 40s when I was born, so I grew up listening to their idols—Sinatra, Perry Como, and big-band players like Rich, Gene Krupa, and Louie Bellson,” says Ruck, who plays classic-rock covers in the band Wilfpack. “This exposure was a great education for when I got into rock drumming, as my idols had their roots in jazz, blues, and swing, as well. Dino Danelli blew my mind when I saw the Young Rascals on The Ed Sullivan Show. He displayed such energy, focus, and control while having a good time. In fact, I went downstairs after their performance and set up my kit like his.” A few years back, while looking for a kit on kijiji.ca (a Canadian eBay-styled buy/sell website), he scored a limited-edition, 2014 maple/birch Mapex Meridian Black Raven—one of only 200 manufactured. It was a great deal with 7x10 and 12x8 rack toms, 12x14 and 14x16 floor toms, a 20x22 bass drum, and a matching 6x14 snare. It was also showed the battle scares of being on the road with the previous owner since 2014. “The guy who had the kit for sale was a touring heavy-metal or thrash drummer, and he beat the crap out of it,” explains Ruck. “I don’t think the drums were ever put in cases, either. He was apologetic, and I think he felt guilty enough that he included around $1,500 worth of hardware for free when I purchased it.” Happily, Ruck is no slouch at drum refurbishing, and with the help of Toronto’s Yorkville Sound and Drum Center of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, he was able to restore the kit to 100-percent original condition. But it didn’t stay that way. To memorialize his wife, Violet, who had succumbed to cancer in late 2016, Ruck had his band mate, bassist, and graphic designer Wilford Van Dyk hand draw the Muppet characters that were transferred onto vinyl and wrapped around each drum. Then, all of the original hardware was added back on to complete the new look. Upon seeing the finished kit, a colleague of Ruck’s commented that if Dave Growl had been playing this kit during his epic drum off with the “real” Animal in 2015, he would have won. (Spoiler Alert if you watch on YouTube: It was a draw.) “My wife operated a home daycare for more than 25 years,” says Ruck. “She would let the kids watch The Muppet Show during lunch time, which is why I chose the Muppets to honor Violet’s memory and create a cool-looking kit at the same time.” But the memorial doesn’t stop with children’s TV characters emblazoned on a rare drum set. Ruck is offering the Mapex “Muppets” kit for sale, with some of the profits supporting Canadian cancer research in his wife’s name. Send inquiries to bill.ruck@wightman.ca. Muppet Mania Bill Ruck’s Tribute to his Wife By Michael Molenda The Wilfpack (left to right)—guitarist/ keyboardist Mike Holden, bassist Wilfred Van Dyk, drummer Bill Ruck, (kneeling) vocalist/percussionist Marcus Duffy, and lead guitarist Bill Boudreau.Modern Drummer September 2021 16 Tribute My Drum Kit Monument to Musical Giants By Corky Laing I n music, it is not who you are, but who you are with. I have been incredibly lucky to write, record, and perform with some amazing musicians for more than half a century. Sadly, many of these band mates are no longer with us, and I wondered, “What could I do to express my true, sentimental feelings about their passing?” Then, a very creative friend of mine, Ron Williams—of RonzWorld Guitar Gallery—came up with the idea of airbrushing Felix Pappa- lardi, Leslie West, Steve Knight, Jack Bruce, and Noel Redding right on the outer barrels of my tom-toms. So, now I can sit on this kit surrounded by my mates. I can take them with me on the road and in the studio. They have always been with me, but from now on, au- diences will also have a constant reminder of their existence. What a beautiful w ay to celebrate them. I thank Ron—as well as Toni Cesiro—for helping make this drum set come to life. I almost feel like it is my very first drum set, and I’m starting all over again with the most wonderful musical mates of my wonderful musical life. Here’s a closer look at the musicians behind the airbrushed images. Felix Pappalardi, Bassist, Mountain Felix was a bunch of brilliant guys—each more brilliant than the next. In the history of folk-rock music, he is a constant. He is, and always will be, a hero of mine. It would take a lot more than a short paragraph to describe his contributions to the world of music. If you were a teenager in the 1960s, he was on your radar via Cream and the Youngbloods. If you were a teenager in the 1970s, he was on the radar with Mountain, Dead Boys, and so many others. If he wasn’t performing, he was producing. If he wasn’t producing, he was fish- ing. Whatever he was doing, he was always inspiring. I took Felix to the island of Nantucket after an outdoor show we played in Hyannis, Massachusetts, back in the summer of ‘71. Our private plane landed in the middle of the night, and the next morn- Chuck LanzaSeptember 2021 Modern Drummer 17 ing, he woke up in a small rental cottage and looked out at the vast ocean and all the sand. He decided there and then he was going to move to Nantucket. I was already residing on the island, and I eagerly welcomed a fellow musician on the rock. Together, we combed the island for historic maritime pieces, and that’s when “Nantucket Sleighride” was born. That song was a metaphor for touring bands who would not stop riding the rock machine in search of that big gold record. With Felix in my life on the road touring, and kicking back during our time off in Nantucket, we became tight friends. Right up until his tragic death, there are countless beautiful and inspiring memories that I continue to cherish. Leslie West, Guitarist, Mountain Leslie was a true musical brother of mine, and, like all sibling relationships, we had our ups and downs. However, I choose to remember and celebrate our ups. From Carnegie Hall, New York City, to “Armpit,” Nebraska, we did it up. Even when we were down, we did it up. Night after night, while navigating the tours and the recordings, I’d listen to his tone. I enjoyed bouncing off his rhythm. He had brilliant time in his right hand. He had more time there than most drummers have in their whole body. He didn’t really need a drummer to play with— he was a time machine. His heart and soul were in every measure, every sound, and every downbeat. I can’t say enough about my time over five decades with him. He was a huge man with a lust for life and music. I loved—and still love—that man and his guitar. He had a big heart, and he was very generous—giving it all, all the time. Yes, I am the last man standing on the Mountain, but, in fact, Leslie was the Mountain. Steve Knight, Keyboardist, Mountain Steve was the tasty icing on the Moun- tain—not too sweet and never sour. His keyboard chops blended perfectly with the Mountain repertoire. He came to Mountain from Devil’s Anvil, which was a Middle Eastern rock group that had a residency in the ‘60s at Café Feenjon on MacDougal Street in New York City. Felix also played in Anvil, and he devel- oped a musical connection with Steve during those days. Even though Steve had mainly played bass with Anvil, Felix knew that with Steve’s taste and musi- cal background, he would fit perfectly on the keyboards in Mountain. Steve and I were like bookends in the group. He was the oldest and wisest, and I was the young buck. I gravitated towards Steve’s knowledge and his gentle posture. He spoke with a soft, welcoming voice, and I listened carefully. Steve acquired medical problems in the early 1970s, and he withdrew from the band. I missed his quiet presence. As his keyboards were to Mountain music, his presence was to the band. Without Steve, something was missing. Jack Bruce, Bassist, Cream I was among the many drummers who were fortunate enough to record, write, and perform with Jack. Apparently, one of the reasons I was included in West, Bruce & Laing was that Tony Williams had endorsed me to Jack. Tony had seen my three-piece local band, Energy, perform when we opened for his group at the Black Bottom jazz club in Montreal in the late ‘60s. And, boy, was I glad about that recommendation. Working in the studio with Jack was such a joy. Following his intriguing time signatures wasn’t easy, but I learned so much, and I had a wonderful time learn- ing. Jack wasn’t known for his patience, but he seemed to have patience with me. He did call me “Simpo,” but I took that as a term of endearment. And he was a genius outside the studio, too. He would read four books during a cross-Atlantic flight and remember everything he had read. Jack was a kind Scotsman. He actually gave me a sports car for my birthday back in 1973. However, Jack, like Felix, was all about all kinds of music, and they both played all kinds of instruments. For both of them, there was really only friendship where there were symbiotic musical collaborations. Noel Redding, Bassist, Jimi Hendrix Experience Noel was a magic man. He could take a brand-new Fender bass off the rack in any store, in any city, plug it to any amp, and that baby would be booming. Each time—there it was—the momentous bass sound you would hear at any Jimi Hendrix Experience concert. Nothing fancy—just a huge and warm bottom pulse for any drummer to lay down with. For two years, he played and recorded with Eric Schenkman of the Spin Doctors and I in the band Cork. We loved playing with Noel. People would line up before and after performances to see Noel, and to actually touch him. I guess they wanted to touch that magic from the Ex- perience. His lyrical contributions to the Cork record were out of this world, and I truly believed that Noel was out of this world, as well. If you want to read more about my musical journey—and my relationship with Felix, Leslie, and others—please check out my autobiography, Letters to Sarah [Fennica], written with Tuija Takala, or find me at corkylaingworks.com. Chuck Lanza Chuck LanzaNext >