Misrepresented from the Beginning?

Recordings of interest concerning the drum kit began around 1913, when record companies began to take notice of dance crazes that were sweeping across the country.³ Yet, fourteen years later in 1927, an advert from The Talking Machine World, titled ‘Drum Notes Not Only Heard – But Identified!’,⁴ advertised a new home speaker, promising that ‘thousands of radio listeners will now realise for the first time that radio orchestras have drums when they hook up this new, improved Crosley Musicone’. While it is dubious as to just how clear the drum parts would have been on this new device, what is clear is that, to some extent, audiences were not used to hearing the drum kit on record at this time, as its newfound clarity was used as a point on which to market this new technology.

Recorded music is utilised in many different ways: most obviously, as entertainment for the general listener; profit-making commodity for the producer, or record label; and often, an object of study for the performing musician seeking to learn from these captured moments in musical history. On this last point, the opening quotations to this chapter demonstrate both the importance and the danger of these recordings for the aspiring drum kit player.

Historically Informed Performance (HIP) is an approach to the performance of Western art music, most commonly from the Medieval, Renaissance, and Baroque eras. At its most basic level, it means performing music with special attention given to the performance conventions and technology present when the piece of music was composed. Taruskin’s collected essays on his critique of HIP music, Text & Act, is telling of his primary complaint with early music performers: that they give authority to a preserving text.⁵ ‘Central to this concept’, Taruskin explains, ‘is an idealised notion of what a musical work is: something wholly realised by its creator, fixed in writing, and thus capable of being preserved’.⁶ This, he argues, leads to HIP practitioners placing too much value on objects, and not enough on the people performing them, and insists that the ultimate authority rests with the interpreters rather than the texts, ‘for texts do not speak for themselves’.⁷ Performers seeking to recreate the styles of early jazz (or ‘HIJP’ performers, if I may insert the word ‘jazz’), often replace scores with early recordings made in the 1910s and 1920s. This chapter argues that, while this may prove beneficial for musicians studying the clarinet, trumpet, trombone, and the like, the drum kit may not be adequately represented in such a way. Perhaps drummers, more than other instrumentalists, have reason to doubt the validity of what Taruskin describes as ‘the text’.

My own experiences in performance, as a drummer playing early jazz music, have led me to reconsider what it is to play in this style, and where to look for my ‘text’. The role that early recordings play in jazz history determine how this music is interpreted today. This chapter will explore how drummers were represented on record, how this differed from their colleagues, and how HIJP performers today can balance the importance of recorded music with these considerations.

Drummers Disadvantaged in Early Recordings: Acoustic Age

From the introduction, the ‘Crosley Musicone’ demonstrates that playback equipment during the 1910s through the 1920s was ill-equipped to reproduce the sounds of early drum kits. However, playback equipment was not the only reason for this, as the problem began in the studio itself.

There is an abundance of primary sources describing the need to remove drums from the acoustic recording studio (pre-electric recording technology, between 1890 and 1925). Even in the final year of acoustic recording (1924) Variety magazine reports the apocryphal claim that ‘a drum has never been reproduced on wax’.⁸ While this is an exaggeration, they certainly were not reproduced well. Tales of bass drums making the recording needle ‘jump’ are well known, but every component part of the drum kit came under attack in the early recording studio. One of the earliest sources comes from early audio-enthusiast publication The Phonoscope, in 1899. It recommends that, while the studio should accommodate the snare drum, sound engineers should ‘omit the bass drum. It is likely to spoil the effect, as it does not record well’.⁹ Three years later, this was repeated in similar journal (The Phonogram), but with an additional piece of advice: ‘The bass drum and cymbals should be left out entirely, as they do not record at all well’.¹⁰ In 1903 one publication described the recorded bass drum fidelity as ‘disappointing’,¹¹ and that same year the Edison Phonograph Monthly went further: ‘In making a band record bass drums are never used, as these blur or “fog” the record; cymbals are seldom used and snare drums in solo parts only’.¹² As late as 1914 the same journal reported that the snare drum was no longer a solo instrument in terms of recording: ‘a trio of banjo, piano and drum, is worthy of special attention, as it is the first time these three instruments have been successfully recorded in combination by us’.¹³ This problem seemed to persist throughout the 1910s, as the advertising manager of the English division of Columbia Records recalled that in 1911 ‘the big drum never entered a recording room’.¹⁴ In 1914 Talking Machine World states ‘bass drums and cymbals should never be used, as they have a tendency to fog the record’.¹⁵ This advice was followed right from the 1890s and carried through to the 1920s; a photograph of the Original Memphis Five taken in 1922 shows them as a ‘recording unit’, with drummer Jack Roth seated at nothing but a snare drum (see Figure 2.1).

Figure 2.1 Original Memphis Five, 1922: drummer Jack Roth on a snare drum only. Originally published in Record Research

Figure 2.1 shows drummer Roth’s bandmates pictured with their complete instruments: trumpet, trombone, clarinet, and grand piano. Many parts of Roth’s instrument – which in 1922 would feature a bass drum, multiple cymbals of different sizes and timbres, and an array of traps – are missing. Here, Roth played on a snare drum only. Replicating these recordings today necessitates choices about what to include and what to omit, complicating the accuracy or validity of the historic interpretation.

Moving later through the 1920s, an article from Melody Maker describes the conditions of a drummer in an acoustic studio as late as 1926:

Recollections from studio musicians of the time tell a similar story, though contradict on what parts of the drum kit were preferred. Drummer Chauncey Morehouse (1902–1980) and bandleader Paul Whiteman (1890–1967) are reported to have not used bass drums in the acoustic studio.¹⁷ Cornetist Wild Bill Davidson (1906–1989) recalls his recordings with the Chubb-Steinberg band in 1924–1925: ‘Drums couldn’t be used on the recordings, because the needle used in the process would jump the grooves when a drum beat; cymbals were used instead’.¹⁸ Abbey ‘Chinee’” Foster (1900–1962) recalls his 1925 recordings as a similar experience, only adding woodblock to the mix.¹⁹

While photographic evidence of bands in the acoustic studio are scarce, those that exist show an inconsistent picture, and almost never a full drum kit. One studio, Gennett Records, had a fortunate habit of photographing its many bands, albeit only bands comprising of white members, that passed through its doors through the first half of the 1920s. These images, all taken by photographer William Dalbey, captured each band in the same room, position, and theme (musicians pictured with their instruments), making for an informative comparison.²⁰ Of these eight photographs, taken between 1923 and 1928, five of these show drummers Stan King, George Gowans, Doc Stultz, Tom Gargano, and Earl McDowell playing on nothing more than a ‘trap rack’ with minimal traps (one cymbal, one woodblock), with no drums used at all. The recording made in this session, Davenport Blues, is of poor audio quality, but what percussion there is to hear supports what is in the picture; there is a prominent muted cymbal rhythm but little else. This setup was described by New Orleans Musician Charlie Bocage (1900–1963), who recalled that in his recording experience with drummer Louis Cottrell and the Piron band, these were the only drums allowed.²¹ One photograph shows drummer Vic Moore using what would be a full drum kit (Chinese cymbal, Turkish cymbal, cowbell, woodblock, and snare drum) if it were not for the fact that there is no bass drum. His snare drum is heavily dampened with cloth or rubber (much like today’s practice silencers that we place on acoustic kits), which would have greatly affected the performance. It is this photograph,²² along with another depicting drummer Gargano²³ that led some to the conclusion that it was a matter of space that kept the bass drum at the studio door;²⁴ however, this can’t be the case, as there are two photographs that show Hitch’s Happy Harmonists showing drummer Earl McDowell using a bass drum with his full set-up (which includes cymbal and Chinese tom-tom).²⁵ A snare drum is likely present, obscured behind the bass drum. Unfortunately this isn’t reflected in the corresponding recordings; the full set of drums depicted here cannot be heard any more than the recordings that came out of the other depicted sessions. It is, of course, possible that this was brought in merely to showcase the band’s logo on the drum head, knowing a photograph was to be taken on those sessions.

The status of the drum kit in the studio is, at best, complicated and inconsistent; one can find evidence of bass drums present on early recordings (the famous 1917 Original Dixieland Jass Band sessions shows remarkable clarity from the bass drum). Strangely, this is often more common with earlier records from the late 1910s than the 1920s, and speaks to the infancy of the recording process itself: inconsistencies are likely explained by the engineer one had on the day; while some would indeed take risks, many, perhaps most, did not.²⁶

It wasn’t just the engineers that held the fate of the drummer’s sound – at this time, everything was in the hands of the ‘A&R’ manager (‘artist and repertoire’ manager, sometimes referred to as the ‘recording master’). One such A&R manager was Eddie King, involved in making records from as early as 1905, before moving to Victor Records, then leaving for Columbia Records in 1926.²⁷ A well-known authoritarian, an A&R executive like King could have serious consequences for the drum kit in the studio. Drummer Chauncey Morehouse recalls that King only allowed his own drum equipment to be used. An ex-drummer himself in the John Phillip Sousa Band, King had meticulously experimented with his various percussion items, and had his pre-approved house cymbals which he insisted every drummer use.²⁸ Musician Nat Shilkret (1889–1982), who remembers King as a good drummer in his day, recalls that King had a cymbal he was fond of, which he brought to Victor’s recording studios, and that he would go into the recording room and hold the cymbal himself ‘ready to strike it at spots at which he thought it would help’. Shilkret remembers that he and the other younger engineers were tired of this, and began hitting the cymbal themselves unbeknown to King, to chip away at the cymbal until King was compelled to throw it away.²⁹

Drummers Disadvantaged in Early Recordings: Electric Age

It was radio broadcasting, and the revolutionary technology it employed, that grudgingly dragged the recording industry out of the acoustic era. Radio’s superior electric technology was able to record drum kits clearer than ever before, years before the recording studio caught up. Figure 2.2 shows two bands in the radio studio using full drum kits in broadcasts from 1922. These are among the earliest photographs of a microphone being used to capture a full drum kit performance.

Figure 2.2 Top: An unknown band broadcasting from the Detroit News Auditorium, 1922. Bottom: Ted Lewis and his band broadcasting from the Union Trust Co.’s radio station in Cleveland, Ohio, at seven o’clock p.m. on Tuesday, 24 October 1922.

However interesting it is to see full drum kits on radio broadcasts as early as 1922, it remains unclear what one actually heard at the other end of an early radio broadcast. A report on the drum kit’s sound over radio that year casts doubt that this greatly improved on the acoustic method: ‘traps carry well over the radio because of their sharp, clearly defined characteristics. The bass drum is too low and slow’.³⁰ In 1925, Radio Age describes the conditions of radio recording as being similar to what we have heard of the acoustic studio: ‘the drums are eliminated entirely’.³¹ One year later Radio Broadcast wrote of the state of drums on radio: ‘Perhaps in 95 per cent of the radio receivers in use to-day, it is impossible to hear a note as low as that given by a drum’.³²

Similarly, when the recording industry followed radio and went electric in 1925, this was by no means an overnight change for the drum kit. The last half of the 1920s were an ‘adjustment period’ for this technology, and while good reports of drum kit recordings start to appear, inconsistencies remain. Clarinettist Barney Bigard (1906–1980) recalls a recording session with Duke Ellington in 1928 – almost certainly recorded in an electric studio, considering the date – where drummer Sonny Greer turned up but had to sit out because the studio simply could not record the drums.³³

It is true that electrical recording rapidly improved as recordings moved into the mid-1930s, though by this time this technology brought with it a new swing style, and it was too late for the early jazz bands to immortalise their sound with clear fidelity. Early drummers did appear in later years on clear recordings demonstrating their techniques – most notably, Baby Dodds (1898–1959),³⁴ who made recordings discussing his 1920s drumming style – though these musicians could not unhear the different styles they had adopted since the days of when they used techniques they were purporting to demonstrate.

The power that recording technology, and the way it developed, had over a band is demonstrated by a 1925 Billboard article commenting on the switchover from acoustic to electrical recording, and how this would have consequences, not just on clarity and fidelity, but on what instruments would be favoured to the downfall of others:

Drums ‘in’ or ‘out of vogue’, as described above, were determined by the technology that could or could not capture them. Rather than merely adding fidelity, early electrical recording technology complimented some instruments to the disadvantage of others. Today some listeners regard the banjo as an old-fashioned sound in jazz – perhaps its demise was due to changes in recording techniques. This seems possible, given that it also predicts the rise of the saxophone in jazz music, as saxophonists ‘will find electrical recording a boon … Thus many saxophonists formerly unable to plan dates will now be able to enjoy an extra source of revenue’. The article continues: ‘Recording orchestras are busy figuring out new recording combinations under the new plan. As previously mentioned, instruments formerly neglected will be put in and others now used may have to be cut out, temporarily at least’.³⁶

Beyond the Record

Clearly the recording process, and its restrictions, represented drummers in a way that was not indicative of the way they played on stage. In terms of not being able to record certain components of the drum kit, leaving parts at the studio door. This omission can rightly be described as restrictive and certainly drummers have therefore been misrepresented on record. Perhaps players today interested in HIJP should ignore or place less importance on these records than other members of the band. However, these studio restrictions ultimately changed the way that drummers played on their instrument (as a whole, or whichever parts were allowed in). When we consider these changes in style that recording necessitated (or perhaps we should say, facilitated?) perhaps what may be thought of as ‘restrictions’, could instead be viewed as part of the drum kit’s story. Much like other forces that shaped the drum kit (as an instrument, and in terms of performance practice), perhaps recording restrictions, and the measures that drummers took accordingly, could be embraced by the HIJP performer today. Once we examine what performance practices came out of these restrictions, it becomes obvious that these carried through to live performance outside of the studio.

One such studio influence was how drummers dealt with the volume of their instrument. Drummers were encouraged to give unequal weighting to parts of the drum kit, such as sharp-sounding traps (e.g. woodblocks, cowbells, rims of the drum) to cut through and be heard, or to play with brushes where they would not have otherwise, in order to avoid saturating the recording horn. Baby Dodds speaks of this:

Dodds also recorded with Jelly Roll Morton, on the famous Hot Pepper sessions. Dodds recalls of Morton: ‘Because he wanted the drum so very soft I used brushes on Mr. Jelly Lord. I didn’t like brushes at any time but I asked him if he wanted me to use them and he said “Yes”’. How many drummers since have wanted to sound like Baby Dodds, and mimicked a sound that Dodds himself did not enjoy? Similarly, Dodds discussed playing the washboard on some of his recordings for his brother Johnny.³⁸ Ed Allen (1897–1974) recalls ‘washboard was a good substitute for drums, as bass drums wouldn’t record in those days anyway’.³⁹ The drum kit and the way it is played, has been partially shaped by its own volume, and the way recording studios and acoustic bands reacted to this volume. Volume is something that has hampered, influenced, and inspired drum kit performance. It continues to be an issue when performing, practicing, and discussing the drum kit’s place in popular music today.⁴⁰

How many of these studio habits were brought forward into live playing? Would brush playing be as prominent in jazz today if it were not so encouraged amongst drummers in the early days of recording (and during this crucial stage of the instrument’s development)? We associate washboard playing with the early jazz of this era, but not from reading about it – from listening to it. Practitioners of HIJP would benefit from considering the bigger picture, beyond the record: the studio, its restrictions, and its influence. Our contemporary understanding of jazz history reflects the practices of those bands captured on recording, as opposed to the bigger picture of jazz practice – in and out of the studio – at any given time of recording.

A Cycle of Influence

The picture becomes blurred as to what is considered ‘live’ and ‘studio’ performance when one considers the far-reaching influence these records have on subsequent generations of drummers. Jazz recordings have been, from their beginnings through to today, an essential teaching tool for musicians learning and developing the genre.⁴¹ For example, Bix Beiderbecke is said to have taught himself trumpet by listening to the recordings of Original Dixieland Jass Band.⁴² Cornetist Jimmy McPartland (1907–1991) describes his experience, as his friends heard, for the first time, recordings of the New Orleans Rhythm Kings: ‘We stayed there from about three in the afternoon until eight at night, just listening to those records one after another, over and over again. Right then and there we decided we would get a band and try to play like these guys’.⁴³ The influence of early recordings was the inspiration for the formation of many bands. The next stage was using these recordings to learn the style, which McPartland then describes:

Records were often a way for other drummers listening to develop their own styles. However, while clarinettists and trumpet players could learn the solos and licks on the records that would appear in the ephemeral setting of a nightclub note-for-note, the aspiring drummer was not so fortunate. Drummers either would not be able to hear the parts they wished to learn, or if they could, would they want to? And, the important question for HIJP performers today: should they? As recorded jazz music began to circulate throughout the United States and beyond, this affected the way in which a new generation of jazz musicians would learn the drum kit, and interpret their role in live performance. These musicians would then record the next generation of jazz records, and a cycle of influence would be born. During the spring of 1948, Baby Dodds travelled to Europe with Mezz Mezzrow’s band, and commented on how his drumming had been interpreted by Europeans listening to his records:

When HIJP drummers today play early jazz, just where are they taking their technique from? Recordings have undoubtedly provided the most interesting, informative, and rewarding tool when researching how this music was played, yet in the early recording studio not all instruments were created equal. The representation of drummers on record should be considered in order to project an accurate picture of what was really played in dancehalls in the late 1910s and throughout the 1920s, but also in order to consider how and why drummers are represented and portrayed the way they are today.

Conclusion

What is it to record: events, opinions, music? In order to record, we need a mediator between past and present. Just as one cannot remove the historian from the history, technology is the inevitable barrier between what was played then, and what is heard now. This chapter began by implying that the drum kit was comparatively disadvantaged by this technology, and misrepresented, but perhaps this is a weighted statement. It certainly was most affected; the effects ranged from a culling of the instrument’s component parts (and in this sense records perhaps shouldn’t be used so stringently by the aspiring HIJP drummer) to legitimate performance considerations that have defined the sound of early jazz to modern listeners. We may wish that drummers were given an equal footing from the start, but the fact is that the sound of early jazz – the sound we may wish to replicate or recreate – is defined by these early studio restrictions, and they should add to the balance of considerations the HIJP drummer must make in their performance practice.