Reflections on Buddy Rich

Sunday is a day when I pull out albums I haven't listened to in awhile. Old pop, old rock, old jazz, whatever I look at and think, "Man, I haven't listened to that in forever," I throw it in the stereo and give it a listen.

Today, I pulled out Buddy Rich's Swingin' New Big Band, and it brought back a lot of memories.

I first heard Buddy at my cousin's wedding of all places. She hired a disc jockey named Denny Farrell who spun records at a local suburban jazz station for the reception. I had listened to big band music at my grandparents' house, but had never heard music like that before. It was fast, and it really swung. I talked to my uncle about it and he introduced me to Mr. Farrell after the reception. He told him I was a young drummer and I asked about the Buddy Rich tune he'd played, which I can't even remember now. We talked for awhile and, about two weeks later, I got a package in the mail from Mr. Farrell with a cassette tape full of Buddy Rich and Gene Krupa.

I can't tell you how many hours I spent in my basement on my old Ludwig kit playing along to that tape on my Sony Walkman. I always found Buddy's speed, precision and musicality astounding. And most importantly, he inspired me to practice rudiments, to focus on my technique and to develop solid time.

I only saw Buddy play live one time. It was in 1985 at the Chicago Jazz Festival. That was it. I was a drummer for the rest of my life. As proof of the ongoing value of YouTube, I actually found a video of Buddy's solo during his famous West Side Story Suite that I saw that day. Laughably, you can still see the telltale discoloring at the top of the screen from the source VHS video tape.