Drumming In The Shadows Of Giants

by Neil Peart

Anatomy Of A Drum Solo essay, Dec. 7, 2005

Anatomy Of A Drum SoloFour score years ago (give or take), our forefathers brought forth the drum solo. The people watched and listened, danced and cheered, and it was good.

Prophets and pioneers like Baby Dodds, Chick Webb, and Big Sid Catlett passed the sticks down to Gene Krupa, and his showmanship and rhythmic grace brought the spotlight to the drum solo as a popular performance piece. Gene Krupa was the first and only drummer to have a movie based on his life, and more than forty years ago, before I ever touched a pair of drumsticks or knew what a snare drum was, I saw The Gene Krupa Story on late-night TV. To the boy I was then, the notion of being a drummer seemed exciting, glamorous, elegant, and dangerous, and my eyes must have been shining with inspiration and desire. I remember thinking, "I wanna do that!"

A few years later, when I did get a pair of drumsticks, and learned what a snare drum was, I began to get a sense of how much I had to learn. By the mid-’60s, so many giants had come before, pushing the frontiers of what had come to be known as jazz music. Buddy Rich’s amazing technique and musicality had raised the drum solo to an even higher level of artistry and popular appreciation, and other inspired soloists like Louie Bellson, Max Roach, Joe Morello, Sonny Payne, Roy Haynes, Art Blakey, and Jack DeJohnette took the form in fresh, exciting directions.

And at the same time as I was starting out, drum solos began to bloom in rock music too, in concerts and recordings. Ginger Baker, Mitch Mitchell, Carmine Appice, John Bonham, Carl Palmer, and Michael Shrieve brought audiences to their feet in theaters, arenas, stadiums, and festivals, and fired me with more inspiration and desire—"I wanna do that!"

Through the ’60s and ’70s, jazz remained vital and constantly changing. Its various mutations produced brilliant innovators like Billy Cobham and Tony Williams, who built a bridge between jazz and rock—a bridge that would later be crossed in both directions by Steve Gadd, Steve Smith, Peter Erskine, Bill Bruford, Terry Bozzio, Dave Weckl, and many others, all traveling with their own musical mastery and unbounded imagination.

For anyone who appreciates drum solos, whether playing them or watching and listening, I hope Anatomy of a Drum Solo will be entertaining, informative, and maybe even inspiring.

For those who recognize the feeling, "I wanna do that!", I can atleast demonstrate and articulate the way this drummer thinks about drum soloing, but my far greater hope is to inspire others to build their own solos, tell their own stories, as an expression of their tastes, their character, and their lives.

The drum solo is a tradition handed down to us, our heritage, as it were, and it is a heritage worth celebrating. Giants have come before us, and giants will come after, but even while us mere mortals play in their shadows, we can be inspired to aim just a little higher every day — or every night.

Drum solos are not for everyone, of course, whether they’re drummers or music lovers. But even drummers who choose not to perform drum solos can still enjoy and benefit from a private indulgence. Exploring and experimenting freely, and even just that kind of practicing on your own, can only nourish and improve your playing.

At the end of my commentary in this DVD, I offer a blessing, or a wish, that is not just for drummers, but for everybody:

Go forth into the musical wilderness, and play well!