The day is finally here. I've been doing this series for some time now, and I've featured some of the most influential drummers of the 20th century. This is the day that I know the drummers have been waiting for.
And yet, after my diary yesterday, I feel rather spent. I'll let Buddy Rich do his own diary for the most part. I don't think he'd shy away from that.
I saw Buddy two times: once at Disneyland in 1969, and later at a high school gymnasium. The second time, I got to sit in the front row, about as close to his bass drum as I am to my computer screen. Buddy introduced his daughter, Cathy, and her boyfriend, his "friend-in-law." He was a little rough on them, but nothing more severe than any fathers of the girls I went out with.
After that show, the drum tech gave me a souvenir, a stripped wingscrew from Buddy's cymbal holder. It's in the garage with the rest of the loose parts, but I know which one it is.
Buddy was more than a drummer: he was a phenomenon. That's the Cowardly Lion at the beginning of this clip.
Buddy was known for his drum battles:
Sometimes, they weren't exactly the most even contests. Gene was not playing out that much by the time this was recorded. Buddy was in his prime.
Sometimes, they weren't exactly battles as much as opportunities for Buddy to show off.
And, I guess, no Buddy Rich diary would be complete without his solo from West Side Story:
Buddy expected the same level of commitment from his band too. This tirade might even have made Dick Cheney blush. WARNING! Strong language.
Buddy was just Buddy, right up to the end.
Buddy would have been 92 today. One can only imagine how cranky he'd be, but I'm sure it would still be a treat to see him play. Happy birthday, Buddy.