The Landfill Chronicles, Vol. 2 Chapter 1—Charlie Watts and Jim Keltner
Charlie Watts & Jim Keltner — Rock Drummers Go for a Taste of Jazz
The first edition of THE LANDFILL CHRONICLES book published by Cymbal Press arrives in early April, available for purchase through Amazon (see cover photo below). This new story on Charlie Watts collaborating with Jim Keltner embarks on the second LANDFILL volume of conversations with Jimmy Heath, Tracy Chapmen, Jim Hall, Alison Krauss and 20 more in the coming weeks—stories that are forever lost in the landfill but unearthed for new life.
By Dan Ouellette
We’re in Charlie Watts’ suite on the 51st floor of the luxury New York Palace hotel where two of the preeminent drummers of the rock world are hanging out together. They’re here to talk about their collaborative recording, the eponymously titled Charlie Watts Jim Keltner Project. But what do they choose first to discuss? How about the legacy of Louis Armstrong? The pair launches into an unprodded conversation about Pops — his music, his “staggering” discography, his movie career, even those famous photos of him sitting “on the loo” advertising his laxative of choice.
“What an amazing guy,” says Charlie, best known for his four-decade stint as the timekeeper for the Rolling Stones, but also a bona fide jazz aficionado. “Man, recording all those three-minute tracks on shellac — he had a minute to play the head, then go into the song. That tune `Wild Man Blues’ is fantastic. Nobody ever played that well then. It wasn’t enough to play the trumpet the way he did, but when he sang, amazing.”
Jim, another closet jazz buff who’s taking a brief break from touring with Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, shares his enthusiasm. “The next time you’re in L.A., I must take you to meet this guy who has original shellac records by Louis Armstrong,” he says. “You should hear the sound. It’s as if you were standing next to him when he recorded it. You can hear his breath.”
Charlie and Jim are in New York because the former doesn’t much care to do faceless phone interviews. Given that he’s been circling the world since the mid-’60s as a charter member of the Stones, apparently it’s easier for him to catch a flight from England and spend a couple of days in Manhattan chatting up his latest Stones-less endeavor. It also helps to have co-pilot Jim sitting in to field questions on their outing celebrating jazz drummers.
With its pop-percussive drive, dance-floor grooves, techno-world vibe and jazz sensibility, it’s safe to say that the CD on the Higher Octave Music label is the most unusual recording the two have ever worked on. “It is hard to describe,” admits Charlie, who could easily be mistaken for an upper-crust business tycoon. He’s thin with wavy gray hair, dressed impeccably in a hand-tailored dark gray suit and speaks in a dignified British accent. “Ringo Starr, a good friend of ours, called me the other day and asked about it. What’s it like? I couldn’t come up with a simple answer. Rhythmic, yes, but I told him he’d just have to hear it for himself. It is different.”
Jim is equally strapped for words in coming up with a convenient peg for the hyphenated beat excursion. It’s a multi-layered rhythm fest with a range of samples — including tablas, Brazilian berimbau, African vocal choirs and Middle Eastern oud-violin voicings — and live studio performances, featuring Parisian jazz pianist Emmanuel Sourdeix and French drummer Philippe Chauveau, who co-produced the disc with Watts. In addition, there’s Mick Jagger serving up an ethereal piano part on one number and Keith Richards playing guitar on another.
Instead of grasping for descriptors, Jim traces the history of the project’s evolution. It began in 1997 when the two drummers were working on the Stones’ Bridges to Babylon recording sessions in L.A.; it concluded two years later in a studio in Paris where Charlie reshaped and rearranged the tracks electronically.
“It all started when I asked Charlie to lay down drum tracks on some sampled sequences I had been collecting,” notes the husky and bearded Keltner, clad casually in a dark blue flannel shirt and wearing dark sun glasses to mask the tiredness of his tour-weary, sleep-deprived eyes. “I’m always playing around with sounds, but it usually takes me forever to work them into songs. So when Charlie agreed to drum on the sequences, I thought, great, I’ll have these tracks with one of my heroes to put on my shelf. Instead, Charlie in his genius way took the stuff and ran with it.”
Originally the plan was to go to Jim’s house, but since the Stones had studio space already, they decided to keep the proceedings close at hand. “We cleared everyone out and said drummers only — no guitars,” says Charlie, who adds with a laugh, “Much to Ronnie Wood’s chagrin.” They took Jim’s samples, played drum and percussion parts over them, then chopped up the tapes. “As I was listening back, I began to hear the potential for doing some really interesting things, like adding in violin and Arabic oud sections.”
During the dual recording sessions, Charlie and Jim recall that there was a lot of jazz drumming activity in the wind. They went to see Roy Haynes, Billy Higgins and Elvin Jones playing on different occasions in L.A. clubs and Tony Williams had just passed. “We were thinking a lot about the drummers we admired, so Jim’s material became a vehicle for going on a percussion journey in honor of them,” says Charlie, who named all the nine tracks after such classic jazz drummers as Kenny Clarke, Shelly Manne and Max Roach. “The tunes aren’t an overview of their work, and they’re not about me copying them. It’s more about the feeling I get from watching them or listening to them.”
“Charlie is paying homage to jazz drummers but he’s not stealing their licks,” says Jim, who during the sessions played sparingly, adding embellishing touches like toms on the thunderous “Art Blakey” and a vocal synthesizer on the “Tony Williams” requiem (reading excerpts from the drummer’s last interview).
“Charlie’s playing with a jazz mentality, but he goes beyond jazz,” Jim says. ”I have great involvement in this project, but what you’re really hearing here is from the mind of Charlie Watts — the naming of the songs, the segueing, the producing of the overdubs which is crucial. What we loved about this in the early stages was the pure drumming. What Charlie did later is eye-opening.”
Throughout the conversation the pair — in appearance, an odd looking couple who are linked by their timekeeping brilliance — talk shop like old friends.
While sitting on the couch, they discourse on their mutual admiration for jazz. Both agree that its improvisational nature has deeply informed their ability as rock drummers to “follow the moment” in any setting. Jim grew up listening to the music of Miles Davis and John Coltrane. “Jazz was my first love,” he says. “I came up with it and I studied it. That’s my core. When I got older, I even got to play with John Handy and Bobby Hutcherson at the Both/And club in San Francisco.”
Charlie was weaned on Johnny Ray, Perry Como and Nat King Cole music that his parents played in the house. He recalls the first record that grabbed hold of him was alto saxophonist Earl Bostic’s “Flamingo.” Not long after that he heard a record with Chico Hamilton on it. “That’s when I knew I wanted to play the drums,” he says. “I remember the first time I saw him years later. I was at the Blue Note club and there he was. It was like your first love. I nearly died just seeing him. He’s such a lovely guy, and he’s still great.”
Jazz, Charlie is proud to say, is a benchmark for him. “I admire jazz drummers so much. To play in an interesting way behind acoustic instruments, you have to be good. Just listen to Paul Motian with Bill Evans. It’s fantastic.”
“Or what about Jack DeJohnette with Keith Jarrett and Gary Peacock,” Jim chimes in. “God, it’s so amazing.”
With the conversation having turned into a mutual appreciation club for drummers, I ask about the jazz shows the two took in at venues such as Catalina’s and the Jazz Bakery while recording their project in L.A. “When you go to a jazz club, you want to be with somebody who appreciates the music,” says Jim. “Not a lot of my friends are into jazz, so going out with Charlie was a great pleasure. Plus, when the drummers see him in the audience they go the extra mile.”
Jim singles out Elvin Jones and both of them laugh. “Elvin saw me and after the set came over to see me,” Charlie says. “I thought he was going to shake my hand, but he hugged me.” He grins. “He got sweat all over my suit.”
As for their own personal connection, Jim recalls the first time he met Charlie. It was 1971 and he was living in London with his wife when Stones’ supporting cast member Bobby Keys came by and invited him to go on the road. He left with the clothes on his back and experienced the RS road show. “I just watched Charlie play all the time. It was so great.”
Charlie laughs. “Well, the state we played in back then…the things we took to just get onstage,” he says. “A shot of something and then a beer. I remember playing and seeing a whole line of empties at our feet.” He shakes his head in amazement, wondering how the Stones survived the years.
While he’s had his share of rough times with the band, Charlie — who once described his stint as six years of serious gigging and then years of just hanging around — seems content to keep that flame burning. After all, it affords him the opportunity to bankroll his jazz passion (he’s toured a big band and formed ensembles as well as recorded several jazz albums since 1985). And the Stones schedule has given him plenty of open windows for projects like the one with Jim.
However, Charlie notes, don’t count on him and Jim to play any shows to support their recording, especially with his drummer pal back on the road with Neil Young for an extended period after the CSN&Y dates.
As for a rumored new Stones start-me-up whirlwind, Charlie says, “Nah. I’m sure it’s there looming, but I can’t see it. It certainly won’t happen this year. Besides, right now I’m on holiday.”
2000, DownBeat
Addendum: Charlie died in 2021, age 80
