Post by TM on Apr 15, 2011 14:08:37 GMT -5
From the Drumhead Magazine Issue 6, 2007.
drumheadmag.com
Thanks to Danno for making this happen!
On a recent afternoon, Drumhead traveled west from London to a picturesque enclave near Henley to meet Barriemore Barlow. He talked for hours in his home and at his adjacent recording studio perched on the idyllic, winding banks of the River Thames.
Meeting Barlow, he strikes you as having a self-deprecating wit. He's also a deep conversationalist and is utterly devoid of pretension and ego. Above all, Barlow seems genuinely unaware of the extraordinary myth that surrounds him. Drop his name into a conversation with just about any drummer who appreciates 70s rock and his talents will be discussed in hushed, reverential tones. His jazzy and progressive drumming with Jethro Tull forged an uncharted, eclectic path interwoven with the group's heady mix of hard rock, blues and English folk. In the '70s, Tull were at the height of their powers, proving to be an audacious, enigmatic force both live and on vinyl, with Barrie's contribution to their eclecticism indisputable. The folk-classic fusion of Thick As A Brick (72), the aural complexity of the epic A Passion Play (73) and the intricate song structures/odd time signatures of Heavy Horses (78) are among several 70s-era Tull classic albums which exemplify Barlow at the top of his very compelling game. To top it off, the band released a live album Bursting Out (78), which further galvanized Barlow's upper-echelon rep. Not only was Bursting Out a thoroughly rock-heavy experience, it also proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Barlow could pull off any polyrhythmic studio sprees live, too. Truly innovative, inspired and jaw-dropping rock drumming abounds. No wonder most Tull fans consider the Barlow years as the band's halcyon era. So lauded was he that rock's most deified drum-god, John Bonham, deemed him "England's best rock drummer." Accolades don't come any better than that.
Since leaving Tull more than 25 years ago and playing the occasional session, Barlow's self-imposed semi-retirement has done nothing to tarnish his sublime reputation as a drummer of enormous depth and sheer technical brilliance. Yet he remains unaware of what his fluency behind the kit has meant to a generation of drummers and fans.
Now a doting grandfather at just 58 (he cheekily admits that he's warned his grandchildren to never refer to him as "granddad" because he'd feel positively ancient) and an established proprietor of his own studio, The Doghouse www.thedoghousestudio.co.uk where artists such as Radiohead, Killing Joke, Judas Priest and Coldplay have cut tracks, Barlow admits that after his hiatus he is finally ready to get back to what he does best: playing drums. Yep, Barriemore Barlow is once again a drummer-for-hire and he's ready for the right gig in which to immerse himself. All we can say is: It's about bloody time!
Bursting Out
Jonathan Mover: So, the last thing in the world I ever thought I was going to do was own a studio, and here you are doing the same. How did this come about?
Barriemore Barlow: I was looking for either a room that I could soundproof, or a building I could soundproof so I could rehearse without falling out with the neighbors. When we were looking for houses many years ago, my wife came in here [into the house] and I just went straight into the barn, the stables. I thought, "Yeah, I could do the studio here." We had such a busy schedule in those days we only had two weeks to move out and get it all sorted, so that was the main criteria for getting this place. I soundproofed a room and got a little recording facility, put a little extension here, a little extension there, and it gradually evolved into what it is now. And you know, it's not state-of-the-art, but it works, the vibe is really good. People enjoy recording here, and staying here.
JM: I can see why, it's a beautiful place.
BB: Brought my children up here and all of that. I've been fortunate.
JM: How deep do you get into the studio? Do you engineer?
BB: I used to when I had a straightforward [analog] desk, but not anymore, I can't figure it out [digital]. I have to have somebody to do that.
JM: The obligatory young computer whiz kid. Every studio needs one.
BB: Yeah.
JM: I know the feeling.
BB: It's a bit like having a restaurant and not being able to cook. It's more a PR thing really. I go and tell them a joke a day.
JM: Do you find that most of the drummers who come in to record know your background?
BB: I'm not sure about that. Quite a few of them do, but I never advertise the fact. I distance myself so much from my past. Not that I'm a different person now, but as you get older you get a bit wiser and you get more settled. So, with anything I do, I don't ever refer to my past at all, I just try to do things on the merit of who I am now, which is not as a member of a famous rock band. And I think that's part and parcel of really wanting to distance myself from the day I left that circus, and I wanted to do different music as well. I'd planned before I left to form a band with John Glascock [ Jethro Tull], our old bass player.
JM: Was this Tandoori Cassette?
BB: No, this was before that, while I was in Tull. John had to leave because of a pretty serious heart operation, and he and I became very close. I was in L.A. and I called John to ask him if he wanted to put a band together, with him and David Allen who was the leader of the band that John used to be in, which was Carmen, a sort of Flamenco rock band.
JM: So while you were still in Tull you contemplating your next move?
BB: Exactly. I loved the rhythms because it was all based around twelves, the Spanish rhythms. So you could play threes and fours, and sevens and fives, and you could come out at the end together, hopefully. John said, "Absolutely, I'd love to do that." I called David Allen and made that proposal to him, and we had lunch in LA.
JM: This is not the Daevid Allen from Gong is it?
BB: No. He's changed his name now to David Christian, I think. He's changed his name a few times. Hey, he's a singer.
JM: Say no more. (Both laugh)
BB: David was up for it, John was up for it and I was really excited and enthused about the prospect because we only had two more Tull gigs to do on the American tour. I was gonna come back, and David actually booked his flight that afternoon from L.A. The day after, John died, and I crumbled. I absolutely crumbled. I cried all through the next gig while I was playing, and I felt I was just seeing him onstage, you know?
JM: He obviously wasn't on the road at the time?
BB: Dave Pegg was on the road with us. No, he was back here in England.
JM: Recovering from the operation.
BB: Yeah. I was just completely devastated. He was 27. John had been in the band for four years, and he didn't have the money in his account to pay for the funeral, so I paid for his funeral. That made me very bitter towards Ian [Anderson] and the whole regime [Tull]. I was probably in mourning for about 12 months. I couldn't believe the financial set up that John had with him [Ian].
JM: So it wasn't a situation where he blew all of his money. He just had a really horrible arrangement.
BB: Yeah. I mean he rock n' rolled, but even so, you can't rock n' roll that much. So that was a major, major situation for me to handle. I just resented everything about it all.
JM: Not only are you mourning the loss of your friend, you're harboring a lot of anger against 'the regime' as well.
BB: Financially we lived under a bit of a cloud. It was fantastic to get the opportunity to make a good living doing what you love, and to play with Ian and the challenge of the music in those days. I felt completely blessed. Then the reality of what happened to John, because there was a massive regime change after Jeffrey [Hammond-Hammond] left, and John fell foul of that.
Sweet Dream
As a consequence I didn't listen to any Tull for 25 years. I just couldn't. It was only last year, in fact when there were some re-mastered albums. I actually got hold of a re-mastered A Passion Play, and one of the guys that was recording in the studio came over one afternoon and said, "I've no idea
what Tull were about. Play me something." So I played him this.
JM: "Spectacles?" ["The Story of the Hare that Lost His Spectacles"]
BB: Yeah, and after five minutes he looked at his watch and he said, "Oh I've really got to shoot." (Both laugh). Then I just put a couple of cushions here, put them on my big speakers there, and just listened to the whole thing twice round.
JM: So you really enjoyed it.
BB: I did, I loved it. But it was because I hadn't listened to it in so long and I had completely fresh ears. You listen to something and think, "Oh, wow, I remember that and it's pretty good." God knows if I could play it now, because I stopped playing.
After Tull, I did Tandoori Cassette with this guy Zal Clemenson [guitar] of the Alex Harvey Band, a fantastic guitarist, very inspirational. We just ensconced ourselves in the studio which was a quarter of the size it is now and just got a load of stuff out of our system. Then we recruited a keyboard player named Ronnie Leahy. Ronnie "never-play-the-same- thing -twice" Leahy, who I could have regularly strangled, 'cause you'd work something out, he'd come to play at a gig and it would be completely different. And Charlie Tumahai was our bass player.
JM: From Be Bop Deluxe.
BB: Exactly. I fronted the whole thing financially. The rules were, if you heard it before, don't play it. John Kolodner (famous A&R rep) quite liked it. He came to watch us do the showcases. I just wanted there to be complete transparency business-wise, as opposed to the previous situation I was in, which seemed like there was a smoke screen surrounding finances. We got some gigs, but sadly, we didn't record anything. It was fun, but it was costly and I had to pull the plug on that. Then I did a few sessions, and I did a couple of tours with people. Increasingly it felt to me like there was no real recognition of the role that the drummer has in terms of equity, man for man. I felt it wasn't right. And the whole industry was changing.
During the '80s, there were drum machines everywhere. With Tandoori Cassette I had a Roland drum machine triggered by Simmons pads and a piccolo snare drum. I could play in and out of all this stuff, which is really great fun. Some people would be intimidated by a drum machine. Actually, it's like having a best mate there with you.
Anyway, that was really good fun but I was pushing it all financially myself. It costs you to play and it costs you to equip, and all of that business. At some point you just have to be realistic.
JM: The well's going to run dry.
BB: The well's going to run dry, that's what happened. After that, I stopped playing for about 12 years.
Too Old To Rock 'n' Roll
JM: You just put your sticks down?
BB: Put the sticks down, yep, and concentrated on the studio. And I found this band, managed them, got them a deal with Atlantic Records, and that was going pretty good until Nirvana came out and just changed the whole face of music. Artistically fantastic, but for this band, Kiss Of The Gypsy, it was the kiss of death.
JM: They pulled the plug on a lot of people back then.
BB: Absolutely. Atlantic, quite understandably, dropped all the Warrants and the Wingers and this whole genre of music just got the tap turned off. Hey, I dug Nirvana, big time.
JM: It was refreshing when I first heard Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Jane's Addiction. It was a breath of badly needed fresh air. So what made you pick up the sticks again?
BB: I bumped into this guy in the corner shop in the village, a little Australian bloke. And I knew that Julian Mendelson [producer] lived in the village, and I was getting my newspaper and 1 said, "Are you Julian Mendelson?" He said, "I am." I said, "Well I've got a studio down the road." He said, "Well come on then, let's go have a look." So with that he came to look at the studio, skinned a massive joint up, and we were best buddies from that point on. And then he got this Australian guitarist called Roland Chadwick that he was about to record, and he invited me to play on his album.
JM: Was it like riding a bike, you just got right back on?
BB: Well, riding a bike at a slower tempo. But you can over-do it and then your muscles seize up. Years ago I made that mistake. In the middle of an American tour with Tull, we had three days off in L.A. and this friend of mine took me to his gym with all the Nautilus equipment. I was seeing all these jocks on the machines and I thought "I can do that." So I did it, and then I could hardly walk! At the next gig, Louie Bellson and Chester Thompson were on the side of the stage watching me play like some bloody robot, it was so embarrassing.
JM: Big mistake.
BB: Absolutely, you live and learn, at your own cost. But Louie thought I had fast feet. (Laughs) It was because I was running away from the gig!
So, Julian invited me to play with this guy [Roland Chadwick] who's a classical guitarist trying to make a blues album. I did that a couple of years ago and it reminded me of the joy of playing.
JM: Hopefully a step toward you playing full time again?
BB: Well, I'd love to play full time again.
Living In The Past
JM: How was it working with Yngwie Malmsteem on Rising Force.
BB: Yngwie said, "I want you to play how you used to play." I said, "Well I don't want to play like that anymore." That was mad, that was nuts doing that.
JM: Some great drumming on that record. Though I can't say I’m a big fan of the music, but boy did I like the chops, your chops. I bought it for that reason alone.
BB: Northern European, white, it's classical, but it's got no groove.
JM: It's interesting that you worked with both Jimmy Page and Robert Plant.
BB: The reason that I played with Jimmy was I did a track with this guy John Miles, on Transition.
JM: I remember Rebel from many years ago.
BB: That's right. Well, I got to know John because they supported us on the European tour. Then after Tandoori Cassette, he invited me to do a tour and make an album. I ended up getting in the deal because I knew the people. That was the first time I crossed the divide. I just turned this rhythm around, played it backwards. In fact it was really a rip off of the guy from The Cars.
JM: You mean playing the snare drum on the one in "Just What I Needed."
BB: Yeah, exactly, great track. We were playing in this club in Ibiza and Jimmy [Page] happened to be there. We got to meet him afterwards [sic], and then a few months later he was at his recording studio, which is down-river from me about eight miles. Jason [Bonham] was drumming with him, and he asked Jason to turn it around like I'd done, and Jason said, "Well, I don't know if this is quite right. Just call Barlow." I was just on the point of stopping playing when this call came through.
So I borrowed the local butcher's van, put the kit in and went down to Jimmy's. It was exciting, it was intimidating and it was bizarre in its own way, because Jimmy came out and played three different things. First he played the track to us and the bass player had been working with him for the entirety of the album, so he was really relaxed with Jimmy. I'd never played with Jimmy, and I thought, "Bloody hell, this is tricky, this drops a beat here, and this that and the other, oh God." And Felix Krish [bassist] said, "Play it again Jim." So he played it again, and I thought, "Oh no, I shouldn't be here," because I didn't understand it.
JM: It certainly couldn't have been more complex than Tull?
BB: I couldn't follow it [emphatically]. Then Felix said, "Play it one more time." This is a seven-minute piece. At the end of it, Felix said, "Jim, you played it three times, each time it's been completely different." Jimmy said, "Has it ?" (Laughs) So that was a bit more relaxing.
JM: Made you feel a little better.
BB: A little better, yeah. It's just like being an athlete I suppose. If you haven't run around the track in a few years, everybody's going to overtake you. So it's that sort of feeling.
Anyway, I'm playing on a couple of tracks with Jimmy, which I was flattered to be invited, but one of them I thought was an instrumental. Then he goes and puts vocals on it. Chris Farlowe is singing on one of the tracks. So had I known that, I wouldn't have played what I played.
Bungle In The Jungle
JM: I've read that had you known all the vocals and melodies that Ian planned for the music, you wouldn't have played what you played. If that's the case, I'm glad you didn't know.
BB: I used to get bored. The way I used to think about it was if you've established eight, sixteen bars of something, you've sort of established that. It's just like saying the same thing over again. I've never wanted to say the same thing. I think it's from that point of view, because I've said that there, so you've got that, now here's something else.
JM: Yeah, it's a nice position to be in, to be able to do that.
BB: It is, but I think the music lent itself to that, and Ian used to give me free rein, whereas he used to tell everybody pretty much what to play. By the time we were doing that, I’d kind of gotten my head around what was going on.
JM: You're extremely humble, which I think is wonderful. I'm not sure if you realize how amazing you are as a drummer. Your handling of odd time and polyrhythm’s is pretty spectacular and on top of that your chops are f-----g ferocious.
BB: You haven't seen me play now. I'm about good for a Valetta or a waltz.
JM: You were speaking before about sevens and fives... Obviously it's a simple deduction they equal twelve, but did you know a lot of what you were doing?
BB: Only so much as the only thing I ever counted, or felt the need to count, was when we used to do a piece from Beethoven's "Ninth" and there were some tweaky rhythms there. That's the only time I felt obliged to count to myself. You close your eyes and you've got to be right in there to lay it down for the other guys, but be confident enough to lead it as well.
JM: So the fills in the intro of "No Lullaby," especially the second and fourth, you're just feeling it?
BB: Yeah.
JM: Amazing, studio and live. Speaking of live, "Conundrum" is without a doubt, one of the all-time best rock drum solos ever recorded.
BB: Goodness me. I don't know. I get embarrassed when you make that... you've obviously listened to it and made a deal of it. At the time I thought, "Check it out, this is pretty hot." But I was a bit of a punk sort of bloke. I had a punk attitude approach to things, before the Sex Pistols. I would always say something when maybe it was best not to. But I think that when your adrenaline's going at the end of a show and something's being discussed, I was never shy about coming forward. But there again, we lived under a fairly oppressive regime. I use that word again because there was rarely a compliment. I don't want to be controversial here but we were made to feel grateful for the opportunity. It's sort of like an oppressive thing and it's only years and years later, when you can actually feel there was certain significance to what you were bringing to the party, as opposed to being constantly dismissed.
JM: It's not that far removed from what we were talking about last night at dinner. I remember one night coming off stage, feeling really good and getting nothing except attitude from the artist, because he was unhappy with his gig. I looked at him and simply said, "I can be replaced." It sucks, and it's not a nice situation to be in. Growing up, many of us admired players like you and bands like Tull, yet the reality is so far from the fantasy. You dream about being in that kind of situation, thinking it would be perfect. Then one day you find yourself there, and it's another story.
BB: But you know, the early days when I first joined Tull, it was more like that, and I think you can hear it in the music.
Passion Play
JM: Are you a schooled player? Did you study?
BB: No. I learned all by ear.
JM: I think that's one thing that the English have over the Americans. We were talking last night about Fairport Convention, Gerry Conway and especially Dave Mattacks, and how they handle odd time so well. A lot of the influence in Tull comes from that English/British background of folk music where you had all sorts of twos, threes, fives, put together for the lyric, the vocal, to tell a story. And if it happened to be 31 syllables, or beats long, it made sense, which makes it easier to play.
BB: I also think there's an effort to disguise it so that it is not... it doesn't come to the end of that bar and then there is another bar, it sort of rolls over a little bit. I have this theory because I think that the significant difference and it's not just drummers, it's musicians in general - I think the biggest significant difference, and I've been saying this for a long time, between American players and the rest of the world, particularly, well...notwithstanding the African nations, that's a whole other thing. But everybody's got good time, every American player, like the Annuals who're in here now.
When I'm in the studio overseeing something, the second thing I do is watch their feet to see whether they're tapping in time. All of the Annuals tap in time. Every American player I come across plays in time, and I put that down to the marching bands in the colleges. Just to be able to walk and play, it gives you that ambidextrous capability. Young bands come through here and they can't even play in time. I've got producers ripping their hair out, they say, "What am I going to do about this?" I say, "Well, give them a click track, slow it down and let them spend the whole afternoon playing their parts to a click track." Because it's the space in between the notes that they just don't understand.
JM: Are you and Clive still friendly?
Young BB: Oh yeah.
JM: Of the numerous Tull drummers, did you ever have the chance to meet up with any and/or see them play?
BB: Yes, I saw Tull play last summer with Doane [Perry], very nice chap.
No Lullaby
JM: You mentioned last night that you had actually seen Ian recently and had dinner with him.
BB: Yes, we've sort of buried the hatchet. But the hatchets were out only a couple of years ago when there was talk of a DVD being made. We had a letter from Ian describing the percentage of the deal, which included, and I kid you not - if you weren't in shot, you didn't get paid, and I quote, "Flailing drumsticks or fingers on fretboards will not qualify. You have to be full in shot," which I rallied vehemently against. You know what a showman Ian is so he just took all the shots. We crossed swords then. John [Evan], Jeff and I were all of the opinion and we just refused to sign it.
JM: So the DVD didn't come out?
BB: It came out but I don't think we we're even featured in it. But there was a music royalty he split, but he divided it between visual and music in terms of royalties. I can't help thinking "How 'bout some simple recognition of what this band played?" With all deference and respect to the incarnations after that line up, they were mediocre, I'm sorry to say.
JM: No apologies. I agree, there's no comparison. I've seen Tull several times and I remember the Heavy Horses and Stormwatch tours - that was one spectacular band. You're the only drummer I've seen give Terry Bozzio a run for his money.
BB: I had to follow Terry on a couple of tours when UK opened for us. My God, you should have seen him at rehearsals and at sound-checks playing "The Black Page." F-----g hell!
JM: Yeah, he's pretty serious.
BB: We did two tours together; Terry would be at the side of the stage for the entirety of our show. He's such a lovely, warm, tactile bloke.
JM: Very genuine.
BB: Very. I get goose bumps just thinking about that. He's such a lovely man, and what a fantastic player.
But God, if you have to follow him you've gotta have your shit together.
JM: You had yours together and that was quite a tour for any drummer to see: the two of you guys back to back.
Getting back to Ian, you had a nice dinner and buried some hatchets. Any possibility of a reunion in the future?
BB: When I listened to A Passion Play a couple of years ago, I thought, "Wouldn't it be great just to do a couple of shows, get that band back together?" No subsequent incarnation of the band has gone anywhere near that music. For diehard Tull fans I understand that's a favorite. I'd relish the challenge personally, but sadly John Evan doesn't play anymore, he can't play anymore due to his fingers tensing up.
JM: Tendonitis?
BB: Yeah, I mentioned it to Jeffrey as well, and I've mentioned it to John, who's my oldest friend, he's like my brother. And Jeffrey is as well. You know, it started with Ian, John, Jeffrey and I, before Tull was Tull. They were all together as an entity and I was this real punk that turned up from Birmingham you know looking for a gig. Sort of full of myself a bit, I suppose.
JM: Lucky us.
BB: I would relish that opportunity because it's a big part of me. It got slated when we toured it around, we were very brave just to lay it on people. Start the show with, well "We'll just give you A Passion Play." They'd never heard it before. I admire Ian for many reasons, not least of which is his musicianship, but also I think he's brave.
He doesn't always make the right decisions, but he's brave enough to stand by them.
Conundrum
JM: So, no immediate plans for a reunion, but you're back into playing. Where do you go from here?
BB: Get me a gig. The ideal gig for me would be slightly funky, slightly jazzy, slightly f------ g mad.
I envy those guys when I see them on the Glastonbury Stage. I think, "Hey, I could do a lot of that," and I'd love to do it, but I'm the last one to sell myself.
You're the only person I've spoken to about this, ever! It's because I know from the things that you've said, of where you're at as a player. You're a top player, and even though you're a top player, you've been screwed over, and you've done other things in the business to make it, you know? But at the same time you're like me, you'll just play for nothing, for the love of it.
JM: Absolutely. I'm guilty of that.
BB: But it's when you play for nothing, for the love of it, and you see someone walk away with something that you've generated, that's the killer part of it. But, I'd love the gig with Kosheen, I love Kosheen. And I love Eels.
JM: I would imagine you've gotta have a nice little circle of friends to let know that you're back up and running, playing again.
A New Day
JM: You mentioned selling this place.
BB: I am selling the house, but not the studio. The place is too big for me to handle, so I'm splitting the plot. I just got plans in and hope they are going to be approved, to extend the studio. So there'll be some living accommodations for me. That's the plan.
Just as a jobbing player, it's very difficult to make a living, so you're obliged to look for other forms of income streams.
JM: And hopefully try to keep it within the realm of the music industry so you feel like you are still doing what you love to do.
BB: Exactly. And that's what I've been struggling to do for the last 20 years really.
JM: By the way, do you still have the blue Vistalites?
BB: No. One day I found myself in the top of the studio, in the eaves of the building and it was just full of drums. I wanted to use that room, so I put them all in the back of a truck, took them down to the biggest drum store in London, opened the back, and said, "How much for the lot ?" They offered me a quarter of what I thought. I said "Ok."
JM: Did you keep the snare drum?
BB: Kept the snare drum, oh yeah. That was a brass 400 that I bought in a junk shop. Not a junk shop... what do you call it... a pawn shop. I've still got it.
JM: This has been really wonderful. Thank you very much for your time.
BB: No, not at all, I'm flattered that anyone's remotely interested.
JM: Oh, very much so. I appreciate your being so candid. This industry is full of facades, and a lot of people are reluctant to talk about them.
BB: And it's changing drastically. People ain't selling records anymore because people can download them.
But hey, we've done pretty well out of it, for Christ's sake.
drumheadmag.com
Thanks to Danno for making this happen!
In The Dog House with Barriemore Barlow
On a recent afternoon, Drumhead traveled west from London to a picturesque enclave near Henley to meet Barriemore Barlow. He talked for hours in his home and at his adjacent recording studio perched on the idyllic, winding banks of the River Thames.
Meeting Barlow, he strikes you as having a self-deprecating wit. He's also a deep conversationalist and is utterly devoid of pretension and ego. Above all, Barlow seems genuinely unaware of the extraordinary myth that surrounds him. Drop his name into a conversation with just about any drummer who appreciates 70s rock and his talents will be discussed in hushed, reverential tones. His jazzy and progressive drumming with Jethro Tull forged an uncharted, eclectic path interwoven with the group's heady mix of hard rock, blues and English folk. In the '70s, Tull were at the height of their powers, proving to be an audacious, enigmatic force both live and on vinyl, with Barrie's contribution to their eclecticism indisputable. The folk-classic fusion of Thick As A Brick (72), the aural complexity of the epic A Passion Play (73) and the intricate song structures/odd time signatures of Heavy Horses (78) are among several 70s-era Tull classic albums which exemplify Barlow at the top of his very compelling game. To top it off, the band released a live album Bursting Out (78), which further galvanized Barlow's upper-echelon rep. Not only was Bursting Out a thoroughly rock-heavy experience, it also proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Barlow could pull off any polyrhythmic studio sprees live, too. Truly innovative, inspired and jaw-dropping rock drumming abounds. No wonder most Tull fans consider the Barlow years as the band's halcyon era. So lauded was he that rock's most deified drum-god, John Bonham, deemed him "England's best rock drummer." Accolades don't come any better than that.
Since leaving Tull more than 25 years ago and playing the occasional session, Barlow's self-imposed semi-retirement has done nothing to tarnish his sublime reputation as a drummer of enormous depth and sheer technical brilliance. Yet he remains unaware of what his fluency behind the kit has meant to a generation of drummers and fans.
Now a doting grandfather at just 58 (he cheekily admits that he's warned his grandchildren to never refer to him as "granddad" because he'd feel positively ancient) and an established proprietor of his own studio, The Doghouse www.thedoghousestudio.co.uk where artists such as Radiohead, Killing Joke, Judas Priest and Coldplay have cut tracks, Barlow admits that after his hiatus he is finally ready to get back to what he does best: playing drums. Yep, Barriemore Barlow is once again a drummer-for-hire and he's ready for the right gig in which to immerse himself. All we can say is: It's about bloody time!
Bursting Out
Jonathan Mover: So, the last thing in the world I ever thought I was going to do was own a studio, and here you are doing the same. How did this come about?
Barriemore Barlow: I was looking for either a room that I could soundproof, or a building I could soundproof so I could rehearse without falling out with the neighbors. When we were looking for houses many years ago, my wife came in here [into the house] and I just went straight into the barn, the stables. I thought, "Yeah, I could do the studio here." We had such a busy schedule in those days we only had two weeks to move out and get it all sorted, so that was the main criteria for getting this place. I soundproofed a room and got a little recording facility, put a little extension here, a little extension there, and it gradually evolved into what it is now. And you know, it's not state-of-the-art, but it works, the vibe is really good. People enjoy recording here, and staying here.
JM: I can see why, it's a beautiful place.
BB: Brought my children up here and all of that. I've been fortunate.
JM: How deep do you get into the studio? Do you engineer?
BB: I used to when I had a straightforward [analog] desk, but not anymore, I can't figure it out [digital]. I have to have somebody to do that.
JM: The obligatory young computer whiz kid. Every studio needs one.
BB: Yeah.
JM: I know the feeling.
BB: It's a bit like having a restaurant and not being able to cook. It's more a PR thing really. I go and tell them a joke a day.
JM: Do you find that most of the drummers who come in to record know your background?
BB: I'm not sure about that. Quite a few of them do, but I never advertise the fact. I distance myself so much from my past. Not that I'm a different person now, but as you get older you get a bit wiser and you get more settled. So, with anything I do, I don't ever refer to my past at all, I just try to do things on the merit of who I am now, which is not as a member of a famous rock band. And I think that's part and parcel of really wanting to distance myself from the day I left that circus, and I wanted to do different music as well. I'd planned before I left to form a band with John Glascock [ Jethro Tull], our old bass player.
JM: Was this Tandoori Cassette?
BB: No, this was before that, while I was in Tull. John had to leave because of a pretty serious heart operation, and he and I became very close. I was in L.A. and I called John to ask him if he wanted to put a band together, with him and David Allen who was the leader of the band that John used to be in, which was Carmen, a sort of Flamenco rock band.
JM: So while you were still in Tull you contemplating your next move?
BB: Exactly. I loved the rhythms because it was all based around twelves, the Spanish rhythms. So you could play threes and fours, and sevens and fives, and you could come out at the end together, hopefully. John said, "Absolutely, I'd love to do that." I called David Allen and made that proposal to him, and we had lunch in LA.
JM: This is not the Daevid Allen from Gong is it?
BB: No. He's changed his name now to David Christian, I think. He's changed his name a few times. Hey, he's a singer.
JM: Say no more. (Both laugh)
BB: David was up for it, John was up for it and I was really excited and enthused about the prospect because we only had two more Tull gigs to do on the American tour. I was gonna come back, and David actually booked his flight that afternoon from L.A. The day after, John died, and I crumbled. I absolutely crumbled. I cried all through the next gig while I was playing, and I felt I was just seeing him onstage, you know?
JM: He obviously wasn't on the road at the time?
BB: Dave Pegg was on the road with us. No, he was back here in England.
JM: Recovering from the operation.
BB: Yeah. I was just completely devastated. He was 27. John had been in the band for four years, and he didn't have the money in his account to pay for the funeral, so I paid for his funeral. That made me very bitter towards Ian [Anderson] and the whole regime [Tull]. I was probably in mourning for about 12 months. I couldn't believe the financial set up that John had with him [Ian].
JM: So it wasn't a situation where he blew all of his money. He just had a really horrible arrangement.
BB: Yeah. I mean he rock n' rolled, but even so, you can't rock n' roll that much. So that was a major, major situation for me to handle. I just resented everything about it all.
JM: Not only are you mourning the loss of your friend, you're harboring a lot of anger against 'the regime' as well.
BB: Financially we lived under a bit of a cloud. It was fantastic to get the opportunity to make a good living doing what you love, and to play with Ian and the challenge of the music in those days. I felt completely blessed. Then the reality of what happened to John, because there was a massive regime change after Jeffrey [Hammond-Hammond] left, and John fell foul of that.
Sweet Dream
As a consequence I didn't listen to any Tull for 25 years. I just couldn't. It was only last year, in fact when there were some re-mastered albums. I actually got hold of a re-mastered A Passion Play, and one of the guys that was recording in the studio came over one afternoon and said, "I've no idea
what Tull were about. Play me something." So I played him this.
JM: "Spectacles?" ["The Story of the Hare that Lost His Spectacles"]
BB: Yeah, and after five minutes he looked at his watch and he said, "Oh I've really got to shoot." (Both laugh). Then I just put a couple of cushions here, put them on my big speakers there, and just listened to the whole thing twice round.
JM: So you really enjoyed it.
BB: I did, I loved it. But it was because I hadn't listened to it in so long and I had completely fresh ears. You listen to something and think, "Oh, wow, I remember that and it's pretty good." God knows if I could play it now, because I stopped playing.
After Tull, I did Tandoori Cassette with this guy Zal Clemenson [guitar] of the Alex Harvey Band, a fantastic guitarist, very inspirational. We just ensconced ourselves in the studio which was a quarter of the size it is now and just got a load of stuff out of our system. Then we recruited a keyboard player named Ronnie Leahy. Ronnie "never-play-the-same- thing -twice" Leahy, who I could have regularly strangled, 'cause you'd work something out, he'd come to play at a gig and it would be completely different. And Charlie Tumahai was our bass player.
JM: From Be Bop Deluxe.
BB: Exactly. I fronted the whole thing financially. The rules were, if you heard it before, don't play it. John Kolodner (famous A&R rep) quite liked it. He came to watch us do the showcases. I just wanted there to be complete transparency business-wise, as opposed to the previous situation I was in, which seemed like there was a smoke screen surrounding finances. We got some gigs, but sadly, we didn't record anything. It was fun, but it was costly and I had to pull the plug on that. Then I did a few sessions, and I did a couple of tours with people. Increasingly it felt to me like there was no real recognition of the role that the drummer has in terms of equity, man for man. I felt it wasn't right. And the whole industry was changing.
During the '80s, there were drum machines everywhere. With Tandoori Cassette I had a Roland drum machine triggered by Simmons pads and a piccolo snare drum. I could play in and out of all this stuff, which is really great fun. Some people would be intimidated by a drum machine. Actually, it's like having a best mate there with you.
Anyway, that was really good fun but I was pushing it all financially myself. It costs you to play and it costs you to equip, and all of that business. At some point you just have to be realistic.
JM: The well's going to run dry.
BB: The well's going to run dry, that's what happened. After that, I stopped playing for about 12 years.
Too Old To Rock 'n' Roll
JM: You just put your sticks down?
BB: Put the sticks down, yep, and concentrated on the studio. And I found this band, managed them, got them a deal with Atlantic Records, and that was going pretty good until Nirvana came out and just changed the whole face of music. Artistically fantastic, but for this band, Kiss Of The Gypsy, it was the kiss of death.
JM: They pulled the plug on a lot of people back then.
BB: Absolutely. Atlantic, quite understandably, dropped all the Warrants and the Wingers and this whole genre of music just got the tap turned off. Hey, I dug Nirvana, big time.
JM: It was refreshing when I first heard Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Jane's Addiction. It was a breath of badly needed fresh air. So what made you pick up the sticks again?
BB: I bumped into this guy in the corner shop in the village, a little Australian bloke. And I knew that Julian Mendelson [producer] lived in the village, and I was getting my newspaper and 1 said, "Are you Julian Mendelson?" He said, "I am." I said, "Well I've got a studio down the road." He said, "Well come on then, let's go have a look." So with that he came to look at the studio, skinned a massive joint up, and we were best buddies from that point on. And then he got this Australian guitarist called Roland Chadwick that he was about to record, and he invited me to play on his album.
JM: Was it like riding a bike, you just got right back on?
BB: Well, riding a bike at a slower tempo. But you can over-do it and then your muscles seize up. Years ago I made that mistake. In the middle of an American tour with Tull, we had three days off in L.A. and this friend of mine took me to his gym with all the Nautilus equipment. I was seeing all these jocks on the machines and I thought "I can do that." So I did it, and then I could hardly walk! At the next gig, Louie Bellson and Chester Thompson were on the side of the stage watching me play like some bloody robot, it was so embarrassing.
JM: Big mistake.
BB: Absolutely, you live and learn, at your own cost. But Louie thought I had fast feet. (Laughs) It was because I was running away from the gig!
So, Julian invited me to play with this guy [Roland Chadwick] who's a classical guitarist trying to make a blues album. I did that a couple of years ago and it reminded me of the joy of playing.
JM: Hopefully a step toward you playing full time again?
BB: Well, I'd love to play full time again.
Living In The Past
JM: How was it working with Yngwie Malmsteem on Rising Force.
BB: Yngwie said, "I want you to play how you used to play." I said, "Well I don't want to play like that anymore." That was mad, that was nuts doing that.
JM: Some great drumming on that record. Though I can't say I’m a big fan of the music, but boy did I like the chops, your chops. I bought it for that reason alone.
BB: Northern European, white, it's classical, but it's got no groove.
JM: It's interesting that you worked with both Jimmy Page and Robert Plant.
BB: The reason that I played with Jimmy was I did a track with this guy John Miles, on Transition.
JM: I remember Rebel from many years ago.
BB: That's right. Well, I got to know John because they supported us on the European tour. Then after Tandoori Cassette, he invited me to do a tour and make an album. I ended up getting in the deal because I knew the people. That was the first time I crossed the divide. I just turned this rhythm around, played it backwards. In fact it was really a rip off of the guy from The Cars.
JM: You mean playing the snare drum on the one in "Just What I Needed."
BB: Yeah, exactly, great track. We were playing in this club in Ibiza and Jimmy [Page] happened to be there. We got to meet him afterwards [sic], and then a few months later he was at his recording studio, which is down-river from me about eight miles. Jason [Bonham] was drumming with him, and he asked Jason to turn it around like I'd done, and Jason said, "Well, I don't know if this is quite right. Just call Barlow." I was just on the point of stopping playing when this call came through.
So I borrowed the local butcher's van, put the kit in and went down to Jimmy's. It was exciting, it was intimidating and it was bizarre in its own way, because Jimmy came out and played three different things. First he played the track to us and the bass player had been working with him for the entirety of the album, so he was really relaxed with Jimmy. I'd never played with Jimmy, and I thought, "Bloody hell, this is tricky, this drops a beat here, and this that and the other, oh God." And Felix Krish [bassist] said, "Play it again Jim." So he played it again, and I thought, "Oh no, I shouldn't be here," because I didn't understand it.
JM: It certainly couldn't have been more complex than Tull?
BB: I couldn't follow it [emphatically]. Then Felix said, "Play it one more time." This is a seven-minute piece. At the end of it, Felix said, "Jim, you played it three times, each time it's been completely different." Jimmy said, "Has it ?" (Laughs) So that was a bit more relaxing.
JM: Made you feel a little better.
BB: A little better, yeah. It's just like being an athlete I suppose. If you haven't run around the track in a few years, everybody's going to overtake you. So it's that sort of feeling.
Anyway, I'm playing on a couple of tracks with Jimmy, which I was flattered to be invited, but one of them I thought was an instrumental. Then he goes and puts vocals on it. Chris Farlowe is singing on one of the tracks. So had I known that, I wouldn't have played what I played.
Bungle In The Jungle
JM: I've read that had you known all the vocals and melodies that Ian planned for the music, you wouldn't have played what you played. If that's the case, I'm glad you didn't know.
BB: I used to get bored. The way I used to think about it was if you've established eight, sixteen bars of something, you've sort of established that. It's just like saying the same thing over again. I've never wanted to say the same thing. I think it's from that point of view, because I've said that there, so you've got that, now here's something else.
JM: Yeah, it's a nice position to be in, to be able to do that.
BB: It is, but I think the music lent itself to that, and Ian used to give me free rein, whereas he used to tell everybody pretty much what to play. By the time we were doing that, I’d kind of gotten my head around what was going on.
JM: You're extremely humble, which I think is wonderful. I'm not sure if you realize how amazing you are as a drummer. Your handling of odd time and polyrhythm’s is pretty spectacular and on top of that your chops are f-----g ferocious.
BB: You haven't seen me play now. I'm about good for a Valetta or a waltz.
JM: You were speaking before about sevens and fives... Obviously it's a simple deduction they equal twelve, but did you know a lot of what you were doing?
BB: Only so much as the only thing I ever counted, or felt the need to count, was when we used to do a piece from Beethoven's "Ninth" and there were some tweaky rhythms there. That's the only time I felt obliged to count to myself. You close your eyes and you've got to be right in there to lay it down for the other guys, but be confident enough to lead it as well.
JM: So the fills in the intro of "No Lullaby," especially the second and fourth, you're just feeling it?
BB: Yeah.
JM: Amazing, studio and live. Speaking of live, "Conundrum" is without a doubt, one of the all-time best rock drum solos ever recorded.
BB: Goodness me. I don't know. I get embarrassed when you make that... you've obviously listened to it and made a deal of it. At the time I thought, "Check it out, this is pretty hot." But I was a bit of a punk sort of bloke. I had a punk attitude approach to things, before the Sex Pistols. I would always say something when maybe it was best not to. But I think that when your adrenaline's going at the end of a show and something's being discussed, I was never shy about coming forward. But there again, we lived under a fairly oppressive regime. I use that word again because there was rarely a compliment. I don't want to be controversial here but we were made to feel grateful for the opportunity. It's sort of like an oppressive thing and it's only years and years later, when you can actually feel there was certain significance to what you were bringing to the party, as opposed to being constantly dismissed.
JM: It's not that far removed from what we were talking about last night at dinner. I remember one night coming off stage, feeling really good and getting nothing except attitude from the artist, because he was unhappy with his gig. I looked at him and simply said, "I can be replaced." It sucks, and it's not a nice situation to be in. Growing up, many of us admired players like you and bands like Tull, yet the reality is so far from the fantasy. You dream about being in that kind of situation, thinking it would be perfect. Then one day you find yourself there, and it's another story.
BB: But you know, the early days when I first joined Tull, it was more like that, and I think you can hear it in the music.
Passion Play
JM: Are you a schooled player? Did you study?
BB: No. I learned all by ear.
JM: I think that's one thing that the English have over the Americans. We were talking last night about Fairport Convention, Gerry Conway and especially Dave Mattacks, and how they handle odd time so well. A lot of the influence in Tull comes from that English/British background of folk music where you had all sorts of twos, threes, fives, put together for the lyric, the vocal, to tell a story. And if it happened to be 31 syllables, or beats long, it made sense, which makes it easier to play.
BB: I also think there's an effort to disguise it so that it is not... it doesn't come to the end of that bar and then there is another bar, it sort of rolls over a little bit. I have this theory because I think that the significant difference and it's not just drummers, it's musicians in general - I think the biggest significant difference, and I've been saying this for a long time, between American players and the rest of the world, particularly, well...notwithstanding the African nations, that's a whole other thing. But everybody's got good time, every American player, like the Annuals who're in here now.
When I'm in the studio overseeing something, the second thing I do is watch their feet to see whether they're tapping in time. All of the Annuals tap in time. Every American player I come across plays in time, and I put that down to the marching bands in the colleges. Just to be able to walk and play, it gives you that ambidextrous capability. Young bands come through here and they can't even play in time. I've got producers ripping their hair out, they say, "What am I going to do about this?" I say, "Well, give them a click track, slow it down and let them spend the whole afternoon playing their parts to a click track." Because it's the space in between the notes that they just don't understand.
JM: Are you and Clive still friendly?
Young BB: Oh yeah.
JM: Of the numerous Tull drummers, did you ever have the chance to meet up with any and/or see them play?
BB: Yes, I saw Tull play last summer with Doane [Perry], very nice chap.
No Lullaby
JM: You mentioned last night that you had actually seen Ian recently and had dinner with him.
BB: Yes, we've sort of buried the hatchet. But the hatchets were out only a couple of years ago when there was talk of a DVD being made. We had a letter from Ian describing the percentage of the deal, which included, and I kid you not - if you weren't in shot, you didn't get paid, and I quote, "Flailing drumsticks or fingers on fretboards will not qualify. You have to be full in shot," which I rallied vehemently against. You know what a showman Ian is so he just took all the shots. We crossed swords then. John [Evan], Jeff and I were all of the opinion and we just refused to sign it.
JM: So the DVD didn't come out?
BB: It came out but I don't think we we're even featured in it. But there was a music royalty he split, but he divided it between visual and music in terms of royalties. I can't help thinking "How 'bout some simple recognition of what this band played?" With all deference and respect to the incarnations after that line up, they were mediocre, I'm sorry to say.
JM: No apologies. I agree, there's no comparison. I've seen Tull several times and I remember the Heavy Horses and Stormwatch tours - that was one spectacular band. You're the only drummer I've seen give Terry Bozzio a run for his money.
BB: I had to follow Terry on a couple of tours when UK opened for us. My God, you should have seen him at rehearsals and at sound-checks playing "The Black Page." F-----g hell!
JM: Yeah, he's pretty serious.
BB: We did two tours together; Terry would be at the side of the stage for the entirety of our show. He's such a lovely, warm, tactile bloke.
JM: Very genuine.
BB: Very. I get goose bumps just thinking about that. He's such a lovely man, and what a fantastic player.
But God, if you have to follow him you've gotta have your shit together.
JM: You had yours together and that was quite a tour for any drummer to see: the two of you guys back to back.
Getting back to Ian, you had a nice dinner and buried some hatchets. Any possibility of a reunion in the future?
BB: When I listened to A Passion Play a couple of years ago, I thought, "Wouldn't it be great just to do a couple of shows, get that band back together?" No subsequent incarnation of the band has gone anywhere near that music. For diehard Tull fans I understand that's a favorite. I'd relish the challenge personally, but sadly John Evan doesn't play anymore, he can't play anymore due to his fingers tensing up.
JM: Tendonitis?
BB: Yeah, I mentioned it to Jeffrey as well, and I've mentioned it to John, who's my oldest friend, he's like my brother. And Jeffrey is as well. You know, it started with Ian, John, Jeffrey and I, before Tull was Tull. They were all together as an entity and I was this real punk that turned up from Birmingham you know looking for a gig. Sort of full of myself a bit, I suppose.
JM: Lucky us.
BB: I would relish that opportunity because it's a big part of me. It got slated when we toured it around, we were very brave just to lay it on people. Start the show with, well "We'll just give you A Passion Play." They'd never heard it before. I admire Ian for many reasons, not least of which is his musicianship, but also I think he's brave.
He doesn't always make the right decisions, but he's brave enough to stand by them.
Conundrum
JM: So, no immediate plans for a reunion, but you're back into playing. Where do you go from here?
BB: Get me a gig. The ideal gig for me would be slightly funky, slightly jazzy, slightly f------ g mad.
I envy those guys when I see them on the Glastonbury Stage. I think, "Hey, I could do a lot of that," and I'd love to do it, but I'm the last one to sell myself.
You're the only person I've spoken to about this, ever! It's because I know from the things that you've said, of where you're at as a player. You're a top player, and even though you're a top player, you've been screwed over, and you've done other things in the business to make it, you know? But at the same time you're like me, you'll just play for nothing, for the love of it.
JM: Absolutely. I'm guilty of that.
BB: But it's when you play for nothing, for the love of it, and you see someone walk away with something that you've generated, that's the killer part of it. But, I'd love the gig with Kosheen, I love Kosheen. And I love Eels.
JM: I would imagine you've gotta have a nice little circle of friends to let know that you're back up and running, playing again.
A New Day
JM: You mentioned selling this place.
BB: I am selling the house, but not the studio. The place is too big for me to handle, so I'm splitting the plot. I just got plans in and hope they are going to be approved, to extend the studio. So there'll be some living accommodations for me. That's the plan.
Just as a jobbing player, it's very difficult to make a living, so you're obliged to look for other forms of income streams.
JM: And hopefully try to keep it within the realm of the music industry so you feel like you are still doing what you love to do.
BB: Exactly. And that's what I've been struggling to do for the last 20 years really.
JM: By the way, do you still have the blue Vistalites?
BB: No. One day I found myself in the top of the studio, in the eaves of the building and it was just full of drums. I wanted to use that room, so I put them all in the back of a truck, took them down to the biggest drum store in London, opened the back, and said, "How much for the lot ?" They offered me a quarter of what I thought. I said "Ok."
JM: Did you keep the snare drum?
BB: Kept the snare drum, oh yeah. That was a brass 400 that I bought in a junk shop. Not a junk shop... what do you call it... a pawn shop. I've still got it.
JM: This has been really wonderful. Thank you very much for your time.
BB: No, not at all, I'm flattered that anyone's remotely interested.
JM: Oh, very much so. I appreciate your being so candid. This industry is full of facades, and a lot of people are reluctant to talk about them.
BB: And it's changing drastically. People ain't selling records anymore because people can download them.
But hey, we've done pretty well out of it, for Christ's sake.
