Bernard Purdie

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

OK, introduction to the metronome.

(music: Galt MacDermot – “Come Away Death”)

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

And that, ladies and gentleman, is Bernard “Pretty” Purdie. [applause]

David Nerattini

So the man is so big, so huge that he needed two guys to interview him! One wasn’t enough!

Bernard Purdie

I like it.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

You guys heard the feel on that track that’s impeccable rhythm. This is the guy who created drum beats that are so famous that we can’t even begin to list them all — in all walks of music, from jazz to funk to hip-hop to drum & bass, it’s Bernard Purdie that we’re going to talk to this evening and everyone, I’m sure, has had the chance to speak to him already and catch a little bit of that “Pretty Purdie” vibe.

Bernard Purdie

I like it, I like it.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

So, that was a track by Galt MacDermot, who did the musical Hair. I’m sure you all know Hair, “Let The Sunshine In,” “Age of Aquarius,” and all that. Galt and Bernard have known each other for what? Forty years?

Bernard Purdie

Forty?

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Forty something years and I’ve often asked Galt, who as you know has used an amazing amount of drummers in his time, “Why Bernard Purdie for forty years? I mean, there has to be some reason?” And his answer is always so simple. “Bernard knows how to do what I want him to do.” Which is kind of an understatement. Bernard knows how to do, of course, what everybody wants. It’s something he’s been better at that perhaps every drummer in history. It’s what you do, you find out what a person wants and you give it to them.

Bernard Purdie

Well, I sure do try and I’m glad to hear that somebody else says that, that’s nice. Don’t stop now, I’m enjoying this.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

The signs that he used to carry around “Pretty Purdie, The Hit Maker,” they didn’t lie. You’re responsible for hit after hit.

David Nerattini

Did you really go to the studio and put the sign up?

Bernard Purdie

Oh, yes. Once the signs went up, I was ready to perform. It’s that simple. We all have our gimmicks for what we do, and it wasn’t even my idea in the first place. It was the bass player that I was working with for a few years, his name was Jimmy Tyrell. And he said, “You know, you should make up this sign...” “Yeah, yeah...” Two years he stayed on me, and then one day I looked across the street and there was a sign maker right next to my cleaners. I never knew it was there. I’d been to this place for two years and never knew this sign maker was there. So I go in there and say, “Listen, I want to make up a sign,” and he says, “OK.” I say, “The Hitmaker,” and he says, “Well, what’s that for?” I said, “Music, I’m in music.” “OK, alright,” he says. So I start making a few quotes, like, “Call me, if you need me — the hitmaker,” and I was telling him about some of the records that I’d actually been on, and I didn’t realize that I was telling him just that. So I left, and two days later, the guy came looking for me. “Hey! Hey you! I got those signs you wanted!” I’m like, “Signs? Oh yeah!” So I go inside and he had made up four signs. In color. Red, yellow, green — they were all in different colors, colors going all different ways, and I loved every last one of them. “Call me, if you need me,” “If you need me, call me — The Little Hitmaker,” “Call me — The Hitmaker,” “If you need me...,” then he put a smile on the bottom of that one, didn’t say call me... and I say, “Oh, you didn’t put the telephone?” and he said, “Noooo, you hand them a card. Yes, that way you don’t give away everything at once.” And sure enough it worked ’cause by this time I’d already made a couple of hit records, which was “Just One Look” by Doris Troy, and... let’s see, at that time I’m thinking about Les Cooper “Wiggle Wobble” and we had a couple of other things we were working on at that time. Hmmm, with Curtis, with the Isley Brothers “It’s Your Thing” and a few others.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

OK, take us back to Elkton, Maryland, where as a young man — he was filling us in over breakfast this morning — you are the consummate businessman. We all know this. But you got your start at a young age. You were a businessman by age ten.

Bernard Purdie

Well, yes, I guess I was. I didn’t realize I was a businessman at that time, by the time I reached age ten, I had about twenty guys working for me.

David Nerattini

Like a gang?

Bernard Purdie

No, well, the thing is with young kids, you give them a job to do. One of the jobs was putting out circulars and they’d go and put a couple of circulars out on one block, maybe two blocks, and the rest would go in the garbage, or not even in the garbage, they’d put them down in the sewer so you really couldn’t find it. Well, the thing for me was that I had my little motor scooter when I was ten, so 50 cents a day was a lot of money to give to someone to be handing out some circulars. I mean, it was a lot of money, period, anyhow, and that’s going back to the ’40s. It was tight with money. But I used to go around and make sure they didn’t throw my circulars away, and that’s how I got started with so many different people making deliveries.

I used to take the circulars and then bring somebody to within a few blocks, go get someone else, take them to another area go and check, and then by the time I’d picked up two or three different people, I’d go back to the first one to make sure he was still putting circulars around. I got good at it, and people used to call me and say, “We’ve got 5,000 circulars,” and I’d be like, “Why so many?” And they say, “Well, we know that you can do ’em,” and I’d say, “Well, you know I’ve got a lot of guys working and I’ve really got to pay them.” So it was $10 per thousand. They offered me three in the beginning, and then by the time we finished it was $10, so that was $50 and so I’d end up with maybe $35, possibly $40 myself, because I had ten or fifteen guys at 50 cents each. It was a lot of money, but I had a whole lot of folks to feed, there were fifteen of us in the family.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Now, one of the best stories you told us was actually working with one of your first music teachers.

Bernard Purdie

Oh, yes.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

What was his name?

Bernard Purdie

Mr. Leonard Hayward was my music teacher and he was in the Clive Bessex Orchestra.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

And what instrument did he start you playing?

Bernard Purdie

[sobbing] He wouldn’t let me play the drums, he had me play the trumpet.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

The trumpet?

Bernard Purdie

Yeah, that was the worst thing in the world that you can get somebody to do.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

What did you play after the trumpet?

Bernard Purdie

Well, after the trumpet, he had me play the flute. I went from the sublime to the ridiculous. [laughter] He wouldn’t let me play the drums and I didn’t understand this. Then, one day one of the guys said, “He wants you to learn music, dummy.” I said, “Yeah, I knew that. ’Course I knew that, this is the way you do it.” Boy, I was really dumb, but it worked. I learned how to play the notes, and when you hear notes you play the rhythms, patterns. All horn players play patterns. Big band, you play patterns. Also, what happened for me, instead of trying to give me a drum chart, because most of the time they didn’t even have a drum chart, I would take the horn chart and use that to follow where the music was going and it was the easiest thing in the world for me, ’cause I’m an ex-trumpet player.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Now, this job you had with Leonard Hayward at a young age again, twelve or thirteen, was holding his drinks for him, or something like this?

Bernard Purdie

Why does he have to bring out all the good stuff? Ah, my teacher liked to drink, and everyone was always watching him to make sure that he never got any alcohol when the gig was going along. So he’d bring me along to make sure he didn’t drink anything, stuff like that, and I’d have to walk around with this big tall glass of water – “I got your water Mr. Hayward, I got it!” Only the big tall glass of water was filled with either vodka or gin. So every time after one or two songs, he’d need a drink of water, and I’d be standing there. [holds up glass]

By the time of the first break — ’cause it was always two hours long that we’d have to play — Mr. Hayward would have to go out to the station wagon and fall right to sleep. And I’d go inside and sit at the drums and I’d have to finish the gig. They had no idea where he got the drink from, and I would finish the gig with the big band with 14-piece orchestra, and when the gig was over pack up the drums, put ’em in, and then drive him home. No problem. The police all knew me, we were very close to the sheriffs, because my grandfather liked to make alcohol, booze, wine. Good wine. We were not called moonshiners, we just made a bit of wine, that you put under the bed and keep for twenty years. Our stuff was good stuff.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

What did you study when you went to Morgan State for college?

Bernard Purdie

Well, I got in on a scholarship. They told me I couldn’t study music, so I had to study business. So, the only way for me to do what I had to do was to take the business course in order to pass and to keep the scholarship going, and that’s what I did. On the side I could join the bands and be a sub, or try and play in the small bands or something that was around. Of course, they all knew that I was a very, very, very, very good drummer, so they would sneak me in to learn the charts, and if someone happened to get sick, or fall down, break an arm or a foot or a leg or something, I was always available. Don’t get me wrong, I never went out to hurt anybody. Not me, I would never touch anybody, break no arms or fingers, or make anybody sick. I was just around, I was always around, and it worked. I have to say it worked.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

How did you end up in New York City?

Bernard Purdie

That was the funny part. After two years of being in Morgan State, I had a reputation, I had a band going and the guys wanted to go to New York. I said, “Dummies, you can’t just go to New York and get a gig or hope that someone’ll see us. You have to know somebody.” And they said, “Yeah, yeah. OK, we’re going.” So Sunday night comes, we pack up the band and pack up everybody into this Cadillac, and we go to 156th Street on Washington Avenue. Get out and there’s a little club right there called the Comet Club. It was the guitar player’s uncle who worked for the people who owned the club. So we got a chance to play in the club, and around the corner, three blocks up, was another club called the Blue Maracas, which was owned by Sylvia of Mickey & Sylvia – “Love Is Strange,” y’all remember hearing that song? Well, they came down to see the band. Basically, they came down to see me, but they came down to see the band on Thursday night. They took a liking to me, told me, “We wanna record you on Sunday, from 12 ’til 4.” The first song we do is “Love Is Strange” – they’re doing a remake, because it’s now going to be on their own label. Now, this was already a hit in 1954 or ’55. They did this again on their label and we did it even better than what it was. They paid me $80 for four hours work. I was filthy rich! That night I go to the club, I buy everybody drinks that night. The money I got paid, that day, the next day, Tuesday comes and I’ve got $2 left in my pocket, and I’m thinking, “Where did the money go? I don’t drink, where did the money go?” And everybody’s like, “Yeah, yeah. You talk about you were rich, now where are you?” And I said, “But I want to stay in New York, I like it.” So, I got me a job the very next day, that Wednesday in the laundry and because of it they gave me $20 more, so I could stay, get myself together, get myself a little apartment, and from there we went on, and I started doing demos and whatever else I could do for anybody.

David Nerattini

Was it difficult getting used to the studio because you were used to being a live drummer? Was it different?

Bernard Purdie

Well, I hate to say this but my approach was really, really quite simple. We did a lot of begging. “Can I have a job? Can I have a job? I can do it, I can do it, I’m good, I’m really good, I can play anything, I can do anything, anytime, anyplace anywhere, I can do it. I’m very good, just give me a chance, just give me a shot! Give me a shot!” That’s what I did for months, until they got tired of me and seeing me coming, and finally someone would let me sit in and play. But I did a lot of begging. Didn’t bother me, never did, still doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind begging for work. But the point was, for me, I was told this was how you get the job done – you’ve got to go and get it, whatever it takes, so I did a lot of begging. Go down on Broadway, 7 or 8 in the morning, get your breakfast, have your energy and go up to everybody you know that’s a musician and ask them to give you a shot. That’s what I did for months. I’m still doing that today, it’s turned out to be years. That alone happened for me and for everyone that I wanted to work with and play with. I didn’t know that all of them were stars, because the one thing I did do was learn my craft. I learned it early and I knew that I could play the drums. I knew that I could write the music if I had to, I could arrange the music, I could produce it if I had to. I learned whatever had to be done for my craft, and I was proud of that. I’ve never ever stopped begging. I’m begging today. I love what I do, and I want you to hear what I do at all costs. I believe in it.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

You knew a lot of producers in New York by the mid-’60s, including the jazz musician Wayne Shorter’s brother Rick, and through people like him, you were introduced to people like Galt MacDermot. Now, the reason I bring up Galt again is because in the mid-’60s when rhythm was changing in America – we talked about this with James Brown and David Matthews and all of that – the idea of crediting all the session musicians on a record wasn’t an accepted idea. Matter of fact, most times no one was credited. But in 1966 you recorded with Galt MacDermot, a record which was made because Galt himself as a sessioner was tired of just making demos. He and his session friends were going to make a record and there was going to be biographical information on the back of it, and for the first time in history that I can find there is a paragraph on Bernard Purdie and how indomitable he is on the drums. So he does a song called “Coffee Cold” in 1966, which I wish I could play you. But it is the basis of the funk rhythm, that is what Bernard Purdie is going to do for each person, their mother and their uncle. And for the first time, Bernard Purdie is on the back of a record credited for this. It killed me because I went and tried to find earlier examples because I know they are out there, but they are lost to the sands of time, so to speak. Can we talk about that change in rhythm that you helped usher in and then mastered? Because most people agree that when it comes to the vein of drumming, especially R&B and funk and soul and all of that, as Wilbur Bascomb says, “Purdie has been, is and will always be the man.”

Bernard Purdie

[stomping his feet] Thank you, Wilbur!

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Let’s talk about this change in popular rhythm.

Bernard Purdie

Well, you know it is a wonderful feeling, first of all, that history itself tends to give you an idea of what is going on. All you have to do is follow the trend of anything that you see, you hear and you end up doing. Young people have always, no matter who it is, wanted to experiment or to find something different. I was not different than anyone else. Because I knew music, I was always experimenting. I was told at a young age that I was Father Time. I didn’t know what that meant, but I understood much later that time and rhythm go together. They are two different entities, but they go together, they become one. My experimenting happened long before Galt’s thing happened because I was doing demos for all of these different artists that were stars. I didn’t know that they were stars, all I knew is they were on their way up and doing what they were doing. I was always trying to experiment with rhythms. Each time that I do something, I listen to everybody that was in the band, hear everything that they had to say and then I answered it. I believe in that, let everybody speak and then pull it together – which, as far as I’m concerned, is the drummer’s job. You take everything that you hear and you pull it together to make it work, and counter rhythms and counter melodies work every time.

As an arranger – because this is something that I was taught early – if you are going to write a part out and you look at your hands and fingers and all, [makes an open gesture with his hands] and everything is separate. But yet, if you put them together and you close them, you can either stop at one point or you can lock it in. [locks his fingers together and claps his hands] That is all you do with rhythms: you lock a rhythm in and see how it works and how it doesn’t. By the time I was recording with Galt, I had been already playing with James Brown, I had been playing with Ray Charles, I had made many, many hit records that were demos. By this time, I had played with Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, Richie Havens, you name it. I was doing every kind of music there was to be done. So when Galt came along, I was ready for him. I didn’t believe that this man knew what he had with “Coffee Cold,” or “African Waltz.” I couldn’t believe this man was writing this kind of music because this was African jungle music. This little scrawny guy standing here, “What do you know about African music?” If I had asked, I would have found out he lived in Africa for 10-15 years. But of course, the big dummy here, don’t ask and I figured he didn’t really understand the rhythms, the intricate rhythms that he was playing even on the piano, playing in between the beats and the melody on top was also in between the beats, but this [makes wavy motion with hands]. Oh, so smooth. My job is to keep that going and then lock it in. Half the time I would tell the bass player, because at that time I had a big mouth and I couldn’t keep it closed. It got me into trouble, many times. I didn’t mean anything, any harm by it, but if he wasn’t playing a rhythm that I thought he shouldn’t be playing, then I had something to say about it. It wasn’t my job, but I just had a big mouth and it was that simple.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

By the late ’60s, your name starts appearing on the back of a lot of records and it starts getting a lot easier to figure out which records you are on at a glance. Not by just listening. You are actually offered a record deal because of your work with Peaches & Herb. You did a record for the Date company, and I think we should play a cut from it just so people can understand this rhythms that you’re talking about, this grounding you are talking about, at a time when the bass player could bow out as frequently as he wanted to because you were going to do your thing, whether he wanted you to or not.

Bernard Purdie

[laughs] Well, I guess that was part of my big mouth.

(music: Bernard Purdie – “Soul Drums” / applause)

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

You know another thing that Bad Bascomb said about you, he said, “The Naval Observatory could set their time from Purdie.” That’s a classic of every genre. Man, I mean talk about returning to the one. It never leaves you, no matter where you go, you are always in the pocket. You’ve got to talk to us about that, man.

Bernard Purdie

Well, that was my teacher. The one thing that I learned from him: no matter what you do, you must always know where one is. In order to do that, what you need to do is count. It is really that simple. You must learn how to count. So you never leave where everything is time-wise. The time itself is the money, this is how you make a groove happen, because you keep people with you. And as long as you keep people with you, then you’ll be in the right time, the right frame of mind and everything. It’s the one. Remember the one. Any rhythm that you want, any counter-rhythm that you want, they all fall into the pocket and it is always about the pocket. Count the one. All musicians are supposed to do their own counting, but for drummers it is something that you have to do. If you want to keep the peace in the band, you have to count.

Audience Member

How were the drums recorded in the 1960s? Were there many overdubs, did you play together with an orchestra? What microphones did you use for your drums then? Did you use the same kit for playing live as for recording?

Bernard Purdie

By 1967, technology was phenomenal. We actually had as many as four microphones put on the drums. I had four microphones by this time. One for the snare and the hi-hat, one for the bass drum and two over head. Oh, four mics by 1967! It was only two years earlier that we only had two. My engineer was Phil Ramone, who wanted to experiment with me with sound. This was all done live. There were no overdubs here, except my voice. Buddy Lucas was in the saxophone section and he really started shouting first, so when he wasn’t playing, he started shouting. Then Phil Ramone recorded me shouting, too, and he matched our voices together so it sounds like the same person throughout.

Audience Member

But the recording machine was only a four-channel?

Bernard Purdie

In 1967? No, we were long into 8-track and 12-track recorders by then. I only recorded on two tracks, but I had four mics, and that was like “Woohoo!” Man, I hit the big time! Under normal circumstances, you had two overhead mics. But when you wanted to get down to the nitty gritty and let drums happen, I had one for the bass drum and one for the hi-hat and the snare at the same time. For me it was like balance. If I wanted more hi-hat, I played more hi-hat, if I wanted more snare — it’s called dynamics. You want things to happen, you want something to come out, that’s what you want.

Audience Member

What about the instruments, were they the same for recording as playing live?

Bernard Purdie

No. By this time, I had learned how to do record drums totally different from live. The biggest problem that you had is you had so much overtone and so much ring normally for drums, that it was the hardest thing in the world to record. By this time, 1963-1964, I was actually using a muffler. And my muffler was a torn up T-shirt that I would put over the snare and have about that much to cover [puts his fingers a couple inches apart] and about a six-inch part. The tape wouldn’t be on the snare, but actually on the ends. When that didn’t work, I used a leather wallet. People who were making the money had a thicker wallet than others. We didn’t have too many credit cards in those days. No coins in this wallet. This is all paper. [laughs] The problem that I had is that my wallet used to flop, then I had to put a rubber band on it.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Now, I don’t want to stop you talking about making money, ’cause I know that’s one of the things you do best, but as much as we love records like those records like “Soul Drums” and these rarer Bernard Purdie records that are full of drums all over the place, it was actually these pop songs that let people hear you the world over. Like Aretha Franklin’s “Rock Steady,” which David’s going to play, this is an all-time classic.

David Nerattini

When did you meet King Curtis? 1967 or ’68?

Bernard Purdie

Oh no, I met King Curtis in ’62. I was one of the fortunate ones that meeting King Curtis was a highlight in my life. I didn’t realize how big King Curtis was. All I knew was that he had the best band in the land. He had a 10-piece orchestra that was a funk band, a pop band, a classical band – whatever it took, the band smoked. They got the best parties, they got the best of everything and these guys were making a lot of money, just as side musicians. So King Curtis had the best band, and it was always dance music. Dancing was something I’d been doing all my life, so no matter what I tried to do, I tried to make my music dance music. Meeting him elevated me automatically, because he was the one who called me for 90 percent of the records that were done for Atlantic Records. He brought me in, he liked what I was doing. In the beginning he didn’t know what I was doing, but he liked the sound. The man knew sound, and whether you guys know it or not, 90 percent of every hit record from 1955 to 1968 was picked out by King Curtis on Atlantic Records.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

So he brought you in to play with Aretha Franklin?

Bernard Purdie

Yes he did, and I became part of his stable because I also became the bookkeeper. I knew what everyone was getting paid, so he was teaching me how to be a business person. How to cover, how to make contracts, I was learning how to be a contractor, how to do the business on the side. To give you a good example: He now had a 14-piece orchestra, and one of the guys wanted some money – $200, $300 – didn’t matter, he’d give it to ’em. He’d walk by, "Cornell got two!" I had to go write it down, because that was gonna be deducted from his pay. Everyone wondered how he was able to remember all the money he gave them, and there’s 14 different people in the band at this time. But that was my job, I was the bookkeeper. I became the guy for the rehearsals, because half the time he wasn’t there, and because he now became Aretha Franklin’s musical director, I had to do the same thing for her. Learning what songs she liked, so you had to learn about the people, and that was the job.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Tell us about “Rock Steady.”

Bernard Purdie

“Rock Steady” was the biggest mistake of Aretha’s life. But it was my intro to making money. We were in the studio recording it at Atlantic Studio, and the music, her lyrics, fell off the piano. She liked the groove so much she told us to keep on going. Then the four-bar break was what happened, and I understood she wanted us to keep going. But no one knew where we were and I continued, and that four bars was to keep the music going so she could pick up the music off the floor. Someone had already run in to pick up the lyrics and put them back on the piano. The only thing they did differently was she overdubbed her singing “Rock... Steady,” because they thought it had to have lyrics or something going on. But it was my break.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Those four bars were, as far as job opportunities were concerned, were worth all of those drums in “Soul Drums” and more?

Bernard Purdie

Yes.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

We got to play the song, right?

Bernard Purdie

Oh yes, please do.

(music: Aretha Franklin – “Rock Steady”)

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

That one lick at the end of the drums there, that’s your trademark lick, isn’t it?

Bernard Purdie

Yes, it is. That actually comes from what everybody calls disco. That particular lick is the circle that’s now in the music, that will be in the music for life. That is what I’ve actually added to the music itself. That is my circle that people have written in to make that sound happen. And all around the world, they had drummers who had to learn that, they’d say, “Listen, we want that psst-psst“ (makes hi-hat sound), and they had to learn how to write it, to give it to other people. And that little circle is what it is, it’s the opening and the closing of the hi-hat at the same time – raising it and tightening it, but yet giving it air.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

And Idris Muhammad says that you stole it from him.

Bernard Purdie

I know.

Audience Member

What year was “Rock Steady”?

Bernard Purdie

It was ’68. Actually, it was recorded in ’68, but came out in ’69.

David Nerattini

It says ’69 here.

Bernard Purdie

Whatever it says there, it was actually cut six to eight-months earlier.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

We got to get Aretha’s voice off those drums, man.

Bernard Purdie

You can do that now, they’ve got the machines.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

So Idris’ story about how you saw him doing that, there’s no truth to that tale?

Bernard Purdie

I was doing that lick when I was 12-years-old. That lick was something I learnt when doing the Purdie shuffle.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

The Purdie shuffle? What’s the Purdie shuffle?

Bernard Purdie

The Purdie Shuffle is quarter notes, eighth notes, 16th notes, 32nd notes, dotted notes, triplets, half notes, whole notes, everything except 64th notes. A combination of hi-hats and bass drums, soft cymbals and big cymbals, by using them all together with the dotted feel, the loping feel, and allowing it to breathe in a two-bar phrase. Not a one bar, ’cause the worst thing you can do is try to put all this into one bar, it’s a two-bar phrase, and if you think half time, you automatically fall into what is necessary for the shuffle. The best part of it is, the slower you do it, the better it is. Which is why it’s so hard for people to do, because most people don’t want to play slow. But I was doing that because of my locomotion. [drumming on his knees] The quarters become dotted. And when you start putting that all together it’s like anything you want in music, you lock it in, hand in hand with one another, and I was doing that with my hands years ago. In the beginning, I didn’t have a hi-hat. I couldn’t afford it. When I was playing in the ’50s, you had to play what everyone else did — in the big bands you played exactly what they tell you. The shuffle, whatever it was, that’s what you heard. [drumming on his knees] And it didn’t matter where you put it, whether it was on the snare or the cymbal. But, if you allow that to happen with your left hand... that’s all I started doing, I just took the straight part out and started loping it out and made it slower. Then when I started trying to do it slower, I got in trouble. I didn’t want to do it that fast, because the shuffle is there to make you go like [winds hips]. I used to try and do half as much, trying to keep the shuffle going on up here [points to his head], and I caught the devil. Because the guys would get mad at me because I was holding the tempo back. They wanted to go this way, and I’m back here, so they’d tell me, “Cut it! Cut It! C’mon!” And since you’re gonna know my nickname is by this time next year, Bugsy, that’s what they’d holler. “C’mon, Bugsy, c’mon! Get with it!” So I had to go home and practice, because I liked what I was hearing, this under-current. I didn’t know what it was, I just knew that I didn’t have to play so much. I’d have doop do doop (makes horn noise) in my head all the time. As a drummer, that wears you out, because you got to stay on top of that. You cannot afford to pull that tempo back, because that’s the quickest way for you to be out of the band. They don’t need no one to hold up the music. So do what you got to do. So I started to learn how to make this little rhythm that I was playing happen. And I called it my locomotion. Same as thinking about those 8th notes. Why do we have to play dotted notes all the time? So when I’d try something at home, [drumming on his knees] I’d try to play the straight 8th notes, and I’d think, “Damn, this is tiresome!” Putting the accents in a different place, people started to go, “Hey, I like that.” So I’d do this: play with more of a shuffle feel. And all I did was cut it in half, instead of trying to always play all the 8ths. All I tried to do was just it in half and the accents became something else - it was always about putting the accents in a different place. People started to be like, “Uh, I like that, that’s nice” — ’cause it wasn’t what they were used to, but it wasn’t the triplets ‘cause that’s all you had. Half the songs in the ‘50’s had that [plays triplet feel on his knees], this is Panama Francis, baddest man in the land when it came to the shuffle, nobody played the shuffle badder than Francis. But he played the triplets just as hard, “No! No, give us that triplet!” But that’s hard, that’s hard work, and all I tried to do was cut it in half, to not work so hard. Because everything I’ve ever done has been to try and not work so hard, to make it as easy as possible, until it got to the fact that I thought I was lazy. I worked hard at being lazy, it took a long time for me to be lazy, because I had to perfect it and that was the hard part. But I got it. [laughter]

David Nerattini

The Purdie Shuffle is much older than this recording we’re about to hear, but the world was really introduced to it by this song from a strange duo called Steely Dan, Donald Fagen and Walter Baker. And then I want to talk about them, because there are many stories about them being very harsh in the studio and making people play over and over, the same track. But, we’ll play a track...

(music: Steely Dan – “Home At Last”)

David Nerattini

The name of that song was “Home At Last,” on the Aja album from 1976.

Bernard Purdie

Actually it was 1974, but it came out in ’76. Whether you realize it or not there was two albums before that, Pretzel Logic and another one that they had...

David Nerattini

Royal Scam? That’s you playing on there?

Bernard Purdie

That’s me on everything, actually. No, I can’t go there, I got to remember that. There’s one track my man says he’s on, and that’s cool.

David Nerattini

You mean Rick Marotta?

Bernard Purdie

Yes, but anyhow, I actually did most of those early albums, too. With Pretzel Logic, I overdubbed half of the tracks that are on there. I fixed it, that’s a better word to use. The point is it’s very hard for people to understand how you fix a record. Well, I had good teachers and I also had excellent, excellent engineers. Because for me, up until you hear this record, for almost 12 to 15 years I was being trained by engineers to fix records, including... no, I’m not gonna say it.

David Nerattini

I know what you’re gonna say. Just come on out and say it. Here I’ll do the question, talking about fixing records, there’s a rumor...

Bernard Purdie

No, no, no.

David Nerattini

...that nobody really ever confirmed. That you may have fixed some of the Ringo Starr tracks for the Beatles?

Bernard Purdie

The part that hurts, the real part that hurts, is that people do not understand that fixing records was a way of life in the ’60s and the ’70s. Ninety-eight percent of self-contained groups are not on their own albums, and what I was doing, what I was really doing, is I was one of the few drummers that could go in, join the group and make the records. The record companies were paying a lot of money to make these records happen. My thing was that I got along with everyone. I never hollered or was like, “Well, that’s not the way to play that.” The Beatles music was just another job for me. ‘Cause half of the songs that I played on – I played on 21 of The Beatles tracks – half of them had no drums, because hey kicked him out in the beginning. And the whole point, whether you want to believe it or not, it becomes irrelevant at this point, but you’re gonna find out that he’s not on anything. The man made his money and everything else was made live. The man spent a million dollars promoting the Beatles. Brian Epstein spent money to promote the Beatles, and that was unheard of in the ’60s. Ringo took somebody else's place in that band ‘cause that’s who they wanted and that’s who they could control. And that’s all it was, it was all about control. He looked the part that they wanted and he’s the one they chose, and that’s what they did. But when it came to the making of those records and the fixing of those records, 98 percent of them were first recorded early in England and brought to the USA to be done and fixed. That’s why Capitol Records and Mercury Records, they both have Beatles albums. I did mine in the Capitol studio in New York. I had no idea who the hell the Beatles were or anything else, I was doing a job. And that for me is the hardest thing, because I’ve had my life threatened too many times. At this point in my life, I don’t care anymore and it really doesn’t bother me whether I talk about it or do anything else about it, because I don’t have to go back there or deal with it. I’m proud about that for my sake. What he did, he made his money, he did what he needed to do, he doesn’t have to answer to anybody else for what he’s done. It’s a shame for things to happen that way, but it did happen, and it’s happened with too many other people. There are four drummers on the Beatles music, and Ringo’s not one of them.

David Nerattini

Wow.

Bernard Purdie

Hey listen, it was a way of life. In Steely Dan, there are five different drummers that played with Steely Dan. About 60-70% of the tracks of Steely Dan is Bernard Purdie. Like I said, it’s a way of life. It was a job, and I don’t have a problem with whoever wants their name out, we all played with Steely Dan. And it’s wonderful, put it in your resume and do what you got to do and earn some money with it. If you don’t, somebody else is gonna do it. Someone’s gonna come along and say, “No, I did it!” Now they gotta go out and prove it. In the meantime, the guys going out to make himself some money saying he did something. Everyone who’s gotten the chance to play with me in the last 30-40 years, you put it in your resume. Use it. However it’s gonna help to survive as a musician, do it. And I’ll be the first one to say, “Yes, I played with ’em, ’course I did!” It doesn’t bother me, if someone played with me one time, I’d be pleased. He didn’t say he played with me a hundred times, he said he played with me. I think it’s wonderful, because it keeps you alive as a musician. But the main thing is, if you don’t learn your craft, you gonna fall back on your backside in a minute, because your reputation can only precede you if you’re doing your job. And I’m thankful to say I’m still doing my job. Hopefully, anyhow.

David Nerattini

Let’s go back to the Steely Dan. In the music industry, there’s many stories about Steely Dan actually treating musicians very roughly in the studio.

Bernard Purdie

Oh yeah.

David Nerattini

But I heard you were the only one who said, “No. This is the take. Goodbye guys, I’m going.”

Bernard Purdie

Well, it wasn’t quite that cold. But what I did do, which I was smart enough to learn to discipline myself a bit better, that, yes, I will let them know, “Fellas, take number one, two or three is the take. Now, you can go and do as many takes as you want, I don’t care because I don’t know what parts are going where. You’re paying me to be here. Wonderful, let’s go.” Now, excuse me ladies, I had enough kahunas, or whatever you want to call these things, to say what I had to say to them and get away with it because I didn’t do it in a nasty way. I’d just let them know, “Hey man, this is the take,” and I’d tell them and explain why and then 15 or 20 minutes later we start making 50 to 100 takes. That’s OK, they were paying me a lot of money to be there and they’re saying, “Oh, we wanna try something like this...” No problem, I had no problem, because when it came down to the nitty-gritty when you heard the music that was going on, it was either track one, two or three every time. So they didn’t have a problem with me saying what I had to say. First of all, they’re the payee and I enjoyed getting and collecting and being the employee. It was good money. And it worked for everybody. But, yes, yes, and yes they were a pain in the neck to 90 percent of all the musicians, because they wanted everything perfect. You’re not gonna get it that way. I’m sorry, there’s always gonna be something that spoils that perfect thing that they’re trying to do. So as time went on, they tried to pick something from another track and put it in, and, yes, they did a lot of editing to two-track. They’d mix 20 to 30 tracks. The best part of the date was Bernard Purdie’s time. When they wanted to take something from another track they could always depend on Purdie’s time — no metronomes were needed for me. Because I’d tell ‘em here, it’s right here [clicks fingers], let’s go and 50 to 100 takes later it’d still be right there. Hey, I had a good teacher, I learnt how to count and I learned how to keep time. That is my job and that’s what I teach – time.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

You know, there’s a breakbeat or two on every one of the records you’ve done, of course...

Bernard Purdie

Oh, you like that?

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Oh yeah, what’s there to hate about a good breakbeat? Interesting that most of the time you’d be recording solo albums on jazz labels like Prestige, Flying Dutchman. Is there any reason for that? A man who’s played in so many different musical genres and obviously knows so much about funk, why these jazz labels?

Bernard Purdie

Because every label that I played a record on, I was actually producing for the label. I didn’t know at one time that I should’ve gotten a lot more credit, but they were paying me good money to bring artists into every label. I was the musical director for Flying Dutchman, I was the musical director for Prestige with Bob Porter, I was the musical director for Columbia, Date Records. I actually produced Peaches & Herb, I actually produced Sly & the Family Stone. Before I made my record, I was working for Dave Kapralik, who was vice president of Columbia for his company Daedalus Productions, but I was producing the records. And everybody thought that Sly did all this that and the other, and it wasn’t — but that’s OK, they were paying me good money to do a job. Kenny Williams, a name you’d see on my record, I gave him the credit. But he didn’t get any credit for Sly or even Peaches & Herb. It was all Dave Kapralik, who was the producer and he’s the one who got all the money. He brought it to the company, we did the job. I’m an employee, that is the way it was. Now, today, you guys would never ever go for something like this. If you can’t have your production credit, you’re not gonna do the job. It’s that simple. But it was another time, another place, another thing to happen. We came along and broke the ice for you guys. Mind you, I smartened up a little bit – by the middle of the ’70s were around, Bernard Purdie started to get credit, because Bernard Purdie all of a sudden had his own production company. He signed artists to my production company and I started to collect the money. Just like a particular movie called Lialeh. Well, I own the music. I own the rights. I wrote the music and published it and even had my daughter write the lyrics.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Do you all know the movie he’s referring to, Lialeh? Famous black porno from the early ‘70s. One of those things you hear rumors about. I heard it high school, “Man, there’s this wild porno with Bernard Purdie sitting in the middle of it, smiling playing the drums.” And before the record got reissued I got a copy of the video and in the middle of it there’s Bernard Purdie with a band, and it’s funky.

Bernard Purdie

You know, the funny thing was we had an opening with lights and cameras and tuxedos. We had folks that came all dressed to kill and all these critics came from channel 1, 2, 3, 7 and 13. All these different people in tuxedos for this grand opening of the first black porno. And the first thing they see is me with the band. We were playing the title music. And then someone says, “Oh, if Purdie’s here, it’s OK.” No one really knows what’s happening and they’re looking at each other. It was a grand opening on 47th street, right across from the Edison Hotel. Anyway in the meantime, we were actually recording the title and we were having fun, we were in this little theater on 13th Street. We’re recording the title and as I’m singing, the producer is doing this [makes come closer gestures] and I’m, “OK, I’ll sing a bit louder,” and I thought he’s telling me to give him more. He wasn’t talking to me at all. He’s talking to the young lady at the back waiting to do her bath tub scene, she was dancing in the doorway. She had her tassles on and she had a g-string. She came out while we’re playing – oh, it’s really funny – the conga player, my cousin, is playing the congas and [starts making drifting motion, spellbound by the girl] and the piano player is Will Wilson, and he’s drifting, but the expression of Wilbur Bascomb, bass player, like this... [puts on poker face, looking away] He refused to look!

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

The thing is Wilbur was telling me that you didn’t even tell him what kind of movie it was!

Bernard Purdie

Well, maybe... it was music! It was just music to us, none of us knew that this was going to happen. And the best part, it was me because I’m looking at the other guys, singing and laughing away, I’m really singing, and as I’m singing she comes around the back of me and she touch me on the forehead, and I’m still singing, “Sweet sexy Lialeh,” and she got closer and the tassle got in the way [points to his face], “Sweet sexy... Lialeh.” My mouth kept going back. The funniest part was that it all happened in one take. They wanted us to do some more takes, but absolutely nothing came close to that. So they ended up using the first take, and when you see it, it’s the funniest thing in the world, ’cause it looks like I’m biting down on her breasts. [laughter / applause]

David Nerattini

Shall we listen to something?

Audience Member

Did you keep up the time?

Bernard Purdie

Oh yeah, I kept the time! No matter what I was gonna keep the time.

David Nerattini

Let’s ask the man. Is there a track you want to listen to?

Bernard Purdie

That one right there...

David Nerattini

“Day Dreaming”?

Bernard Purdie

Yeah, “Day Dreaming” – and I can tell you about “Day Dreaming.” Whether you guys realize it or not, every kind of music that you do, you take from someplace. “Day Dreaming” is the original I did with Aretha. It was actually reggae. “Rock Steady.” I had just been away with Bob Marley in Jamaica, recording him and Johnny Nash and other people, but they were teaching me reggae. So “Day Dreaming” and “Rock Steady” and so many of those hits that I did at the time, had the flavor of reggae in them. That’s why I was so pleased the way it happened. “Oh Me Oh My” and others, they were all No. 1 selling records for Aretha. But I got a chance to do a reggae sound and a feel. “Day Dreaming” is also one of those records that has the touch of reggae.

(music: Aretha Franklin – “Day Dreaming”)

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

And just in case anyone’s wondering, there’s another reason to buy this record.

David Nerattini

If I can find the break. [plays the break]

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

The same question we asked David Matthews yesterday, how do you take to the hip-hop guys and drum & bass guys all sampling your drum beats?

Bernard Purdie

In the begining, I was a little upset, because Aretha got paid, James Brown got paid, you name it, all these hit records I was on with so many people. They were the ones getting all the money. Then all of a sudden someone discovered that I wasn’t 90 years old and I’m still alive and they asked, “Do you have your own records?” Of course, I do. And then all of a sudden they started going for my records, checking it out, and finding out more and then I started to get paid. So in the last fifteen years, I’ve actually made a few dollars. I’m much much happier knowing that it’s come full cycle. It’s not just the superstars who are getting paid, and it’s a nice feeling. But I appreciate you guys, you’ve put me back on the map in a big way. I’m traveling over the world with young folks and I’m loving it. Just being able to be a part of you and for you to ask me about what I’ve lived, what I’ve gone through... what it is right now, it’s getting even better. I’ve even learned how to do it differently, I’m even creating again. You guys gave me the energy to want to create again and I love you for it. I really and truly love you all just for that. So whatever you do, don’t stop taking those breakbeats, please! [big applause] I’ve got five new ones coming out next year, and a website. And write to me also, bernardpurdie@aol.com, and if you can’t remember that, bernardpurdie.com, you can get all the information there. Come on now, talk to me!

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Are there any questions? Shall we pass the mic around?

Audience Member

What was that question that guy asked you last night about typeface... What was your favorite font?

Bernard Purdie

My favorite funk? Oh, my favorite font? Well, let me say this to you: There are all kinds of things that people will ask just to see if you know what you’re talking about. You get people who try to trip you up and it’s OK, and I don’t have a problem with that. It had nothing to do with music, but he wanted to know whether I was — excuse the expression — bullshitting or not, about things that I know something about. He had no idea that I own half of the business, half the printing business.

Audience Member

Yeah, that’s what I wasn’t sure about, whether you were joking or not.

Bernard Purdie

No, I wasn’t joking. I just wanted to get that over with and move on.

Audience Member

Another question, coming from a hip-hop perspective, because you’ve done so much work over the years, hip-hop, the four elements, whatever you want to call it, there’s a lot of competiveness. Did you ever have to take anyone out, like Idris Muhammad, over the years? You know, stick it to them?

Bernard Purdie

For what?

Audience Member

Well, people challenging you for the title of “greatest drummer” or something?

Bernard Purdie

I can tell you right now, I gave up that title a long time ago. I will never, ever be the greatest drummer. But I will be the prettiest. [massive laughter / applause] We can fight over that one, the rest of ’em you all got.

Audience Member

What kind of font did you have on your hitmaker sign?

Bernard Purdie

[laughs] I didn’t, that’s the strangest part. And everybody kept asking, “Where’s the lines for the musical notes?” That had nothing to do with it. He liked the idea of lines going in different directions, and I thought it was great because the point was that it allowed him to have fun. And that’s what it was about: having fun.

Torsten Schmidt

I guess, we really appreciate what you said earlier that you’re not afraid anymore. Can you name a couple of unsung heroes you know, when it comes to credit and stuff? Things to watch out for. Because there’s a lot of weird decontextualized combinations, like Paul Humphrey playing for Merle Haggard, and you won’t find the credit. Who should the world know about for the future?

Bernard Purdie

Just to give you a good example, Paul Humphrey became a very, very, very good friend of mine. When I used to go to California, I used to use his drums. Drummers have a way of having camaraderie. We’re not really uptight with one another. It’s what people would do — writers will try to pitch us against each other, and to them they want the edge. They want people to get upset, they sell papers and magazines, they sell whatever they have to. Earl Palmer? I used to use his drums. Paul? I’d stay at his house. I had no problems with any of these guys. Panama Francis? The first time I met Panama Francis was in the ‘60s. The industry told me that if I wanted to be the No. 1 drummer in New York, I’d have to beat out Panama Francis. I said, “Good!” The day I met Panama Francis he was walking down Broadway and someone said, “That’s Panama Francis!” So I say, “You Panama Francis? I’m Bernard Purdie, and I’m going to beat you out ’cause I’m going to be No. 1!” and I left. And he goes, “Dah dah dah.” I didn’t know he stuttered! I didn’t. But he was like, “Who the hell is he?” He didn’t know me, but that’s what I was told when I came into this industry, he was the man to beat. That was before I learnt that you can’t do it all, no one man can do it all. One guy pulled me over one day, right on 50th street said, “C’mon!” Took me off the street, took me to the back of the bar. I knew I was dead. I was shaking, and he says, “I want to tell you something, you can go around thinking you’re the greatest and this that and the other, but you’re one person, you can only be in one studio at a time. You can only do one job at a time, and you are not the only drummer in this town.” And this was Herbie Lovelle, and he was the ultimate drummer in New York to me. Panama Francis, Joe Marshall, they were the heaviest. But for him to take me inside and stop me from this falseness that I’d taken on because of people telling me that’s who you have to beat out to become No. 1, then I started to understand. Yes, of course there’s more than one studio, there’s a hundred studios. I never thought. I just didn’t think. My whole thing was: I’ve got to be No. 1, I’ve got to take his job. It wasn’t about his job, you’ve got to do your job and make it happen. You can only be at one place at one time and be the best you can be at what you’re going to do. Whatever you’re doing be good at it — just be good at it. And you’ll come right on through.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

So who are the other three drummers on the Beatles records? [laughter] That’s what my man wants to know!

Bernard Purdie

Who knows? I don’t know what’s coming out in the book, and they told me I have my first proof in December, but I’ve been waiting and writing this book for over 20 years. Three times I’ve tried to get this book done, and it was just so negative that I said, “I can’t put this out like this, because I’ll never work.” I’m not interested in telling the dirt on all the people I work with because all of ’em could turn around and tell the dirt on me. And I don’t need that. The IRS has been on my back for a long time, I don’t need them on my back anymore! But really, the book is wonderful — I didn’t know how good. They loved what happened to me in Elkton, Maryland, so he went and did his own research. And I’m like, “Man, I didn’t know... Oh yeah, I did that!” I did so much, I didn’t realize what I’d done. But it was a wonderful feeling, just reading some of the excerpts. It’s wonderful. I mean, no matter how you look at it, it’s going to be a marvellous book.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

Any more questions?

Audience Member

Can we be a bit more specific on the last one? How about shedding some light on people who are overlooked? It’s not necessarily the places that you’d look for them in the first place, so maybe it would be a chance for you to guide us to somewhere that would really get us going. People we should know about from studio sessions.

Bernard Purdie

Well, one guy you should know about for sure is Herbie Lovelle. He was even in the studio before me, and he had the best snare drum sound that you’d ever want to hear. The best. He goes back to people like the “Name Game” by Shirley Ellis, it was two drummers, him and me, but the man was a leader. He wanted to step out of drumming and go into business, but the business buried him. They buried him because he became a threat. Other producers, if you’re not successful in the first thing you do, they try to bury you. I’ve been there. I’ve never had just one thing, ’cause I’ve always had other things going on. I was very fortunate that I had good teachers. But I look at Panama Francis and it’s a shame that Panama left here with very little, because the industry bypassed him. They said he was too old, but you never get too old for music. Idris should be recognised, because the man has done it for so many years. He is a legend within his own right. We did so many records together at CTI, Columbia, RCA, Prestige. The point is, he’s not getting the credit and I don’t know who to blame. But I know that if you step out of your shell and you try to fight back and do something, you need some help. Each one of them, they need a lot of help. Give them the help if you can, because they are dynamite players. If you don’t like somebody because of whatever the reason, you shouldn’t take away what they’ve given to the industry. That is wrong. You might not like someone, but when they’ve given so much to the industry, they need to be credited. I don’t worry about it for myself, because I know in history a whole lot is going to come out of what I’ve done. And that’s OK, because I’m living my history. I meant exactly what I said when I said that you guys have given me life again — you’ve given me another good 20 years of to play funk. Then I might think of playing a bit more jazzy jazz. But 20 years from now, I’m still going to be playing some funk. And it’s nice, because you give me the opportunity to do this. Don’t take this for granted, none of you. This is a stepping stone for each and every one of you. And I want to say a million thanks to Red Bull, but I owe right here. [puts his arm around Egon] This young man, he asked me to do this, and I said, “OK.” He tried to explain what it is and he said, “I can’t tell you all of it, but I can tell you it’d be great for your career, it would be great for them to hear what you have to say.” And he started praising me and saying, “These guys know your beats, and...” Nuff said! Give me the date, give me the time, we’ll get it done. We didn’t talk about money, he felt that this would be good for me. No, it’s been wonderful for me. This is a real, real treat. I love you for what you’re doing and whatever you do, don’t stop. Allow yourself to make history yourselves. It’s a wonderful feeling, because you can take this with you. You can all take it with you. And some of you will be taking it to the bank. [laughter] It works. But yes, I’ll give you the names and addresses of people that I think you need to be in touch with. I appreciate it, I am glad to be here.

Eothen “Egon” Alapatt

We appreciate it too. It’s great to have you here. Bernard Purdie, ladies and gentleman. [applause]