Around two and a half years ago, four friends, all musicians, sat around a kitchen table talking about…
What else:
Music and bands.
One of them, a bassist, suddenly out of the blue said, “Ringo Starr is an incredibly underrated drummer.”
He might as well have dropped a bomb right there on the table, on top of the homemade cookies. “WHAT?” the piano player thundered back. “How is that even possible?
“He’s one of the most famous drummers in the world. He’s all right, but if anything, he’s overrated because he was in the Beatles.”
The bassist countered, “I’m just saying, he does a lot of cool stuff on the drums and doesn’t seem to get the credit for it like the other members”.
And on it went.
As it got louder and more animated, the piano player realized that there was one person at the table who hadn’t gotten a word in edgewise. And he happened to be the only drummer in the room.
It certainly wasn’t because he was quiet or not opinionated that he hadn’t said anything.
It was because he was in the late stages of a battle with throat cancer, and it was difficult for him to speak.
“Gary, you’re the drummer, here. What’s your opinion on Ringo?”, the piano player asked. The room got quiet, as the three awaited his response. “Above average”, he stated in a raspy whisper. Nothing much else was said on the topic after that. His was the final word.
So, yes, I was the piano player in that story.
I’ve come around a bit on Ringo since then:
…After watching some early live footage of him playing a backbeat that was really tight, and had a raw energy that seemed to be fueling the whole band.
The four of us who sat at that kitchen table had been playing together regularly for a few years at a Saturday evening church service. The bassist, guitarist, and I had come over for a visit, since Gary could no longer play in church with us.
As we were leaving that night, his longtime partner, Lynn, shared with us how much it meant to Gary to be able to just sit around the table with friends, talking about music or whatever.
As his treatments increased, and more complications developed, it was hard for him to leave the house. The things we take for granted to him were precious.
The four of us got together one more time for a jam session in Gary’s basement.
Despite everything going on, he could still play the drums perfectly fine. It was a joy to see him behind the drum set again, and to me, he had never sounded better. I think we all felt that way.
That would be the last time we would play with him. I always found it fitting that we were rocking out and just having a good time.
Recently, I was over at the house that Lynn and Gary had shared, looking through Gary’s expansive record collection.
When I entered the basement, there were still remnants from when we had all played together over two years prior. There was a music stand:
With a sheet of paper that had hastily scrawled chord changes on it, in my handwriting.
The electric drum kit was still turned on.
Lynn hadn’t wanted to mess with any of the musical equipment in the room.
It was eerie – and also pretty cool that everything had been left mostly untouched since that final jam session.
I reached over and turned off the drum kit.
As I watched the little red light go out, it felt almost ceremonial:
Like one more chance to say:
“Farewell, friend…
“And rock on.”
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Aw, man, this is beautifully heartbreaking. Rock on, indeed.
And Ringo was proof positive that you don’t have to be flashy to make a song better. His simple parts, like in “Ticket To Ride,” are elegant and no one else would’ve come up with them.
Thanks, v-dog!
RB, I’m all choked up. Lovely writing.
Lovingly written, a fine tribute.
I think part of the reason for the shade thrown at Ringo is his character. The Beatles films play him for laughs, its his point of difference when compared against three of popular music’s greatest songwriters. 60s Ringo can seem an amiable clown and later period Ringo isn’t always easy to take seriously.
Which can detract from his drumming day job. He didn’t write the songs he was still an integral part of what made The Beatles so appealing, both in his drumming and as a person.
This is a sad story.
I haven’t listened to much of Pete Best with or without the Beatles and I am not a drum expert, but even I can tell that Ringo Starr was substantially superior to what I have heard from Best.
I did try the drums a bit back in my teens and early 20s. I wish I was as good as Pete Best. Drum machines were becoming more affordable in those days and I was better at practically everything else, so my drumming days were short lived.
Ringo was the least pretentious Beatle, and absolutely my favorite person in the group. He certainly wasn’t a flashy drummer. Below average technically, I’d guess. But that’s not the only measure of a good drummer. He certainly was perfect for the group, and I can’t imagine the Beatles any other way.
I love that video of “Boys”. I feel kinda dumb that I never realized that Ringo sometimes sang lead while he drummed.
But most of all, thanks for the message about your friend, rollerboogie.
Beautiful story. And I’m in the “Ringo is underrated” club.
Lovely story – thank you.
As I understand it, Ringo was a human drum machine – nothing flashy, but he was almost never the reason a take was blown. Dude just played it tight and consistently – kid of what you look for in a drummer, right?