Russell Buddy Helm

Now that I am seventy six years old my mind is taking inventory all on its own initiative, so I wake up about 8:20 in the morning with a song going through my head like some AI sub routine; faithfully reproducing a song from my past just behind my eyeballs as if I were still behind the drumset. This morning it is Robert Palmer singing: “You might as well face it you’re addicted to Love” This was the beginning of chic blue eyed soul music. It was produced in England. America didn’t have the cultural equanimity to come out with such a slick production Plus Robert Palmer was a suave dude. He didn’t look like a typical rock star: he wore a dark suit with a white shirt and a fore-in-hand knotted tie like he was a corporate executive. His hair was prefect but there was still the air of rebellious spirit. But the thing that really sold this song and sent it up the charts was the video. Specifically the women in the video. The all-woman band consisted of ultra hot European models that all dressed and appeared to be identical: tall with legs forever, pulled back hair so tight it made their perfect faces taught with restrained passion. They all moved together even though it was obvious they were not really playing their respective instruments. It was the typical set up; Drums, Bass, Guitar, Keyboards and Robert up front with a microphone on a stand and his professional look. They were thin and emotionless as they went through the motions of swaying back in forth in unison but not together like traditional groups. They were unattached in their own individual worlds while the song cooked in this nasty but polished groove. Robert didn’t have to acknowledge the women. He didn’t really even look at them. It spoke of a time of sensuality grown up, looking for its equal on the world stage. Hot and sophisticated. Not yet New Age, definitely not punk but an aloof ethic that was more seductive than any other song on the charts. I could go on like Lester Bangs at Creem magazine but the thing that hit me was the chemistry of their skimpy minimalist tube dresses, The material was black and sheer. So sheer that as they moved in their disinterested lasciviousness, their private torsos were betrayed by the bright rock video lighting. They all looked identical too. The song was good; a first class mix. But the women sold the video. It was the beginning of pulp rock and it really worked. So today that is what I am listening to in my Juke box of a brain.

“Those Five” house band: Walter Anderson, Buddy Helm, John Rodel, Doug Davenport, Jan Pulver . Madiera Beach, Florida

At the beginning: “Dolphins” by Fred Neil and at the end “Honey Man” by Tim Buckley.17:33 55:22

SUNDAY 4 Pacific time

Drumming Zoom Meetinghttps://us05web.zoom.us/j/9024410218..

.Meeting ID: 902 441 0218Passcode: 053194

donations at: Venmo: Russell Buddy Helm

also: Paypal: buddyhelm@gmail.com

Drumming for Eternity

I have been drumming since I was eight years old- In different locals and in different contexts. Solo drumming and ensemble percussion- Classical orchestral drumming and gut bucket blues drumming. It has always been rewarding. From my current perspective of being seventy four years old the phenomenon of drumming is still a mystery. More so now than ever before I see the need in our lives for an oasis of calm.
Now that the benefits of soothing the Vegus Nerve with low mellow rhythmic tones has been articulated by credentialed clinicians we can allow ourselves to trust this process to save our souls, our minds, our lives and our faith and our culture. The effects of rhythm played in a compassionate manner functions below our intellect or rather outside of our cognitive domain. It has properties that can not be articulated in our zero sum definition of realty, in other words we must surrender to its effect rather than fight it or try to control it. I grew up learning to control my mind and my hands to play drum rudiments in an accepted way that won me medals and status, but at the same time I could only marvel at the natural drummers who could just play. That became my Grail Quest. To drum like I was born to drum. Not like I had to learn it. I am grateful for the teachers I had for showing me ways to play the drums with compassion and heart. This eventually evolved into what had always been a method rejuvenation and salvation from the human condition of struggle and death.
Great drummers are invisible. They function in support of great art and mystical healing whether it is Buddy Rich, John Bonham, Ringo or Jaimo with the Allman Brothers, or Baba Olatunji of Nigeria. Their place in the evolution of consciousness is undeniable. But it is performed with a grace of action that belies its effect and power over people’s lives. Long live the groove!
Thoughts on drumming from Russell Buddy Helm 2023 L.A.

Bill Liggins and me at first Paralounge, Florida. Photo by Bennett Hoffman. Bill was a tremendous healing force in Atlanta. Viet Nam vet turned therapist. All around sweet guy. Miss you Bill.