Richard Pite has been working as Boisdale’s
Director of Music since we first opened our doors 25 years ago. He talks to
Jonathan Wingate about his favourite jazz artists, why he is more than happy to
be known as ‘the bastard love child of Ringo Starr and Gene Krupa,’ and why he finally decided to release his debut album
at the age of 57.
Richard Pite on drums
Was jazz your thing from the start, or did you
originally set out to play other musical genres as well?
I originally got interested in jazz because I had a
good friend who played tuba in vintage jazz bands and he seemed to have an
enormous amount of fun playing. When I was a teenager I developed a parallel
admiration for early jazz as well as contemporary pop and rock. My dad bought
me my first pop albums, Dance With The Shadows and A Hard Day’s Night 50 years
ago, and I still love them.
Hard Days Night Poster
You specialize in jazz music from the 20s, 30s and
40s. Do your tastes extend beyond that period?
I do love the jazz of the 20s, 30s and 40s more
than anything else. Philip Larkin – the best British poet of the 20th
Century – and I agreed on the difference between music of this period and all
the later stuff. The former has joie de vivre and peps you up, and although
some of the later stuff does that too, you have to search for it a little
harder.
You have studied the techniques of the early jazz
drummers in almost forensic detail. How important is it to play in an authentic
way?
It’s very important to me, but it depends on what
you want to do with the earlier styles. If you are re-interpreting it with a
contemporary twist, that’s fine, but if you’re saying this is how the music
sounded if you went to a club on the South side of Chicago in 1932, it behoves
you to get it right. You have to put that ride cymbal back in the bag, get
rid of the hi-hat and kill the Vinnie Colaiuta licks.
Which drummers would you say have influenced you
the most in terms of playing style, and what makes each of them unique?
Pete Long once called me ‘the bastard love child of
Ringo Starr and Gene Krupa,’ and I can’t think of a nicer compliment. On
stage Ringo looked like he had the best job in the world, whilst Charlie Watts
looked like he’d rather be at home making a battleship out of matchsticks. I can do a pretty good Gene Krupa, but I can’t get
near my other idol, Buddy Rich, who was superhuman. Nobody comes close to
him – he was the fastest, most exciting, most musical…the most most. There are
drummers today who do tributes to him, but I wouldn’t dare. I can pull the
same faces he did but none of his licks and tricks.
Who would you like to have played with, if you
could go back in time?
I would have liked the drum chair in the CountBasie Band from 1950 – when he put his big band together again – up until when
he died in 1984. Basie’s music puts a smile on your face and should ideally be
listened to in a Cadillac with the roof down, and if possible, with a blonde in
the passenger seat. Harold Land (currently playing with Tony Bennett)
was fantastic, but Sonny Payne was undoubtedly my favourite Basie drummer,
mainly because he was a showman. I love showmen – they’re increasingly rare in
the po-faced world of modern jazz.
If pressed and you had to pick five jazz albums
everyone should listen to, what would they be?
Jim Mullen Quartet – String Theory
Miles Davis – Kind Of Blue
Miles Davis and Gil Evans – Miles Ahead
Richard Pite – Now We Are 57
Talking of which, we have to ask – why did it take
you this long to get around to recording your debut album?
I just fancied doing an album under my own name and
I thought John Colianni, Philip Achille and Jim Mullen were a fine bunch of
chaps to tag along with. I had a few quid in the bank and was in no rush to
make my money back, so if it took 10 years to get rid of the first pressing
that was fine. So, voila, my vanity project was born.
Tell us your favourite jazz joke.
It’s not a joke, but a great story about my
grandma. When I was playing in a youth orchestra at the Royal Festival Hall in
the mid-70s, my parents took my gran (who was in her 80s) to the concert, where
I was battling through Holst’s The Planets. After the show we stopped off at a
fish and chip shop before dropping her home. The following day I asked her
whether she had enjoyed the concert, to which she replied: ‘Oh yes, it was a
lovely piece of fish.’
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