This is a follow-up of sorts to fellow Blogcritic Glen Boyd’s recent “Whatever Happened To The Live Album?” article published on BC a couple of weeks ago. I really enjoyed Glen’s piece. But there seemed to be an essential element of the Seventies live album absent from his article.
Whatever happened to the drum solo?
When you went to a concert in the Seventies, the drum solo was a given. And it was never really an issue. It simply provided you with an opportunity to reload the bong, or to take a whizz. Kind of an intermission basically. But then someone got the bright idea to include the drum solo in the inevitable double live album, and all hell broke loose.
Blame it on Iron Butterfly, or I. Ron Butterfly as Bart Simpson calls them. At one point their In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida was the biggest selling album in Atlantic Records’ history. The centerpiece of that 17 minute extravaganza is Ron Bushy’s drum solo. It may not have been the greatest in the world, but it was memorable. When the record blew up, the drum solo was with us for a long time to come.
Atlantic’s next biggest selling band was Cream. Did Ahmet Ertegun force them to put Ginger Baker’s 16 minute “Toad” on Wheels Of Fire? I hope not. Jeez, “Toad,“ what a title! The guy looks like a toad for starters, and the song is about as interesting as one to boot.
Blue collar rockers Grand Funk Railroad then entered the picture. On “Mark Says Alright” from Live Album, drummer Don Brewer beats the skins mercilessly. Meanwhile singer Mark Farner utters his immortal line, “All right!” A truly transcendent moment.
After an excursion with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Deep Purple decided to get into the drum solo business in a big way. Their classic Made In Japan from 1972 contained “The Mule.” Ten excruciating minutes of Ian Paice showing the world what he could do when left to his own devices. “The Mule” kind of felt like punishment for enjoying definitive live versions of “Smoke On The Water,” “Child In Time,” and “Highway Star.”
Between Physical Graffiti and Presence, Led Zeppelin released their live document, The Song Remains The Same. While Robert Plant was asking the audience if they remembered laughter, John Bonham was composing his magnum opus. “Moby Dick” clocks in at nearly 13 minutes, and comes complete with Bonzo tossing down his sticks to beat the drums bare handed. “Moby Dick” was an endurance test of sorts. Only a true blue stoner could sit through it, patiently awaiting the finale of “Whole Lotta Love.”
For me, the last great Seventies double live LP drum solo was by Rush’s Neal Peart. All The World’s A Stage chronicled their 2112 tour, and his solo caps the era. I love Geddy Lee’s intro, “And now, the professor of the drum kit” and Peart, great drummer as he is, really does rock a great one.
The extended drum solo was as much a part of the double live LP as any FM radio “hits” were in the early 1970’s. By the time Frampton came alive, the moment had clearly passed.
But as a true child of the High Times magazine era, I miss one of the weirdest, and oh so Seventies-ish aspects of rock and roll. That endless, stoned, and basically pointless section of the show.
This is a follow-up of sorts to fellow Blogcritic Glen Boyd’s recent “Whatever Happened To The Live Album?” article published on BC a couple of weeks ago. I really enjoyed Glen’s piece. But there seemed to be an essential element of the Seventies live album absent from his article.
Whatever happened to the drum solo?
When you went to a concert in the Seventies, the drum solo was a given. And it was never really an issue. It simply provided you with an opportunity to reload the bong, or to take a whizz. Kind of an intermission basically. But then someone got the bright idea to include the drum solo in the inevitable double live album, and all hell broke loose.
Blame it on Iron Butterfly, or I. Ron Butterfly as Bart Simpson calls them. At one point their In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida was the biggest selling album in Atlantic Records’ history. The centerpiece
Mr. Big, the hard rock supergroup that formed in the 1980s and yielded the hits "To Be With You" and "Green Tinted Sixties Mind" has reunited.
The band is comprised of bassist Billy Sheehan (of Talas and David Lee Roth Band fame), guitarist Paul Gilbert (formerly Racer X), drummer Pat Torpey (formerly of The Knack) and singer Eric Martin.
The group debuted with their eponymous album in 1989. This album laid the groundwork for their distinct sound: crunching, shredding guitars, precision-pounded drums, booming bass, and raspy melodic vocals. Soaring choruses combined with crunch delighted fans of the band the world over.
Wait. This sounds like almost every other band that blossomed out of the 80s under the rock/heavy metal genre.
What differentiated Mr. Big from other bands of their time was the fact that all of the members had previous successful careers in
Dan Auerbach's solo debut "Keep It Hid" adds facet to his grand musical prowess and range.
"It's all just soul music," Dan Auerbach, front man and guitarist of The Black Keys, said as he described his first solo work outside of the popular "two-man stomp" along with drummer Patrick Carney (press release).For the Akron, Ohio native, Keep It Hid represents both a departure and a slight reworking of the down-to-earth...
There have been a lot of musical siblings through the years and some of them immediately come to mind, but it's difficult to imagine a group of brothers and sisters quite like the Dinnings. Over a period of several decades, they covered just about every aspect of music; including songwriting, bandleading, recording, and performing on stage and screen. And those doing the performing included a popular all-girl singing group, and a young crooner who thrilled teens with a chart-topping hit that was banned in Great Britain. (And if that wasn't enough, the family's next generation included a member of a popular modern rock group -- but more later about that.) Of course, there were nine Dinning siblings so that gave them a leg up but it's still a fascinating story, one that began with a musical childhood in Oklahoma encouraged by their father, the musical director of a
Canadian Investors partner with The Blues Hall of Fame to transform the Delta town of Clarksdale Mississippi into a world class tourist destination.
Rock and Roll, it has often been said, is just the blues sped up. You can’t really argue with that statement. Rock, in all its diverse glory owes its existence to the blues. After all, if it weren’t for the blues, the 12 bar chord progressions, the rhythm of drum and guitar, the chanting songs that re-laid the stories and the history of...
Canadian investors partner with The Blues Hall of Fame to transform the Delta town of Clarksdale, Mississippi into a world class tourist destination.
Rock and roll, it has often been said, is just the blues sped up. You can't really argue with that statement. Rock, in all its diverse glory, owes its existence to the blues. After all, if it weren't for the blues, the 12-bar chord progressions, the rhythm of drum and guitar, the chanting songs that re-laid the stories and the history of a people,...
