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Here are a few audio
excerpts I cleaned up that demonstrate Buddy's persistence for perfection.
Note he says the f-word 132 times. The transcriptions can be found below
and on Page2, Page3.
AUDIO
1) After the first set
2) In
the bus between sets
3) In
the tour bus between sets
4) In
a tour bus traveling to the next gig
Buddy Rich, The
Person
Buddy Rich may have been
the world's greatest drummer, but in his dealings with his bandmembers off
the stand, he might be described as a total prick with ears. Rich had an ego that fed a perverse
sense of perfectionism and the need to control and dominate the players
in "HIS" bands. Below is a little compilation of some of Buddy's tirades
that took place at different times and in different venues. It would appear
that these "conversations" were transcribed from tapes that were made to
document Buddy's explosive and sometimes verbally abusive behaviour. If
Buddy had known that there were tape recorders being snuck into the rooms,
I'm confident that he might have hurt someone. Please note that this little
document contains GRAPHIC EXPLITIVES.
Notes: This is a
transcription, with sound files, of some memorable moments off of "The
Tape", the infamous bootleg tape of Buddy screaming at his band between
sets, often on a tour bus. Adult language abounds, so read at your
own risk.
The tape was created
by a pissed off band member or two, who hid a walkman in their clothes
between the sets to capture Buddy.
On a Positive Note...
I recently
received an email from a trumpet player in Buddy's band. Read what he
had to say about Buddy.
Emmett,
Hi, I have been looking at your site and I wanted you to know that Buddy
Rich wasn't at all the way you have him portrayed, as a "prick". I played
trumpet and stood next to him every night for almost three years from
1975-1977. We had a great band that loved and respected him and he was
95% a sweetheart the whole time. The only time I saw him as he sounds
on the tapes is when he had a bad back, or a band full of young guys who
couldn't play well but thought they could, who showed disrespect towards
him and thought they were too good to be there. I went back later for
a few weeks and the band was like that. He and I were both miserable.
Steve Marcus and Buddy and I sat together on the bus one night and he
asked what he could do to get the band back to a high level. He was frustrated
that yelling didn't help. It only made the lousy players band together
and feel persecuted while continuing to suck.
I know that tape sounds
funny to most people, but to the people who knew him to be unbelievably
generous, (I could tell you stories) funny, loving and a whole different
kind of drummer than any other on Earth, that tape hurts because we hear
his pain and confusion as to how guys can suck and not know it.
I'm sure you appreciate
his playing or you wouldn't have bothered to design such a great site!
(I'm from Buffalo originally. Are you in Rochester? We probably have mutual
friends,) Anyway, I just thought you should know the real Buddy.
p.s. I played with Barry
Kiener (keys) for most of my stay with the band. He was amazing. Not only
could he play his ass off, he could remember what rooms everyone stayed
in on any date of any year. (one of those freakish kinds of memory) We
all loved him. Buddy was absolutely crazy about him. Anyway, keep up the
good work with your love of music and I'm glad you didn't mind my spouting
off about Buddy.
Sincerely,
Ross Konikoff
Audio One
(In a dressing room for
the band)
BR-You
think I'm runnin' fifteen fuckin'...Close that door. (musician slams door)
What kind of playing is being played here the past two nights? What is
this? New phrasing, new bending, new sounds, no time! What the fuck do
you think I'm running here? What kind of playing do you call this? What
kinda shit is going on in the fuckin'...(turns to the bass player) What
kinda, what kinda setting do you got on the bass tonight?
Bass Player-Setting?
BR-I
feel that's fairly much english.
Bass Player-It's
the same as I've always had out there.
BR-What's
with this, what's with this bending?
Bass Player-I
decided...
BR-(interrupting)
Who decided?
Bass Player-I
did.
BR-Your
deciding is wrong!
Bass Player-I
didn't do it on purpose. I...
BR-(interrupting
again) You're
deciding what kind of phrasing. You're deciding who and what the leader
is. You're gonna watch who you wanna watch...(turns to the rest of the
band). Everybody's on two weeks notice tonight. I'm telling you, everybody
gets two weeks notice tonight. I can't handle this anymore. You're all...(pauses
thoughtfully) you're not my kind of people, at all. I don't understand
this fuckin' kind of music at all. I don't understand what anybody is
doing up there. I'm workin' my fuckin' ass off...(turns to a trumpet player)
You put that fuckin' mouthpiece into that bell again, I'm gonna take that
fuckin' horn and break it across my knee! Do you understand that?
Trumpet Player-I'll
stay away, you can't hear a note though.
BR-I
can hear everything! I don't give a fuck what you hear. I hear it, and
all I know is that you're blowin' my fuckin' eardrum out! (turns to the
saxophones) The saxophones, you can play the flute, there's no sound in
flutes. All I hear is noise. If you get any fuckin' closer you'll electrocute
yourselves. What do you think I got a man with a sound system out there
for? Sit down and play some fuckin' music! You afraid you won't be heard,
is that it? I'll turn the motherfucker off all of you, then see what kind
of a band you got up there, without all the assistance. You can't play
shit! I'm accustomed to working with number one musicians. I'm not accustomed
to working with half-assed fuckin' kids who think they wrote the fuckin'
music business. You got a long way to go. You got a long way to go. Every
one of you got a long fuckin' way to go. Do you understand what I'm sayin'?
You can't play shit up there for me. What the fuck you're doin' up there
doesn't deserve to be called a "name" band. The fuckin' kids out at the
park there, they sounded fifty times better than any one of you! And that's
without a rhythm section. Maybe they enjoy what they are doin' here. If
you don't enjoy it here, fuck you! And get off my band. Or we can find
other ways to settle it. I'm just so fuckin' tired of having to go through
speeches with you guys. You're all a fuckin' bunch of children. There's
not a man among you, not one man who can go out there and play the job
like a man. You're all up there, fuckin' high school, bullshit jive artists.
You jived me for the last fuckin' time. You got two sets to make up your
fuckin' mind or I get me an all L.A. band tomorrow night. Don't think
that's not impossible. It's very fuckin' possible. I've had it with you
guys. I ought to give each one of you motherfuckers a cut in salary before
I get out of this fuckin' room!
(Exit Buddy, slamming
the door behind him)
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