Drum Battles - Krupa and Rich, et al.

 © Copyright ® Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“The Jazz at the Philharmonic tour that fall [1955] lifted Gene's spirits, at least for a while. But the traveling paled them. I often watched that pointless drum battle with Buddy Rich at every concert, and wondered what it was doing to his ego. Buddy was like some great meat-grinder, gobbling up Gene's solos, cresting his triumph in traded fours and eights and ending with an unbelievable flourish. Gene took it in the finest of manners. He didn't think music had a thing to do with competition. He had a way of carrying himself correctly when he walked on, and used that strut of a sort to the fullest at the close of those demoralizing drum wars. I broached the subject to him once. Just once. "Anyone playing with Bud is going to get blown away, Chappie. And remember, the audience isn't as perceptive as you are." His answer was matter-of-fact, with no hint of malice.”

- Pianist Bobby Scott’s essay, Gene Krupa: The World Is Not Enough

“On those famous JATP concerts of the Fifties and Sixties, one feature was the crowd-pleasing drum battles. But here, in the studio, a battle wasn't the order of business. Instead, the two drummers jointly propel a relaxed yet swinging session, augmented by a stellar cast culled from Granz's stable: Roy Eldridge and Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet, Flip Phillips and Illinois Jacquet on tenor sax, and the Oscar Peterson rhythm section.

The resulting album, presented here in its entirety, became an obscure item in the Verve catalog — though fondly remembered by musician and critic alike. Not only overlooked in the discographical firmament, this long out-of-print album escaped major notice upon its release. But Buddy Rich's obituaries claim it was one of his three favorite records, and Krupa extolled it as well in Leonard Feather's Encyclopedia of Jazz.”

- Sid Gribetz, insert notes, Krupa and Rich [Verve CD 5180825] 

So the story goes: a young drumming enthusiast took his mother to hear “the great Buddy Rich” one night while the “The Great One’s” big band was in London appearing at Ronnie’s Scott’s world famous Jazz club. By some miracle, the young man managed to score a front row table close to the drum kit.

Toward the end of the first set, Buddy launched into one of his lengthy, bombastic drum solos - eyes a blaze and sticks a blur. About five minutes into the fireworks, Buddy dropped a drumstick at which point the mother turned to the son with an anguished look on her face and said: “Oh gawd, does this mean that he has to start again?!”

In a nutshell, I think that’s how many Jazz fans view long drum solos. Not only does the audience not know how to listen to them, but most drummers are not very good at playing them.

These tour de forces are more about showmanship than they are about artistry and they usually go over better when they are presented in that manner - as a spectacle full of drumnistic explosions, cymbal crashes and profusely sweating drummers.

Enter Norman Granz and the Jazz at The Philharmonic [JATP] tours that he organized to tour the USA and Europe from 1944-1957, although they would continue intermittently thereafter with the last one finishing in Japan in October, 1983.

In addition to drum battles, Norman's lineups also included trumpet duels and tenor saxophone cutting sessions, all of which were served up as crowd pleasers and few of which had much musical merit.

With no disrespect to trumpeters Dizzy Gillespie and Roy Eldridge, or tenor saxophonists Flip Phillips and Illinois Jacquet, intended, their popularity couldn’t compete with the drum battles between the legendary old-timer, Gene Krupa and the newly-arrived-in-town gunslinger, Buddy Rich.

The JATP concerts usually ended with mano-a-mano clashes between these drum warriors, a few snippets of which made it onto some of the recordings in the JATP series.

But in fairness to Norman, he also produced a musical version involving the encounters between Gene and Buddy in a 1955 studio session for Clef Records that included Roy, Dizzy, Thad Jones and Joe Newman on trumpet, Illinois, Flip, Ben Webster and Frank Wess on tenor saxophone, guitarists Herb Ellis and Freddie Green, Oscar Peterson on piano and Ray Brown on bass.

With two additional tracks on the CD, the music on this recording is very well-played with excellent solos by all concerned. It’s not just about the drum solos, although, as you would expect, there are many, most of which are tasteful, some of which are too long.

The advertisement for Krupa and Rich [Clef MGC-684; Verve CD 5180825] phrased it this way:

“Norman Granz paired these two most popular drummers in a relaxed yet swinging studio session, augmented by a stellar cast culled from Granz's stable: Roy Eldridge and Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet, Illinois Jacquet and Flip Phillips on tenor sax, and the Oscar Peterson rhythm section. More than seventy-one minutes of music, including two bonus tracks — featuring Basieites Freddie Green, Thad Jones, Joe Newman, and Frank Wess as well as Ben Webster.”

And the uncredited original liner notes to the Clef LP offered this commentary about the recording:

“The question was once put squarely to Gene Krupa: What do you think of Buddy Rich? With no hesitation, Krupa replied: "Buddy Rich? I think Buddy Rich is the greatest drummer in the world today, bar none. Can I make it any more empathic than that?"

Reverse the scene. Turn the tables. Put Buddy Rich on the spot with the same question. "You want to know what I think of Gene Krupa?" said Buddy Rich. "Well, where do you begin? Gene Krupa was the beginning and the 'end' of all jazz drummers. He's a great genius — a truly great genius of the drums. Gene discovered things that could be done with the drums that hadn't been done before, ever. He discovered these things and made the most of them . . . I'll tell you about Gene. Before Gene, the drums were in the background, just a part of the band. To put it in plainer terms, the drums didn't have much — meaning. Along comes Gene and the drums take on meaning and they're out of the background. The drummer becomes somebody, you know? Gene gets credit for making people aware of the drummer — of what he's doing and why he's doing it and he deserves every bit of that credit. Can you imagine jazz without Gene?"

Jazz without Gene Krupa. Hardly. Of all the musicians in jazz, Krupa is one of a handful whose name has a stature, a unique luster — his standing is, in a word, assured, of a piece with the Louis Armstrongs, the Benny Goodmans. Krupa has pierced the public consciousness and this recognition, international in scope, extends beyond jazz fans to any hypothetical man on any street, anywhere.

The son of an alderman on Chicago's South Side, Krupa started playing drums in school. (Years ago, all high school bands in Chicago would compete for citywide honors in a contest at Riverview, the amusement park. At one such contest, in the early 1920's, this trio was in competition on the drums: Davy Tough, playing for Austin High, George Wettling for Calumet and a black-haired kid named Gene Krupa playing for the honor of Fenger High.) Krupa. as an eager kid, would listen for hours to the illustrious Bobby Dodds at such Chicago jazz clubs as the Lincoln Gardens and Dreamland. For a time, Krupa went out to St. Joseph's College in Rensselaer, Ind., with notions of studying for the priesthood. However, the lure of jazz was too strong. Later, as everyone knows, Krupa was one of the most vital performers with the Benny Goodman band in the Swing Era — a colorful, gum-chewing, face-distorting drummer whose steady beat and spectacular flourishes were as much a part of that band and that era as Goodman's own soaring clarinet. By 1940, Krupa had his own band and has since led his own unit and toured with Jazz at the Philharmonic. One more item: For all his fame and 40-somc years — he was born in 1908 — Krupa, one hastens to state, is no doddering historical figure. Today, he is still rated at the top.

Actually — and in a sense, curiously — Buddy Rich is one of the very few modern drummers who couldn't honestly list Gene Krupa as an "influence." When Rich was a youngster, he listened intently to Krupa and to Chick Webb and to Jo Jones. What he heard impressed him greatly. But the mold, as it were, had already been cast. Buddy Rich, after all, had been drumming professionally since he was barely out of his cradle. Born in 1917 to a show business family, Buddy was "Traps, the Drum Wonder" before he was 5 and by the time he was 8 he was an all-around performer. Band drumming came much later, in 1938, when Rich joined Joe Marsala's outfit. Since then, Rich has played with innumerable big bands and has led his own band and small groups.

For the last two years, the Krupa-Rich "drum battles" have been an integral part of "Jazz at the Philharmonic" although this is the first time the two have ever recorded together in a studio, although they have recorded on Jazz at the Philharmonic concert albums. On appropriately named tunes. Rich's major solo is heard on "Buddy's Blues" while Krupa demonstrates his stickwork on "Gene's Blues." Each gets superb backing from a group comprising Flip Phillips, Illinois Jacquet, tenor saxophones; Dizzy Gillespie and Roy Eldridge, trumpets; Ray Brown, bass; Herb Ellis, guitar, and Oscar Peterson, piano.”

And Sid Gribetz provided this narrative for the Reissuing of Krupa and Rich on CD:

Reissuing Krupa and Rich 

 

“Krupa and Rich together — in the studio — recreating the glory of the Jazz at the Philharmonic (JATP) tours, where Norman Granz paired these two most popular drummers.

On those famous JATP concerts of the Fifties and Sixties, one feature was the crowd-pleasing drum battles. But here, in the studio, a battle wasn't the order of business. Instead, the two drummers jointly propel a relaxed yet swinging session, augmented by a stellar cast culled from Granz's stable: Roy Eldridge and Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet, Flip Phillips and Illinois Jacquet on tenor sax, and the Oscar Peterson rhythm section.

The resulting album, presented here in its entirety, became an obscure item in the Verve catalog — though fondly remembered by musician and critic alike. Not only overlooked in the discographical firmament, this long out-of-print album escaped major notice upon its release. But Buddy Rich's obituaries claim it was one of his three favorite records, and Krupa extolled it as well in Leonard Feather's Encyclopedia of Jazz.

Krupa and Rich — drummers par excellence at driving a big band but also effective in other settings, as their remarkable careers attest:

Gene Krupa was born on January 15, 1909 and came of age in the Chicago jazz scene of the Twenties. Krupa got the call to join Benny Goodman in 1935, and in that role he was present at the creation of the Swing Era. His charismatic presence and powerful rhythmic drive helped the big band galvanize young audiences. But Krupa also recorded with the Goodman small groups, experimental both for the chamber-jazz music they played and the racial integration they practiced. Krupa's lasting influence necessarily remains his antics on "Sing, Sing, Sing", with his seminal, song-like, extended drum solo.

Krupa left Goodman in 1938 to form his own big band, featuring such gone [outrageously cool] vocalists as Anita O'Day and Leo Watson, and again breaking ground by luring Roy Eldridge to become a front-line star and integrate his band.

In 1942, Gene's career was interrupted by his arrest and incarceration on charges of marijuana possession that were later dropped. After his hiatus, Krupa re-formed a big band which, while accommodating the new sound of post-war modern jazz, never achieved the same heights of popularity. It disbanded in 1951, and Krupa became the daring leader of a trio, sometimes a quartet, featuring such saxophonists as Willie Smith and Benny Carter, then regularly Charlie Ventura and finally, from 1954 through the rest of the decade, Eddie Shu.

In 1952 Krupa was one of the first American jazz musicians to tour Japan, where he was a great success. Krupa's small groups also became fixtures on the JATP tours.

Buddy Rich was born in Brooklyn on June 30, 1917 to the vaudeville team known as Wilson and Rich. He began drumming with the act as a toddler and was known as Traps, the Boy Wonder.

By the late Thirties Rich was playing with many of the top jazz groups, starting with Joe Marsala at the Hickory House, and he was with Tommy Dorsey from 1939 to 1942. After his World War II service, Rich formed his own big band. But he too explored small combos and was equally effective in that context. In the mid-Fifties he teamed with Harry James's small group as one of the highest paid sidemen of that era.

Rich was also an important member of the JATP cast, and his showmanship and pyrotechnics were a perfect fit for the movable JATP feast. In that regard, Krupa and Rich had a natural affinity.

They were first coupled for the fall 1952 JATP tour, and the drum contests were marvelously hyped. The Carnegie Hall concert was recorded and released on record, titanically billed as The Great Drum Battle.

While the drum battles were crowd pleasers, they were grudgingly accepted by the musicians — as Gene and Buddy held each other in such high esteem. Yet Rich's prodigious skills couldn't be matched in such a contest. While these contests furnished puffery in contemporary reviews, Krupa's pianist Bobby Scott remembers, in Gene Lees's Jazzletter:

"I often watched that pointless drum battle with Buddy Rich in every concert, wondering what it was doing to his ego. Buddy was like some great meat-grinder, gobbling up Gene's solos, cresting his triumph in traded fours and eights and ending with an unbelievable flourish. Gene took it in the finest of manners. He didn't think music had a thing to do with competition. He once told me: “'Anyone playing with Bud is going to get blown away'."

Therefore, for the astute jazz listener, this singular studio recording is the more suitable vehicle to hear the two drummers at work together. The disc records their fire and filigree while omitting the hyperbole of the concert battles. For example, Bernie's Tune includes a stirring six-minute-plus drum introduction that burns without the heat of competition. On Buddy's Blues and Gene's Blues, each goes alone, kicking the horn soloists and concluding with individual flourishes. These are wonderful, lengthy drum solos that never bore, allowing us to savor their virtuosity.

The album further bears listening today for the supporting company. Eldridge, Gillespie, Jacquet, Phillips, and Peterson were all giants in their own right and regular attractions on the JATP tour. They team together here in seamless perfection, combining arranged routines with the loose camaraderie of the all-star concert session. This album, affording an opportunity to hear Dizzy Gillespie playing with his idol, Roy Eldridge, is less well known than others they did for Verve — yet here too they inspire each other to stratospheric heights. The date also serves as a reunion for Gene and Roy.

"Buddy's Blues" and "Gene's Blues", jam session swingers, provide each of the eminent horn players with ample room to shine, their solos preceded by brief drum breaks. But "Bernie's Tune" is the tour de force, with the extended drum introduction followed by friendly tussles, first between the two tenor players and then between the trumpeters, building gradually to a fiery finish.

The two standards, Sweethearts on Parade and I Never Knew, swing tastefully in a relaxed groove. "Sweethearts" is taken at a leisurely and pretty pace until Dizzy abruptly escalates into some double-time magic at the conclusion of the piece. "I Never Knew" is quaintly reworked with an engaging arrangement that brackets the individual improvisations. These two selections also serve to offer opportunities for Oscar Peterson's lush piano solos.”

Sid Gribetz

November 1993

As you would imagine, the marketing folks at some of the other recording labels featuring Jazz got a hold of the Drum Battle idea and the result was a slew of issues between 1955 and 1960 as the following album covers will attest.