Do What You Like

by Mark Richardson

I used to think that there were two basic types of drummer: background  and foreground.  The background guys (Charlie Watts in the Rolling Stones, for instance) do just that: they focus on the rhythm without seemingly anyone noticing just how essential they are to what is happening around them, while the foreground lot (Keith Moon, late of The Who, is an inevitable example) constantly push forwards, forcing the rest to compete lest they get drowned out by the energy as well as the noise.

Ginger Baker, late of this parish, seemed a classic example of the latter type. Ferocious drumming formed an essential part of his work with Cream, the power trio that helped define popular music at the end of the 1960s. With only three instruments, a trio is going to have to work hard to fill an auditorium such as the Albert Hall, and Baker’s style was eminently suited to this, introducing a startled world to the concept of lengthy drum solos (that forced legendary guitarist Eric Clapton into the role of rhythm guitarist, or not even having space to play at all). Perhaps because of that group, Baker seemed to embody for many people the principles of being a ‘heavy’ drummer: brash, egocentric, relishing the limelight, courting notoriety, and, above all, being LOUD.

However, that was not him: or at least, it was him all right, but only part of him. He came out of the jazz world, most particularly the big band jazz world of London in the 1950s, a world full of extraordinary talent and sophistication. Baker was adept at complex time-signatures, team-playing, following careful instruction and “keeping out of the way”, as drummer Buddy Rich described it. You can tell this in some of his work with next supergroup Blind Faith, and with his own group Air Force, the latter really showing an immense range of material that never really engaged a record-buying public at the time.

You can really see his combination of foreground and background taking place when he restlessly and bravely undertook a challenging trip to Nigeria and started his own studio, focusing on local musicians, most notably the then unknown Fela Kuti. It would not be anything more than European condescension to suggest that World Music started anywhere, least of all with Ginger Baker, but he embraced the rhythms and music rather than just adding ‘local colour’ to his own music.

Check out the title of this article: it’s the title of a composition that first appeared in studio form on the Blind Faith album, composed by Baker. And then check out the live version on his Airforce album (notably the 32-minute version!). You get background in the former, and then plenty of foreground in the live version.

If there’s a heavenly choir up there, it needs to get a lot louder to compete.