Interview: Louie Bellson (Part 1)

I've always loved Louie Bellson's drumming. It's crisp and aggressive—without being noisy or over the top. To my ear, Bellson's sound is thunderous and seductive—a graceful, rolling invitation rather than a sharp military call to arms. To quote Count Basie on Bellson: "He plays so clean, till it sounds to me like he is reading it out of a book. And he can swing."

I spoke with Louie on Thursday by phone about his early band years—from 1941 to 1962—and he shared stories about Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey, Harry James, Duke Ellington and Count Basie. 

This is my favorite period of Bellson's. He had the startling good fortune to play with the most challenging orchestras of the period —leapfrogging from band to band as the genre wound down and competition for seats in those top ensembles heated up among the nation's top sidemen.

While  Bellson isn't as well known a name today as Buddy Rich, that's probably due more to Buddy's tireless knack for self-promotion and rough-guy intensity. Bellson was a bit more laid back but just as intense and popular, especially among jazz greats. He was a lot less angry and combative than Buddy, that's for sure, yet they remained close friends through the decades. That's a testament to Bellson's warm, magical personality.

But from a critical perspective, the big difference for me between the two drumming giants is that Bellson had taste and Buddy didn't. That's not a knock on Buddy. It's just that Buddy often sounded ferociously mechanical, as if it were his last day on earth. While that style can sound exciting at first, I've always found that it gets old fast and exhausts the ear. Buddy left little air or room for the listener.

Bellson, by contrast, always is doing something interesting and subtle with the drums, whether sitting behind bands or a group. Bellson's genius was and is his driving beat—his signature was using two bass drums at once—and the delightful messages he delivered with sticks or brushes on the skins, cymbals and hi-hat.

But let's get back to those bands. Bellson cut his teeth playing with the best of them and at their musical peak—after World War II. This isn't an overstatement. While the bands were indeed dying after the war, the best ones remained and got better.

Bellson's on drums in Benny Goodman's bands of 1942 (at age 18) and 1946 (the Magic Carpet band); he's behind Tommy Dorsey's stunning post-war orchestra of 1947-49 featuring the breakthrough arrangements of Bill Finegan; he then jumps to Harry James' bop band of 1949 (yep, James could bop, and this was his best band, with the breakneck Neal Hefti charts); Bellson leaves for Duke Ellington in the early 1950s (a who's who of sidemen); and then Bellson travels to Sweden in 1962 with Basie's Second Testament band, which recorded a killer live album over there for Roulette.

After Basie, Bellson went on to lead groups and play with every jazz legend, recording more than 200 albums and composing more than 1,000 songs. In 2006, Bellson released The Sacred Music of Louie Bellson, an ambitious Ellington-inspired choral and band work recorded in 2000. (It's available here). A new CD with Clark Terry and Kenny Washington is due soon.

When I spoke with Louie on Thursday we focused on his early band years:

"My father owned a music store when I was growing up in Rock Falls, Illinois. He could play all the instruments, which you had to do when you owned a music store back then. One day, when I was three years old, he took me to a parade. When the drums passed by, I got so excited I told him wanted to learn to play them.

By high school, I was crazy about the drums. I was using a drum kit with two bass drums—one for my left foot and one for my right, which no one was doing at the time.

In 1941, when I was 17 years old, I entered the Singerland National Gene Krupa Drum Contest along with 40,000 other young drummers. After several rounds, at the finals in New York, Gene picked me as the winner. I was knocked out. When Gene gave me the award, he said, “You have a brilliant career ahead of you.” Later, whenever I’d run into him, Gene would say, “See, I told you that you had a big career ahead of you.” Funny guy.

My first big break was with the Ted Fio Rito band. Fio Rito had a bunch of record hits in the 1930s and did a lot of radio work back then. When he came to my home town in early 1942, I sat in with the band. Ted liked me and offered me a job.

But I had three months left of high school and my parents wouldn’t let me leave. Ted said to call him when I finished and he’d give me a job. I thought he was just talking, but after I graduated, I called Ted and he paid for me to come out to California to join the band.

My first paying job for the Fio Rito band was at the Florentine Gardens club in Los Angeles. I remember we shared the bill with the Mills Brothers and I got to hear them every night, which was great. Man, they sounded even better live than on record.

I soon joined Benny’s band in 1942 and again in 1946, after the war. Benny always knew what he wanted to hear and got the band to deliver. I never had any problems with him. I did what he wanted me to do.

Benny was a master at rehearsing. He would rehearse each section of the band individually. First he’d rehearse the saxes. Then the trombones. Then the trumpets. Then he’d rehearse two sections together. It went on for hours—and without the bass, drums or piano.

Benny wanted the sections playing in tempo on their own. He needed them to keep time without relying on the rhythm section. We'd have to sit through the entire rehearsal until Benny would finally add the bass, drums and piano. When he'd rehearse the other sections, he’d look over at us and say, “Now don’t pull a magazine out on me. Listen to what’s going on.”

The sections had to be up on those charts. Otherwise, Benny would give you that ray, that look. The ray was a complete, cold stare. But the ray was often misunderstood by the press. Yeah, Benny would stare when he didn’t like something. But he also had a funny habit of staring while just listening intently to you, to really hear what you were doing. He’d blank out doing that, and many musicians thought it was that ray. It wasn’t.

I remember during a practice session he was staring at me for a long time. I started to wonder what the problem was. Then he snapped out of it, realizing he was staring at me, and smiled. I smiled back.

Tomorrow I'll have Part 2 of my interview with Louie and his reflections on Tommy Dorsey, Harry James, Duke Ellington and Count Basie.

Wax clips: Dig Bellson, age 19, drumming behind Benny Goodman's  Minnie's in the Money from The Gang's All Here, directed by Busby Berkeley (1943). Check the "LB" on the drums above the BG. To see all the other Goodman numbers in this film, with Bellson on  drums, rent The Gang's All Here. The DVD is available at Netflix.

To hear Bellson behind Goodman playing the music for a delightful 1946 Disney cartoon, go here and listen to All the Cats Join In (1946). And go here for a clip from the 1948 film, A Song Is Born. Bellson is playing drums in the background on Stealin' Apples.

Comments

[John Salmon]

Louie is to Buddy as Doc Severinsen is to Maynard Ferguson.

In each case the latter musician has the greater technique (each arguably being the pre-eminent 20th century virtuoso of his instrument, regardless of musical style), was a more important bandleader (musically and historically), and has had more influence, especially or young players.

And MF and BR both had TOURING bands. They did more to preserve the whole idea of big bands as a viable idea than almost anyone else from the mid 60's on-mid 50's for Maynard. What Maria Scheiner, say, does is wonderful, but she doesn't tour. Her contribution, as musically admirable as it is, isn't remotely comparable.

Also, both Maynard and Buddy had the poor taste charge thrown at them, to little effect on either their styles, or the value of their body of work. It's only poor taste if you don't like the playing, of course. In truth, both Doc and Louie's own bands tended towards blandness. I don't say this to argue that all big bands should be fire-eaters-I loved Gerry Mulligan's large groups. But dull is dull.

With the exception of a few albums both BR and MF recorded in the late 70's, very little of each's work under his own name is less than damned good.

Of course, the value of a great sideman, such as Bellson, shouldn't be underestimated.

[John Salmon]

Your comment that Buddy was successful due to self-promotion is just, well, dumb. Last visit here.

[Al]

What a great way to put you foot in your mouth !
To say the Buddy’s playing was mechanical and boring is testament to how stupid and naive you are. Go learn the drums and the entreaties involved then come back and say the Buddy was boring.!!!

[Gene Smith]

I won't "cut" you for your inability to discern drummers. Instead I suggest you listen to Buddy Rich's "Love for Sale" from the "Big Swing Face" record. Over and over if necessary- 3 weeks should suffice. Buddy's 2 bar fill near the end of the piece is the most fantastic thing I have heard in 45 years of playing AND listening. We grew up with turntables that we could spin by hand to see if these riffs were actually superhuman. No doubt-SUPERHUMAN! I saw Buddy perform "Love For Sale" twice. I actually squeaked out that riff once...I didn't, however, hold one hand high and then the other like Buddy did when I saw him play it!!! When I asked him about the fill he told me_ "Throw your sticks in the ocean, and swim after them." I didn't know it at the time-But that was very good advice!
If you want to realize just how strong Buddy's playing was, take a listen to the tribute album(s) where today's top drummers sit in with the band. It is a pathetic sound for anyone who has heard the original group! Even LORD GAD sounds pedestrian on "Love For Sale" and his fill is as exciting as grass growing or paint drying. Steve must have been shaking in his shoes as that solo approached- I'd have left it silent so we could have remembered Buddy's masterpiece. Hell, I'D HAVE TO!
Sure Louie Bellson was a great drummer- And he is respected as a great man also. And Louie would be the first to tell you Buddy was KING. And believe me- most KINGS are very busy!
If you are working on a PC- Throw it in the ocean...
If it's a MAC- SEND IT TO ME!!!

[Ivo]

This whole article is embarrassing. The author is just another Louie Bellson fanboy whos envious about that very self-afirmative individual named Buddy Rich (the one considered by Louie himself as THE BOSS). If you at least would look for Buddy's more than tasty playing with the brushes... He was lightning fast on his solos because he only had some minutes to restate his status as "the world's greatest drummer", but he could play ANYTHING with the upmost taste and technique put together. Louie was a great drummer, but Buddy was simply the best (go ask any of the greatest drummers alive and they should enlighten your fuzzy mind).

[Jim]

Buddy Rich was terrific.

[David]

Bellson had as much technique as anyone, and it was effortless; but he was also a very musical drummer and not just a bombastic show-off. Apologies to the B.R. acolytes. Buddy had his virtues of course, but Louie was one of the greats - Duke Ellington once called him the greatest musician in the world. He could swing a big band like no one else, and was just as good in a small group.