The Bobby Rock Newsletter #52 (4-2-2022) - The RICHest Man in Showbiz, 35 Years Gone...

The Bobby Rock Newsletter #52 (4-2-2022) - The RICHest Man in Showbiz, 35 Years Gone...

Greetings Gang - 
 
Good to be back with you all for yet another edition…. which just so happens to fall on 4–2-22, the 35th anniversary of the passing of Buddy Rich, one of the greatest drummers ever to traverse the earth. I know we’ve been eulogizing around here a fair bit lately, but I just thought I would throw a little love to the King… and throw a couple other things at you guys, as well. Let’s go!
 
  • “Fuck singing!” - A retelling of one of my favorite Buddy Rich stories.

  • The Digital Sunset - How shutting down your electronics an hour before bedtime can change your life.

  • Drum Vid Vault - From "the land down under," we ran across more cool shit for the Vault this week.
 
 
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Long Live the King!


 
Bernard “Buddy" Rich was a freak-of-nature talent who, even 35 years after his passing, is still most consistently recognized the world over as the G.O.A.T. His work as a sideman reads like a who’s who of jazz greats, and his legacy as a drumming bandleader remains unparalleled in volume and scope..
 
But he was also a huge personality, to say the least, and there are a million stories about him. Here’s one of my faves, because it speaks to the notion that, when the “Universe” really wants to get you a message, it will find a not-so-subtle way to do so!  
 
I will recount the story here, which I first read in Mel Torme’s excellent bio on Buddy, Traps the Drum Wonder:
 
 

+ + + + + + +
 
Early in 1960, Buddy Rich was just 42, but had already been hospitalized twice for heart troubles. After that second visit, doctors warned him that he would most certainly suffer a heart attack if he continued to play drums. So, since he had shown some aptitude as a singer, he decided to shift gears in his career and have his agent start booking him as a lead vocalist. His first show was at a small jazz club in NYC.
 
Among the guests that night was legendary jazz vocalist Mel Tormé (a longtime friend of Buddy’s who also happened to be a decent drummer). Buddy’s set was, by Mel's account, “a pleasant evening of music,” suggesting that it was a good show, but not a remarkable one. It seemed that the disparity between Buddy’s abilities as a singer versus a drummer was, not surprisingly, quite evident 
 
After the show, Mel and Buddy took a quiet, somewhat reflective walk around 52nd St., heading toward the mecca of jazz clubs for which it was famous. Finally, Rich broke the silence.
 
“Well, what did you think?” he asked.
 
“Let me put it this way,” Mel replied. “I’m not your favorite drummer, and you’re not my favorite singer.”
 
Buddy nodded.
 
Mel continued with a bit of cautiously optimistic encouragement, but it was clear that reality was starting to set in for the lifelong drummer.
 
“Nah,” Buddy interrupted. “I like to sing but singing isn’t my thing."
 
They eventually wandered onto “Swing Street,” which was nearly deserted by this time. But the two heard music coming from a small club, so they stepped in and grabbed a couple seats.  Pianist Allen Eager’s band was mid-set, with none other than the legendary Max Roach on drums.  Buddy slouched down in his chair, now feeling depressed. This singing thing wasn’t looking good. What would he do now?
 
Between songs, Eager spotted Buddy and, with a touch of sarcasm, announced to the few patrons there that “the world’s greatest drummer” was in their midst. He then began to goad Buddy into joining them onstage to sit in on a tune. Buddy initially dismissed the invite with a wave of his hand, but Eager was relentless with his invite. Even Max Roach began to beckon Buddy, offering up his drum sticks in a closed fist. (Ironically, these two had just recorded a drum battle-themed record together the year before entitled Rich vs Roach.)
 
 
Buddy wanted to play, but he turned to Mel for a yea or nay. Mel, although concerned for his friend's health, opted to encourage Buddy to “Show ‘em how it’s done.” That was all Buddy needed to hear. He hit the stage, grabbed the sticks from Max, then lowered himself behind the kit. And then Eager counted off a jazz standard (“I Found a New Baby”) at an impossibly fast tempo, apparently looking to fluster Buddy. Instead, Buddy—highly adept to sizzling fast tempos—was off to the races, and the band started cookin.’ 
 
And then, as Mel explains it, something incredible happened. The club inexplicably began to pack out. Folks were rapidly materializing from the ethers of this quiet night and, by the time the band was four minutes into this blazing fast tune, the place was asses-to-elbows jammed. Once Eager saw what was happening, he started yelling out for Buddy to take a solo and, predictably, Buddy went apeshit.
 
At the rousing conclusion of his solo some nine minutes later, Mel recalls, the room had boiled over into pure mayhem, with the rowdy New York audience paying tribute and praise to Rich like he was Babe Ruth at Yankee Stadium, winning the World Series with a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth. (Again, I’m paraphrasing here… but not by much!) Truly, it was an extraordinary moment.
 
By the time Mel and Buddy left the club, it was a cold and damp 2:00 AM, so they bundled up and began the trek back to Buddy’s apartment. Mel purposely kept quiet, and when Buddy finally spoke up, there were no surprises:
 
“Fuck singing,” he said. "I’m a drummer.” 
 
+ + + + + + + 
 
And indeed he was, as his career stretched and flourished another 27 years into the future.
 
I was lucky enough to catch Buddy at least a dozen times live in concert, innumerable times on Johnny Carson and other TV shows (which I would diligently track each week via the Sunday paper TV guide), and, of course, on the countless records, tapes, and CDs that I've amassed through the years. He remains one of my favorite all-time drummers and one of the single biggest influences on my playing, even though our styles are quite different (although, coincidentally, our names are quite similar: BR initials with five-letter first names ending in “y" and four-letter lasts!)
 
Long Live the King!
 
 
 
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The Digital Sunset:
Shutting Down the Screens for Bedtime
 
Our best shot at a productive day actually begins the evening before, as we prepare for a good night’s rest. But with most of the world looking at screens right up until we call it a night, we are not doing ourselves any favors in the quality sleep department. Science is very clear about the harmful effects of all that “blue light” emanating from our devices, with a 50+percent drop in melatonin release being at the top of the list of offenses. And this is to say nothing of the mental obliteration that occurs as a result of the trash we often tend to entertain ourselves with in the process. 
 
Enter: the Digital Sunset. I believe I first heard of this concept from author Cal Newport in his excellent book, Deep Work (although I’m not sure if he referred to the idea exactly with this term). The idea is simple but, as usual, not easy. At least one hour before bedtime (two is better), all screens go off. Period! In fact, I believe he even has a ritual in place for himself where he says something like “Shut-down complete” once he powers everything down. 
 
This Digital Sunset is an idea that I’m completely on board with in theory, but in practice, I’ve had a lot of resistance to it. Truth is, late night is a great time for me to write, and I’m often forcing my eyes open until the wee hours at the desk, doing exactly that… before falling into bed directly afterward. Plus, I wasn’t sure exactly how much of a difference it would make until I consistently tried it with my sleep-tracking app. Sure enough, it produced some reliable results in the “Deep Sleep” department. 
 
 
Here are four-nights-in-a-row results from a couple weeks ago. The box in the upper right corner was the one night when I didn’t have much of a Digital Sunset, and it produced a notably lighter result in deep sleep. I’m not sure exactly how accurate these things are (iWatch using the AutoSleep app), but the results seem remarkably consistent: when I shut down the screens at least an hour before I crash—boom—more deep sleep.
 
So give this thing a shot. In the alternative to blowing up your brain with the gadgets, find some “analog” activities to try pre-bedtime. I’ve been doing some old-school journaling (pen on paper), some soft tissue grinding (on a foam roller or therapy ball), light stretching, and just trying to wind down in the quiet, prior to sleep.  Stay tuned, kids. My efforts for better sleeping habits continue.
 
Here’s to some great sleeps ahead…
 
For a bit more on the science behind it all, check out BR Newsletter Issue #15 here:
 
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Drum Vid Vault: Sydney, Australia with Lita Ford
 
 
Trying to throw it down a little during a solo spot in Sydney, on a scaled-down kit! This is from an Australia run with Lita Ford a few years back. Hope to return there soon…
 
To see lots more of this kind of thing, scope out the Drum Vid Vault HERE - (The Sydney solo is #13)



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Thanks again, everybody. Connect next week!

Until then,
BR


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