
The late 60s / early 70s were the heyday of the rock & roll drum solo. Virtuosos like John Bonham (Led Zeppelin), Keith Moon (The Who), and Ginger Baker (Cream) were allowed to display their talented unaccompanied, outside the setting of a song. This is in contrast to jazz drum solos which are primarily found within the confines of a song and are usually accompanied by bass and maybe a piano or guitar. By the late 80s (the time I started attending rock concerts) the drum solo had become a joke. Every joker with a can of Aqua Net and a pair of spandex pants was allowed to have a drum solo. While a select few (Alex Van Halen of Van Halen or Neil Peart of Rush) may have had the chops, the majority of drummers just hit as many different drums as quickly as possible and called it a solo. No one needs to hear a solo from the drummer of a Skid Row or a Warrant or a Poison. This portion of the show evolved into a sort of intermission where the audience would use the bathroom and get another beer and the remainder of the band would go backstage to do some more drugs. Why have I gone on this wild tangent? Because this history colored my perception of the first percussion recital I ever attended. I did not care for the timpani pieces. If I hadn’t seen the performers reading music I would’ve sworn they were making it up on the spot. Most the most part I didn’t care for any of the non-tonal stuff. One exception was “Flamingo”, the tambourine duet which I thought was fun. However when I heard it backstage the following night, it wasn’t as exciting not being able to witness the choreography. I enjoyed the “Toccata in D Minor”. It was familiar, I think normally played on organ? By far my favorite pieces were George Hamilton Green’s “Xylophone Rags”.






