Uploaded September 2026 | Updated September 2026, 2 hours ago
Why do you want to be in music? Do you know what you’re trying to achieve in the medium? What do you want it to give you, and what do you want to give it in return? All good questions, too seldom asked.
In the community of music generators, there is an increasingly firm distinction between what we might call ‘content providers’ on the one hand, and ‘storytellers’ (who used to be called performers), on the other.
For the solo singer-songwriter, the story being told is commonly a personal one with clear authorship. In this context, a story-teller is someone who conveys meaning through performance. Millions of micro-decisions over 50 years, collectively known as my idiolect, become my personal manner of speaking. I share the result when I play my drums. I am telling a non-verbal story through music. Which drum? Where, when, and how hard or softly shall I play it? My story-telling conveys the person that I am, like it or not. I’m up front, and it’s personal. Sublimation of one’s musical personality as a content provider is contrasted to its projection as a story-teller.
For the jazz saxophonist performing her own material, or even re-interpreting that of others, her work similarly falls clearly within the bounds of story-telling. She’s re-interpreting the music within the possibilities afforded by her own idiolect. Rock groups are very much about finding and telling their story, or a story, sometimes connected to a truth.
But what story is the story-teller telling if she is under the baton of a conductor in an orchestra, or the direction of a band-leader or K-Pop producer? Some say she's a 'content provider'. Advertisers, K-Pop entrepreneurs, conductors, musical directors and heavily-invested record companies tend to oversee and control the process of the content generation to ensure they get what they believe the market wants.These providers have chosen to sublimate the expression of their feeling and emotions in the process of providing the music precisely as required.
Gradually Going Tornado is about story-telling. The album artwork jumps straight in; it takes its name from the artwork of Romanian artist Paul Neagu, which was used for the album sleeve. Something about the foetal position of the figure on the front said he was about to uncoil, and unleash an astonishing amount of power, or so it seemed to me.
Guitarist Allan Holdsworth had departed the band before recording began. His absence left a black whole into which others stepped magnificently. Dave Stewart contributed ‘Land’s End’, a quintessential piece of beautiful English pastoral writing that, like Mendelssohn’s ‘Fingal’s Cave’, evokes the magnificent smashing of the Atlantic rollers against the rocks in his adopted UK county of Cornwall.
The sinister ‘Gothic 17’ came to life largely under Dave’s close engagement with my early first draft. The album contains arguably Jeff Berlin’s greatest set of performances with the band. He offered us his ‘Tower of Power’-ish hymn to a boxing hero, Joe Frazier. His bass solo on ‘Palewell Park’ is the art of the story-teller writ large. Few can deny that had the word ‘genius’ not been invented, this performance would have surely brought it into being.
Many early-career music-generators have only the sketchiest of ideas about what is driving them to forge a living in the occupation. I think I was always a performer/story-teller, wishing to project and interact live with an audience and my colleagues. Not for me the loneliness of the long-distance content-provider, sublimating his personal idiolect in the interest of putting bread on the table. I like to eat, too. I guess I was just lucky to be able to afford to do the projection thing. Whatever the psychology; for me, I chose right.
But I could have chosen wrong, and followed perhaps a less joyful path; gradually going tornado. I guess the takeaway here is: know yourself, before you tangle with the powerful medicine that is music.
#drummer #drums #kingcrimson #yes #jazz #musicimprovisation #music #yes #drumming #billbrufordsearthworks #tamadrums #paistecymbals
Why do you want to be in music? Do you know what you’re trying to achieve in the medium? What do you want it to give you, and what do you want to give it in return? All good questions, too seldom asked.
In the community of music generators, there is an increasingly firm distinction between what we might call ‘content providers’ on the one hand, and ‘storytellers’ (who used to be called performers), on the other.
For the solo singer-songwriter, the story being told is commonly a personal one with clear authorship. In this context, a story-teller is someone who conveys meaning through performance. Millions of micro-decisions over 50 years, collectively known as my idiolect, become my personal manner of speaking. I share the result when I play my drums. I am telling a non-verbal story through music. Which drum? Where, when, and how hard or softly shall I play it? My story-telling conveys the person that I am, like it or not. I’m up front, and it’s personal. Sublimation of one’s musical personality as a content provider is contrasted to its projection as a story-teller.
For the jazz saxophonist performing her own material, or even re-interpreting that of others, her work similarly falls clearly within the bounds of story-telling. She’s re-interpreting the music within the possibilities afforded by her own idiolect. Rock groups are very much about finding and telling their story, or a story, sometimes connected to a truth.
But what story is the story-teller telling if she is under the baton of a conductor in an orchestra, or the direction of a band-leader or K-Pop producer? Some say she's a 'content provider'. Advertisers, K-Pop entrepreneurs, conductors, musical directors and heavily-invested record companies tend to oversee and control the process of the content generation to ensure they get what they believe the market wants.These providers have chosen to sublimate the expression of their feeling and emotions in the process of providing the music precisely as required.
Gradually Going Tornado is about story-telling. The album artwork jumps straight in; it takes its name from the artwork of Romanian artist Paul Neagu, which was used for the album sleeve. Something about the foetal position of the figure on the front said he was about to uncoil, and unleash an astonishing amount of power, or so it seemed to me.
Guitarist Allan Holdsworth had departed the band before recording began. His absence left a black whole into which others stepped magnificently. Dave Stewart contributed ‘Land’s End’, a quintessential piece of beautiful English pastoral writing that, like Mendelssohn’s ‘Fingal’s Cave’, evokes the magnificent smashing of the Atlantic rollers against the rocks in his adopted UK county of Cornwall.
The sinister ‘Gothic 17’ came to life largely under Dave’s close engagement with my early first draft. The album contains arguably Jeff Berlin’s greatest set of performances with the band. He offered us his ‘Tower of Power’-ish hymn to a boxing hero, Joe Frazier. His bass solo on ‘Palewell Park’ is the art of the story-teller writ large. Few can deny that had the word ‘genius’ not been invented, this performance would have surely brought it into being.
Many early-career music-generators have only the sketchiest of ideas about what is driving them to forge a living in the occupation. I think I was always a performer/story-teller, wishing to project and interact live with an audience and my colleagues. Not for me the loneliness of the long-distance content-provider, sublimating his personal idiolect in the interest of putting bread on the table. I like to eat, too. I guess I was just lucky to be able to afford to do the projection thing. Whatever the psychology; for me, I chose right.
But I could have chosen wrong, and followed perhaps a less joyful path; gradually going tornado. I guess the takeaway here is: know yourself, before you tangle with the powerful medicine that is music.
#drummer #drums #kingcrimson #yes #jazz #musicimprovisation #music #yes #drumming #billbrufordsearthworks #tamadrums #paistecymbals
![Bruford - Rock Goes To College (Full Show, March 7, 1979)
I was listening to a lot of Joe Morello with the Dave Brubeck Quartet when I was a young wannabe. There were the fabulous Time Out (1959) and Time Further Out (1961) albums, and the hit single Take Five, but also the slightly less known Jazz Goes to College (1954), a live performance of the Quartet’s US college tour. It seemed the perfect title to appropriate many years later for my band Bruford’s DVD from Oxford Polytechnic in the UK: Rock Goes to College.
Annette Peacock is one of those artists whose vocal approach polarises people. You either love her or hate her. Bowie loved her; Peacock allegedly turned down Bowies request that she appear on ‘Aladdin Sane’. But bear in mind where she’s coming from, namely a 1960s New York City background of blues, jazz, avant-garde electronic music, rap and free-form poetry. Check her out on her first album ‘I’m the One’, described by John Fordham of the Guardian as “seismically influential”.
Like all artists, in 1979 she was a work in progress – half-singing, half speaking her way to her own identity. Think Jack Kerouac’s ‘On the Road’, Gil Scott-Heron’s ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’ and Allen Ginsberg’s ‘Howl’. This last one connects you to King Crimson’s ‘Beat’ album, and the track ‘The Howler’ (1982). Before Annette, female singers sang the given melody. After Annette, they could sing whatever the heck they wanted.
It may have seemed like a slick band, but this was our first live gig, and on national TV, too. Mistakes were bound to happen. On Adios A La Pasada [Goodbye to the Past], for example, in the general on-stage chaos, Daves keyboards have a short blackout, either electronic or mental, at 408; Annette inadvertently reverses lines two and three above at 414; and there is a small train wreck at 530 as the band approaches the very climax of the song. To err is human, to forgive is divine.
Jeff Berlin reminds me so much of a young Jaco Pastorius prowling around the stage with the brilliant Weather Report - the same exceptional command of the instrument, the same central position in the fabric of the music. Weather Report had spotted an interesting avenue for development - the (re)integration of world music influences within jazz - that catapulted Jaco to international fame and marginally eclipsed Jeffs fast rising star.
And what of the mercurial and brilliant Allan Holdsworth (R.I.P), about whom I’ve already said too much? He joins Jeff, Annette and Dave in breaking new ground. More than half of this band were doing things that were new – certainly – to British audiences, and probably others as well. My own role – one I consider it a privilege to have been given - was to provide the international platform on which these things might play out.
The drum kit at this show, by the way, like all my ever-changing drum kits, was emblematic of the times and indicative of my recent past history. As I’ve said elsewhere, I was brought up in the days before the heavy marketing of glossy drums, when a ‘kit’ was whatever you thought appropriate to do the job. Mine had had always sprouted unusual noise-making tendrils. Following (Jamie) Muir’s departure from King Crimson, I assigned myself his percussion function and grew two side racks and a rear rack of steel plates, ratchets, blocks, gongs, suspended triangles and a thunder-sheet. The left-hand rack and the thunder-sheet had fallen by the wayside by the time I arrived at this BBC show, but the remaining instruments were integral to the performance. It wasn’t a pretty kit, with its drums coming from at least three different manufacturers, but it looked like its owner meant business.
Making a successful or happy group has much to do with a balance of wants and needs. Sure, we all want it to be a huge success, but what do the individuals need to make them stick around? They all need the basics of course: a steady flow of reliable bookings, medium-quality hotels and clean sheets, and a leader who pays what he said he’d pay when he said he’d pay it. In this band we could manage that.
But we all also needed a musical challenge. I needed a co-writer in Dave Stewart; a young Jeff Berlin needed to bring his unusual talents to an international audience; Allan Holdsworth needed the sort of textural support for his playing that keyboardist Dave Stewart was a master at; and the band needed the stellar soloist, Allan Holdsworth. Hey presto! Everyone’s cool; everyone enjoys the ride while it lasts. Now, I know all this, but it was more luck than judgement that got us there in 1979. Bruford - Rock Goes To College (Full Show, March 7, 1979)](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/bZNJz0722W4/mqdefault.jpg)









