The drummer Keith Moon called technically “perfect”
It takes a lot to be a drummer of historic significance, and Keith Moon did it with aplomb. Known as ‘Moon the Loon’ by his bandmates and fans, the many tales of rock ‘n’ roll craziness that his madcap existence spawned often threaten to overshadow the fact that, before all else, he was a pioneer of the drum kit. He changed the direction and significance of the instrument.
The late Who powerhouse wasn’t the only one of his generation to create a new blueprint for rock drummers, with Ginger Baker, John Bonham and later Neil Peart others that raised the bar considerably for all sticksmen. However, Moon’s fusion of rock ‘n’ roll attitude, devilish stamina and a genuinely brilliant jazz-adjacent approach gave the London quartet a constantly dynamic and unpredictable rhythmic ballast. Their grooves had an edge that left the other prominent acts of their day ruing.
This is true even for the active late 1960s period after jazz-lover Mitch Mitchell had powered The Jimi Hendrix Experience to superstardom, and Bonham’s elemental grooves saw Led Zeppelin rise out of the ashes of The Yardbirds and finally move the world along from its fixation with The Beatles.
From ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ live at Shepperton Studios to the expressive thuds of the instrumental ‘The Rock’ from Quadrophenia, Moon’s oeuvre is brimming with notable moments that pushed drumming into its future. He helped set the scene for the likes of Peart, Phil Collins, and later heroes such as Chad Smith to arrive and continue to prop rock up as it withstands the constant shifting of the zeitgeist.
While Moon was, in many ways, an enigma right until his tragic death in 1978, now and again, he did venture upon moments of clarity that are strong counterpoints to the maniacal firestarter so intrinsic to rock ‘n’ roll lore. This included the time he spoke to Rolling Stone in 1972 when he discussed some of his favoured drummers and enlightened fans about how his unique approach coalesced.
It wasn’t without his distinctive humour, either. Brimming with his madcap essence, when asked how he got behind the kit, The Who man responded: “Jesus Christ, I think I got a free drum kit in a packet of cornflakes. Ah-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-ha-Ha! But no… drum solos are fucking boring. Any kind of solo is. It detracts from the group identity.”
However, Moon would then cut through the comedy and explain that there weren’t many drummers who significantly impacted him and that he didn’t have an actual favourite. However, he did name a few he respected, and even dubbed Joe Morello, the rhythmic genius behind some of cool jazz proponent Dave Brubeck’s best work, as technically “perfect”.
“Not many,” Moon said in a rare moment of calm reflection. “D.J. Fontana [Elvis‘ original drummer] is one. Let’s see, the drummers I respect are Eric Delaney and Bob Henrit [from Argent], and I got a ‘huge list, really, and all for different reasons. Technically, Joe Morello is perfect. I don’t really have a favourite drummer. I have favourite drum pieces, and that’s it. I would never put on an LP of a drummer and say everything he did I love because that’s not true.”
While the drummers he noted are significant in what they tell us about his style, Moon’s concluding comment was also fitting. He was an authentic creative, and his approach to music was mostly his own – a common standpoint for all innovators.
