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Bill's new career...

Date: 26.10.2011

At Cascio Interstate Music, New Berlin WI. Bill's on the hard right, half way up...

If you want to know what Bill's up to in his new career, here's an interesting description.


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In the Psychiatrist's Chair

Date: 28.07.2012

Ground-breaking with Earthworks 1987 - L-R Django Bates, Iain Ballamy, Bill, Mick Hutton

The interview below is with Iain Ballamy, jazz musician and co-founder of Earthworks, for his spoof column called ‘In the Psychiatrist’s Chair’ which ran for several years in Jazz UK magazine. This was never printed as the magazine hit hard times, but it seemed worthy of posting on my website on the grounds that it might make you smile!

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Bill Bruford is an interesting case study. Having studied economics (and found it rather boring) he took up the drums and rapidly went on to become a prog-rock legend in the '70s after touring with Yes, Genesis and King Crimson. Bill later answered a calling to his latent musical love - Jazz - and formed a ground-breaking group in 1985 called Earthworks with three budding young British jazz prodigies and a very scary and temperamental electronic drum kit. He toured the globe for a further 23 years before writing his autobiography and hanging up his sticks for what should be a peaceful retirement.

But alas no, something's bothering him........the meaning of life!

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Hello Bill, please make yourself comfy. Last time you were here you were still a man of the road but this time you are back as a student - kindly explain what on earth is going on?

This chair’s a bit threadbare isn’t it? I’m at the Faculty of Arts and Human Sciences at Surrey University doing postgraduate research in musical creativity with particular reference to drummers. I know, I know – shouldn’t take long, then – ha,ha. Actually, it should result in a 70,000 word thesis, and it might take 5 years.

So what has prompted you to probe the depths of your psyche and ask the question most never dare to ask "why do drummers do what they do and what have I spent my life doing?"

What I always liked to try to do when I was a player was make something of a contribution – no matter how tiny – to the understanding of drumming and drummers, what they do, what we expect or want them to do, what might be possible or acceptable tomorrow. I guess you could call me a ‘big-picture’ kinda guy, but you’d have to do so in an American accent. After many years I realised I knew nothing about it, so replaced my sticks with a quill pen and now live in a library. Maybe I’ll find something under the desk that I can share with my colleagues.

Is that question not a little dangerous? We can’t change the past and supposing you are not happy with the answer?

Researchers don’t have to be happy. I’m framing a question, which will generate a thesis, with several hypotheses, which I shall try to prove or disprove, and then I’ll need a pint.

Not unlike Bernard Cribbins in Fawlty towers who "ordered omelette but then I changed my mind" I notice you have changed your mind quite frequently and made some remarkable shifts of direction - from student to rock star, rock star to Jazz icon, Jazz icon to writer and writer back to student. You have come full circle! Are you likely to do the whole thing all over again in a shorter time frame or will you stay retired and contemplate further?

True! Round in a circle, only this time something about not recognising the place I started out from. You’re very perceptive, Doctor. Will flattery get me anywhere? No, thanks, I’m not going round again. How much more of this is there?

Are you a religious man?

Well, I’m a lapsed atheist. I tried, honestly, but I’m just no good at it. I tried shopping on Sundays, but I just couldn’t get into it. If Sunday is a choice between God and shopping, I know which one frightens me the least. I love mythos (and logos), ceremony, ritual, and singing the Anglican songbook, and all in the oldest and most beautiful building in town. The writer Karen Armstrong is very strong on this.

Do you see the separate phases of your life with a sense of continuum or as separate chapters or even separate lives?

I’ve always seen our allotted time here on the planet as straight line but tragically short; over in a flash. So perhaps one of my many faults was to have been in too much of a hurry.

Do you feel a different person now you have stopped being a musician and become a student?

No, much the same old Bruford. My broadband hasn’t got any faster (we live in a Notspot). I rate slow broadband as one of the key agents in the demise of Earthworks. I was unable to buy plane tickets within an acceptable timeframe. My blood pressure is probably lower now. Attending gigs and concerts as a civilian is rough work, though. If the music is any good I want to play. If it isn’t I want to leave. Either makes me a terrible evening out.

What have you learned about yourself and others through music?

I’m very admiring of those musicians who are at peace with their contribution, and able to live with it. I became increasingly riddled with self-doubt, and the maggots of inadequacy. [Is that a good name for a neo-punk outfit – the Maggots of Inadequacy?] For some people - Tim Garland, Gwil Simcock, Asaf Sirkis, to name the last three I’ve seen - the effort becomes effortless, and the music just seems to pour out. Appearances can be deceptive, of course, and underneath the serenity I suspect, like a ducks legs below the waterline, some are paddling very fast.

If you had your time as a bandleader again, is there anything you would do differently?

No, it was brilliant. You hire the best guys you can bribe to play with you, and get a free music lesson a nightly basis. Without exception everyone who went through my two bands Bruford and Earthworks gave of their best with unstinting generosity. I’m getting weepy. Got a tissue?

Can you articulate how you see the scene and orientation of a musician as having changed or is it still the same as it ever was but just in a different age?

Some levels just the same, some levels all different. The age old struggle with wood, gut, drumstick, plectrum and mouthpiece remains intact. It’s going to take you 10,000 hours before you get reasonably good. But the context in which the outcome of that struggle is ‘monetised’ (as we used to say here at Lehman Brothers) is frighteningly different. And this social networking thing has got to stop. Luckily younger, wiser people than I don’t care about any of this. They have a laudable ability to just get on with it.

Drummer jokes apart, is there an innate feeling of inequality with other musicians or is that a thing of the past?

A band is only as good as its drummer, it’s been said. If the drummer’s hopeless, you’re dead in the water. On the other hand, if he’s good, he can get you through a terrible evening. We drummers know that – don’t you?

But yes, after decades of having their contribution denigrated, I think the drum community generally - if I could be so bold as to speak for an entire community - could be forgiven for having developed a small but tangible sense of inferiority. They’ve over-compensated of course by becoming highly proficient and often very successful writers and producers, whether you’re at the Phil Collins, Freddie White, Neil Peart end, or the Gary Husband, Jack DeJohnette, the late Paul Motian or Peter Erskine end. So look out…

Are drummers disenfranchised by computer programming and the all-pervading generic popular music genres which deploy an "ever diminishing selection of beats and tempi" which allow for very little in the way of creativity?

Recent research from Bristol University confirms that popular music is getting louder and more repetitive. What drummers used to do and should do is dynamics, but not much call for that these days. I expect my research to confirm that drummers live in a world of homogenised rhythm despatched within a diminishing number of metres and within a diminishing range of tempi revolving around the celebrated 120 b.p.m. – the default tempo of much electronic kit when it comes out of the box. These are indeed challenging times for the creative drummer living under the tyranny of the backbeat in a commercial world, as I was telling the students at Kingston University the other day. The discourse tends to revolve around “is your hi-hat sample better than mine?”

So is there a revolution around the corner? When and how might that happen?

We could start by banning the words ‘jazz’ and ‘rock’, which cause a whole lot of trouble.

I have never met another musician who retired. Nobody does that through choice, usually a musician dies at the hotel, on stage, or on the road. Has this almost unprecedented and original act made your contemporaries uncomfortable in that you have dared to do something that others wouldn't?

I’m not sure anyone is uncomfortable about anything, least of all me. Retiring, of course, implies that you can afford to do so, and I guess that can attract suspicion. I think too many of us are obliged to continue for financial reasons only, which is a shame. The stadia of the world are clogged with geriatric rockers, who tend to prevent the emergence of young blood. The older guys are effectively institutionalised and now know no other life. If they don’t get a proper hotel and a wake-up call they don’t know what to do. I loved Max Roach’s playing. Someone sent me a CD of his latest music shortly before he died, and it was tragic. I didn’t want to remember him like that. You could see daylight between him and the bass player. I never could see the appeal of dying in a hotel room, is all.

So in 70,000 words time when you have finished your Ph.D. on why you did what you have done with your life, what next? A trout farm perhaps?

I thought I might look at psychiatry.

Bill it's been a pleasure to see you. You are certifiable for sure but I think some very interesting soul searching and research will bear fruit and we look forward to the results with baited breath (whatever that is?)

New King Crimson book in French

Date: 14.06.2012

Further to today's news article about the arrival of the French Edition of Bill's book comes news of a new King Crimson book by noted progressive specialist Aymeric Leroy. French speakers at last have an exhaustive, up-to-date description and assessment of KC foregrounding the music and lyrics. The band's oeuvre is explored chronologically, and has sections devoted to live recordings for each of the main line-ups. The picture above indicates both books will be well received by

Amazon.fr customers.

Archive photo

Date: 01.03.2012

L-R Stu Murray, Bill, Nick Bigsby, Dave Molyneux, Mike Miller. November 1964

Evidence at last that Bill can lay claim to being a real musician, and not "just a drummer"! While the 15-year old Bruford was perhaps not up to the Chris Squire standard, he could hold down a nifty 12-bar blues. Photo taken at Tonbridge School. The group had two drummers, only one of whom could play bass, so in an act of unparalleled generosity, Bill lent his Olympic drum kit to Nick and handled bass duties on this occasion.

'Lighthouse' point the way.

Date: 14.02.2012

Those interested in state of the art acoustic fusion - and Lighthouse may have to forgive me for using the ‘f’ word - need look no further than this highly-skilled UK jazz trio. Comprising two ex-Earthworkers, pianist Gwilym Simcock and bass clarinet /saxophonist Tim Garland, the group is completed with the exciting Israeli-born Asaf Sirkis on drums. Lighthouse is positioned where I would have liked to have positioned Earthworks were the old ship still afloat, and had I the imagination, composing chops and a hang-drum, so there is a strong connection between the two groups on many levels.

One of the most interesting developments in adult rock and jazz has been the movement away from ‘notes’ and towards textures, timbres and treatments (see recent blog on 01.12.2011). Those who eschew that area and deal in the simpler, older acoustic realm of melody and harmony may appear, in relief, somewhat old-fashioned. Before their recent gig at the 606 Club in London’s Chelsea, I was a whisker apprehensive. Was this going to be a note-a-thon? They use a lot of notes, certainly, and some chords you can’t spell, but any concern I may have had in that respect evaporated with the sheer small-room velocity and dynamic hard-ball of the trio.

Their strengths are both compositional and improvisational. The compositions - particularly Garland’s ‘One Morning’ and Simcock’s ‘Barber’s Blues’ - inspired by a Samuel Barber piece he struggled with as a student at the elite Chetham's School of Music in Manchester UK - are beginning to adopt the episodic form of small classical miniatures from which at any minute might leap a fully orchestrated movement for large ensemble. All three are world class improvisors.

It’s not hard to see why Sirkis’ is in much demand in this environment. His kit - mirroring the compositional aspect of the group - abandons much of jazz’ standard legacy. Gone are toms, snare drum and sticks, replaced by three frame drums, hang-drum, bass Udu struck with hands or light egg-whisk beater-like items called Blaststicks or Hot Rods. He’s only got to fall over this instrument to sound different. Sirkis is a master at multi-metre intensity at pianissimo dynamic; his frame-drum sound is exotic and connected to another place and from another time. His touch is light; alternately fire and air. The mellifluous timbre of the hang-drum is exactly the sort of sound I was trying to extract from my reluctant electronic kit two decades ago. His understated support on the Welsh song Tawel Nawr was a master-class in rubato playing.

The absence of bass is a voluntary constraint presumably adopted on musical grounds. My sense was that Simcock, although prodigiously equipped with technical facility to deal with any constraints, felt too often that he had to provide the sort of lower-end support traditionally assigned the bass, to the detriment of a sense of unhurried melodic and harmonic development that he’s so good at when that function is adequately taken care of. Garland’s bass clarinet occasionally stepped in to provide superb growling support, but I’m an old-fashioned guy who loves an old-fashioned bass.

I never write about bands if I can possibly resist putting finger to keyboard. Lighthouse are irresistible. Hunt down their April release on the ACT label - called simply ‘Lighthouse’ - at www.bashorecords.com or one of those Amazon-type places. www.triolighthouse.com

Upcoming in 2012

Date: 19.12.2011

Rick Wakeman's kit - with the maestro hard at work - around the time of the Six Wives of Henry VIII album (see below).

You may have noticed the Guestbook has disappeared. It was drowning in spam, so we’ve had to close it down. Anyway, conversation on all things Bruford seems to have moved ‘offshore’ to my Facebook page, so please feel to contribute over there.

What’s coming up in the New Year? Well, French and Japanese Editions of the autobiography, a new edition of ‘When in Doubt Roll!’ to satisfy the modest but continuing demand in that area, and various ‘talking head’ type TV appearances, such as BBC TV’s ‘British Music in America’ produced by Ben Whalley, and the last show of Metal Evolution hosted by Sam Dunn on VH1 Classics.

We’ll try to give you a heads-up on all the above on the News Page well before it happens.

As we head up to Christmas, Foruli publications tell me that everyone who had pre-ordered one of their Special Editions has had their order despatched. Initial feedback is gratifyingly positive,and you may have seen the great review at All About Jazz.

I’m doing postgraduate research at Surrey University now, which is very time-consuming, so you’ll probably be hearing less from me as the months roll on. Below are the last questions I’m happy to answer outstanding from the old Guestbook. Seasonal best wishes to all, and so many thanks for all your support in 2011! Bill

Al Cooper 2011-12-01 12:55 wants to know “What was the song you wrote and performed with Eddie Jobson by the name of Black (I think) Sunday? Can you help me find it?”

Al, I think you mean ‘Forever Until Sunday’, on the album ‘One of a Kind’ BBWF 004CD. Eddie Jobson played the violin lead on that, although he didn’t write it. He is credited as co-composer on ‘The Sahara of Snow. Pt 2’ on the same album. You can pick it up right here at the shop on this site.

Simon 2011-12-01 13:32 has “always wondered how you were approached to play on The Six Wives of Henry VIII album? How were you asked, what did you think of the music while recording it and what did you think after it was complete? Any thoughts during this time would be great”.

Simon – It’s getting a bit hazy now, because it was a busy exciting time with everyone playing on everyone else’s solo album, so I don’t really remember Rick (Wakeman) asking me. Around that time I did a lot of sessions for people I knew – Howe, Wakeman, Manzanera, Roy Harper - and lots I didn’t know. I would have been probably unaware – or if aware, unconcerned – that the track was part of a suite involving Henry VIII’s wives! I was just trying to do the best session I could.

chester f blaszko 2011-12-01 16:14 thought it worthwhile to “ let you know that my 7 yr old son and 10 yr old daughter are aware of you and the bands you performed with. timeless is not a given attribute in music thus my heartfelt thanks for leaving a splendid trail for many to follow for many years to come...amen!”

Chester – thanks for bringing on the next generation into the music we both seem to have loved!

Adam Garrie 2011-12-08 02:05 was wondering “ if the ability to play with multiple percussionist(s) is dependent in greater measure on the attitudes/versatility of the other percussionists or if it's more dependent on a music genre or specific musical composition to lend itself to a larger number or percussionists”.

Adam – I think the trick to multi-percussion is to know what you’re all doing up there and why you’re doing it. With a big simple beat at western drum circle or African village level, it may be self-evident that you play what everyone else is playing; no special techniques required. Then again, a Tito Puente Afro-cuban percussion section stands or falls on an intricate integration where each small detail goes towards the making of a rich rhythmic picture. With Pat Mastelotto in King Crimson in the 90s, we were a bit lost until I figured out that his was the big-beat that connected the audience to us, and my job was to play around the fringes of it, implying other metres, appearing to be behind it, or within it, or using other complimentary timbres and sounds. I was sort of Elvin Jones to his Ringo Starr, if you like. Both drummers were adopting a game-plan. Once you have that, the rest is simple. Until you know what that is, as a matter of cultural lore (like the Afro-cubans) or a matter of planning, composition and intellect (like King Crimson), it’s going to be rough with several players up there. When you know what it is, everything else will fall into place nicely.