KRUPA/PRESLEY: Parallels in Brilliance
by: robertde
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Date: Wed, 1 Jun 2011 Time: 9:12 AM
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By Robert DePaolo
Two events, each occurring in a span of no more than fifteen minutes, can be said to have shaped the course of America’s musical history; Gene Krupa’s 1927 recording session at Okeh Records and Elvis Presley’s 1954 recording session at Sun Records. The events were separated by almost thirty years and involved two individuals born and raised in disparate times and living in vastly different cultures. For that reason, the comparison might strike the reader as something of a “stretch.” After all, Gene Krupa started out with Dixieland bands before evolving into a jazz/swing drummer. He was a northerner out of Chicago. He was a product of an ultra patriotic America that trusted its leaders and had only one remotely rebellions concern – Prohibition. While many of America’s youth had jobs during his time most of their income went to help support the family.
Elvis started out singing show tunes, standards and gospel before stumbling upon rock n roll. He was a southern boy out of Memphis by way of Tupelo, Mississippi and came along when a newly emerging horde of pre-teenagers were rising up. They harbored a general skepticism toward their nation (initially expressed through mild mannered sarcasm, later driven by anger and protest). They had money to spend and an existential axe to grind vis a vis. staid American society.
Yet the two men had much in common. Gene Krupa was noted for his combed back (pre-duck tailed) raven hair. Elvis sported the same raven hair color (which he dyed – he was actually blond) and style. Both cultivated a certain look: Elvis with his lip-curl sneer, Gene with his gum chewing and maniacal facial expressions.
The similarities don’t end there. Krupa was quite comfortable acknowledging and incorporating the influence of black musicians into his repertoire via the percussive styles of Baby Dodds, Zutty Singleton and Chick Webb. Elvis did the same through the music of Arthur Crudup, Ivory Joe Hunter and Fats Domino. Both men understood that rhythm was the highest rung on the ladder of artistic impact, that in order to elevate music from a listening to a feeling experience required the driving force of emphatic, unabashed percussion. Gene used his hands and feet. Elvis used his voice and his entire body.
They shared other traits. It is often the case that artistic inspiration is driven by a Freudian conflict whereby an intense clash between the id and superego spills over onto the street like a barroom brawl, creating widespread, unintended consequences. Gene Krupa was most attracted to what he called “righteous music”. By this he meant… thumping, bohemian, up-tempo and even a bit lurid. Yet he was a very religious man at heart who enrolled in a seminary in his youth.
Elvis was also torn between his Christian up-bringing and his role as exponent of what was then called “the devil’s music.” Both spent their frequently tumultuous lives trying to choose between the calling of faith and the call of the jungle.
Each had a seminal career moment in which their styles and implicit musical theses were subject to scrutiny by those in the mainstream. Elvis’ moment came with his appearance on the Ed Sullivan show. His usual performances included frenetic hip and leg movements. Some of this was in jest – for example he would grab his leg as if to restrain an appendage with a “life of its own.” Mostly it was genuine. Elvis needed to move, to communicate with both voice and body in order to ground himself firmly enough to connect with the audience.
Sullivan was aware of that and as everyone knows by now, he insisted that the film crew shoot Elvis only above the waist. Sullivan’s ploy backfired. The live audience saw the whole thing and loved it and the fact that Elvis was both willing to go along with Sullivan’s request (modest fellow that he was) yet still be true to himself made him an even more endearing figure. He became somehow both taboo and respectable. America approved.
Krupa’s moment came in a famous concert with Benny Goodman’s band at Carnegie Hall. Tuxedo clad aristocrats with traditional musical tastes sat there waiting to hear what this new “swing band” – with their madcap genius drummer would play on this staid evening. The concert began with a tame rendition of Don’t Be That Way. Moments later the band cut into Sing, Sing. Sing – it would become the very first recording to include a drum solo.
The number began with Krupa playing four bars of an African rhythm on the large tom, featuring even-break accents and varied tonality. For a moment the crowd was in shock but soon human nature overcame the trappings of formality. With each Krupa foray they found themselves tapping their feet uncontrollably, temporarily transported from the hallowed halls of Wall Street to the heart of the Congo by way of South Side Chicago. The audience gave a standing ovation and both Goodman and Krupa knew they had completed the ultimate musical conquest.
Both Elvis and Gene were given nicknames apropos their role as time keepers of America’s increasingly fast-paced society. Krupa was the “The Chicago Flash,” Elvis, “The Hillbilly Cat.” Despite such trite labels both were innovators, particularly Krupa, who virtually invented modern drumming and for that matter modern drums. His use of the bass drum on recordings, invention of the rim shot to clarify accents and enhance tonality on the snare, and his co-development with the Slingerland company of tunable tom-toms (whereby the heads could be tightened and loosened rather than being tacked on, as had previously been the case) were original and brilliant conceptions. It is not surprising that Buddy Rich, perhaps the greatest drummer in history and Gene’s dear friend, referred to Krupa as a “genius and one of the most important figures in the history of jazz.”
Interestingly, both Elvis and Krupa were criticized for co-opting black musical styles but this came primarily from arguably misinformed critics. Even black musicians recognized the innovative contributions of both men and admitted to being influenced by them as well as vice versa. Drummer Max Roach described Krupa as “a beautiful cat and a great man who not only borrowed from black drummers but influenced what they did.” Meanwhile Jackie Wilson challenged the idea that Elvis’ style was a rehash of black-influenced gospel and R&B. Wilson asserted that in fact many black rock and roll artists incorporated Elvis’ mannerisms and singing style into their performances. In any event the proof is in the pudding. Presley increased the tempo of the old blues standards and displayed quite different vocal intonations. Since, as some have said, prototype rock n roll was really just R&B played at a fast tempo then all rock n roll artists (black and white) can be said to have borrowed from the old blues giants.
Elvis did with genres what Krupa did with the “traps” – a term used to describe the more elaborate “trappings” included in the post-Krupa drum kit. He could rock or sing gospel in the most compelling manner. He could communicate in a sincere, moral tone, beseeching the listener to keep the faith, or he could knock their socks off with tunes about jail-house jam sessions. His marvelously pan-adaptive voice conveyed deep feeling regardless of the genre. These gifts made Elvis, like Krupa a singularly important figure in the history of American music.
With regard to those two seminal recording sessions, it is interesting to note that the Krupa and Presley ventures into the creative unknown began under very similar circumstances…to wit
1927: Gene Krupa was then playing with the Eddie Condon group. The band was setting up for a recording session in the Okeh Records studio. Krupa began to assemble his drum kit, which to band mate Mezz Mezzrow seemed a bit excessive. The owner of Okeh, a man named Rockwell, took one look at Krupa’s elaborate array of cymbals. bass drum and tom-toms and held up his hand.
“Wait a minute, man, what are you doing? Play all those drums and you’ll knock the needle off the recorder. Our policy is snare drum and high hat only. ”
Krupa begged him to go along and Rockwell reluctantly agreed. They played out. Rockwell then listened to the recording and realized he’d struck gold. In that moment new ground was broken. America was about to pick up the pace, led by a magical purveyor of dotted eighth note paradiddles, exhilarating single stroke rolls, haunting rim shot accents, exquisite tom-tom work and drum boogie-esque exhibitions of percussive story-telling. Rockwell realized that a percussive influence was going to turn America on its head and that the supportive role of the drummer would soon change. He also envisioned a new entertainment scenario. In the past audiences danced from the beginning to the end of a song. Typically the bandleader counted out the time signature followed perhaps by a clarinet intro. Partners held one another until the song ended, followed by polite applause.
Gene Krupa altered the protocol with the advent of the drum solo. Dancers still held each other but somewhere along the line they found themselves compelled to stop, watch and listen as the mesmeric grip of the Ace Drummer-Man lifted them above the dance floor. The girls felt uncharacteristically liberated in body and mind during those solos. The boys dreamed of saving enough money to buy a set of drums. Polite applause turned to joyful hysteria.
Eventually bandleaders had no choice but to put drummers like Krupa, Chick Webb, Sid Catlett and Buddy Rich up front. The beat, so long relegated to the role of predictable, robotic metronome, reared its exhilarating head. It heralded a new kind of existential freedom because during those four minutes – during that song - kids could not only dance, they could swing. It enabled Americans to feel as well as hear the music.
1954: Elvis was recording at Sun Records. After belting out a few country and western numbers - none of which done particularly well - the band took a break. In a whimsical moment Elvis began fooling around, by whizzing through a frenzied version of Crudups’s That’s all Right Mama. There was some concern within the band. It was deemed too raunchy - too much like race music. Sam Phillips recorded the song in any event, had a listen and in that moment realized he’d struck gold. Up to then Phillips had been a marginal figure in the music business with such a tiny storefront studio that he had to use a restaurant next door to conduct business matters. Yet he sensed the magnitude of the moment, realizing that a sleeping giant had been awakened and that new ground, artistically, ergonomically and socio-politically was about to be broken. He understood that just as occurred in the transformation from the horse and buggy to the automobile, America was about to shift gears and embark on an even faster, livelier journey through history.
Some argued that the music played by these men and the style in which they played it constituted an immoral deviation. On the other hand it lifted people’s spirits and overrode whatever despondency typified their lives – at least for a while. It inspired countless young musicians, enhanced communal connections by giving like-minded people something to talk and think about. Such effects can never be viewed as immoral. Indeed it could be argued that despite their raucous innovations the two men became focal points for a new spiritual revival.
REFERENCES
Klauber, B (1990) World of Gene Krupa: That Legendary Drummin’ Man. Pathfinder Publishing
Torme, M. (1992) Traps The Drum Wonder: The Life of Buddy Rich. Oxford University Press
Rheingold, T. (1992) Dispelling The Myths: An Analysis of American Attitudes and Prejudices. Believe in the Dream Publications
Walser, R. (1998) The Rock and Roll Era. The Cambridge History of American Music. Cambridge University Press
Bertrand, M.T. (2000) Race, Rock and Elvis. University of Illinois Press
About the Author
Robert DePaolo. MS Clinical and Neuropsychology. Professional Drummer, president of Film making company Media Milestones
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