Back in the early 80s, the Rolling Stones were talking seriously about parting ways.
Convening late at night in Mick Jagger's hotel suite to discuss their future, the band's singer noticed drummer Charlie Watts was missing.
Immediately Jagger ran to the phone and rang his bandmate's room, demanding to know, "Where's my drummer?"
For a time nothing happened until there came a knock at Jagger's door.
In walked a dapper looking Charlie, smelling strongly of cologne. According to those who were there, Watts walked over to Jagger's chair, lifted him up by the lapels, then punched him square in the face.
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The punch hit Jagger so hard it toppled him into a plate of smoked salmon. "Don't ever call me 'your' drummer again, you're my f***in' singer," Watts said.
He then walked out before Jagger had time to say anything.
Thirty-seven years on, it may seem like just another one of the stories that surround the legendary Stones, but it reveals an essential truth about the band that should never be forgotten: Watts was the beating heart at the core of the Rolling Stones.
AP Photo/Carlos Rene Perez, File
)As Ronnie Wood put it in the 2003 documentary Tip of the Tongue: "Charlie's the engine, we don't go anywhere without the engine."
Guitarist and songwriter Keith Richards was even more succinct: "Charlie Watts is the Stones."
Rock was never his first love
Watts played his first show with the band — who called themselves the Rollin' Stones back then — at the Flamingo Club in Piccadilly on January 4, 1963, according to biographer Stephen Davis.
On that night, Watts — head tilted, locked in groove with bass player Bill Wyman — sent the band careening into the stratosphere.
The next night the band played at the Marquee Club as the opening act for Cyril Davies Allstar. Those who were there saw the Stones blow the headliners off stage and into oblivion, with Watts driving the band forward.
AFP: Liu Jin
)As Stephen Davis put it: "What Charlie Watts could do with a Bo Diddley beat can't be put into words. Any drummer who mastered the primitive rhythm could see what it could do."
Ironically, perhaps, rock music was not Watts's first love. He was by choice a jazz drummer. It was this obsession that gave him his deftness of touch and his ability to swing. As he told Rolling Stone magazine, his view on rock was simple:
"It's dance music, but it hasn't really progressed musically. Progression is Miles Davis playing modals. You can't do that in rock."
But having joined the Stones, he didn't hesitate. Hanging around the apartment rented by Brian Jones and Keith Richards at Edith Grove, he took a crash course in rock and roll courtesy of Jones's record collection.
Hour after hour Watts sat and listened to the best of the best. The records he chose were all black music, all from Chicago featuring the stars of the Chess label. Watts never looked back.
Genius and versatility
When it came time for blues musician Howlin' Wolf to travel from Chicago to Britain, where he planned to record an album, Watts was the first man enlisted by Eric Clapton to play. He didn't let them down.
If you want testimony to the genius and versatility of Watts the simple test is pick up a copy of the Rolling Stones' High Tide Green Grass — preferably on vinyl — and play it loud.
Two songs stand out from a drumming perspective. The first is 19th Nervous Breakdown. The second is the decidedly odd rhythm of Get off My Cloud. Watts handles both with remarkable dexterity. More than that, he makes both songs come alive. For any drummer, there can be no greater accolade.
If you wish to hear the unique power of Watts and his ability to lift the Stones from being just another good band, sit quietly and listen to his contribution to Sister Morphine. With words penned by Marianne Faithful, Watts waits a full two-and-a-half verses before his entry.
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It's worth the wait as he turns what might have been a terrific folk song into a full-blown rock classic.
But there were moments, too, when even Watts couldn't quite get the feel for the songs the Stones were trying to create.
In 1969, the band couldn't find the groove for Honky Tonk Women; hardly surprising, really, given it was initially written as a cowboy song. Slightly baffled by their own ambition, producer Jimmy Miller — an accomplished drummer himself — stepped in to help.
Picking up a cowbell he began beating out the rhythm. Watts without hesitation chimed in, creating the bed for Richards' guitar and another classic was born — complete with its shuffling, fractured beat.
AP Photo/Michel Euler, File
)The question remains though: What was it about Watts that allowed him to follow and enhance the tune called by so many talented people around him?
For those who knew him first hand, the key perhaps lay in his own outsider status.
While the rest of the band shagged themselves senseless, dressed like bohemians, all the time looking for the next big trend, there was Watts perfectly dressed, faithful to his wife, listening to the song and always playing what he deemed appropriate. His power was his ability to listen.
As Richards told Rolling Stone in 1981:
"As far as I'm concerned, I'd just say that I'm continually thankful — and more so as we go along — that we have Charlie Watts sittin' there, you know? He's the guy who doesn't believe it [how good he is] because he's like that. There's nothing forced about Charlie, least of all his modesty. It's totally real."
It's a fine epitaph in a world so utterly obsessed with the idea of likes on social media and seeing yourself as a brand. But that, after all, was Charlie Watts.
And whatever you do please don't call him Mick's drummer.
https://news.google.com/__i/rss/rd/articles/CBMicGh0dHBzOi8vd3d3LmFiYy5uZXQuYXUvbmV3cy8yMDIxLTA4LTI1L2hvdy1yb2xsaW5nLXN0b25lcy1kcnVtbWVyLWNoYXJsaWUtd2F0dHMtaGVsZC10aGUtYmFuZC10b2dldGhlci8xMDA0MDU3MzLSAShodHRwczovL2FtcC5hYmMubmV0LmF1L2FydGljbGUvMTAwNDA1NzMy?oc=5
2021-08-25 08:09:15Z
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