“Buh-buh-pow, buh-buh-pow… “
It was New Wave’s answer to The Surfaris’ “Wipeout;“ all through the 80s – along with Rush’s “Tom Sawyer” — it was the song that every young drummer aspired to, and what every aspiring drummer tapped school desks and car dashboards along to. I’m going to skip this school-band stuff, kids daydreamed, and go straight to Blondie.
“Buh-buh-pow, buh-buh-pow… “
The rapid-fire fills in “Dreaming” were one spectacular thing, but the feet… that was quite another. No rock drummer of his time had a better, steadier right foot than Clem Burke; watch his hands to your delight, but the secret was his kick drum. Burke, Blondie’s drummer, was a human 808… or a living metronome, with the heart and drive of one of his idols – Keith Moon.
“Buh-buh-pow, buh-buh-pow… “
“Clem was a force of nature, the sort of drummer who would play around town with other bands on his nights off,” recalled Los Angeles-based artist manager Jonathan Wolfson. “He was also a very nice guy; he was so great to talk to. Many years ago, Clem gave my then-young son a quick drumming lesson – out of the blue – in a studio we were hanging out in… I’m so glad, today, that I still have video of it.”
Wolfson, who had managed the one-off supergroup The Empty Hearts (Burke, The Romantics’ Wally Parmar, The Cars’ Elliot Easton, The Chesterfield Kings’ Andy Babiuk) told me that he was as shocked as the rest of the music world to wake up this morning to the news of the legendary drummer’s passing. Burke had kept his cancer close to the vest. His last show with Blondie was in June, but I don’t know when New Jersey native Clement Burke was last on stage. You’d be better off guessing jelly beans in a jar than figuring out just how many acts he had performed with…. today, so many friends are mourning.
“Buh-buh-pow, buh-buh-pow…“
Me, just a fan… I spent the day – and now the night – with my mind a jumble of thoughts and memories. I think of the first time I saw Clem Burke play – with The Plimsouls, on a reunion jaunt many moons ago. One of the sweatiest shows I’ve ever witnessed; everyone walked out of there weighing less than what they did walking in. I’ve recalled the last time I saw him, with the Romantics at the Cherokee Fair. Shortly after dazzling Europe with a revitalized Blondie, Burke’s in the Smoky Mountains’ woods on a cold autumn night. Why? The Romantics needed him, and it was another chance to play. I think of how impossibly cool Blondie was in their heyday… I play “Atomic,” “Union City Blue,” even “Heart of Glass” and once again consider that, despite her incredible voice, in my mind Debbie Harry was just Burke’s accompaniment…. what was that famous line, from Watts to Jagger? “No, you’re my fucking singer!” Something like that. I muse that Burke was among a very few drummers (Chris Frantz, another) who were percussion-paradigms for everything that was to follow in “alternative rock.”
I think of how fucking great and improbable it was for Burke to have the same mod hair-helmet for 50 years, and I conclude that on his last day on earth, at least one young person heard “Dreaming” for the first time and thought, “Holey shiiit.” What a life. What a drummer.
The legendary Clem Burke – who was kind to children – gone at 70.
- Steve Stav, along with cohost Mitch Hurst, is the proprietor of an enlightening Facebook page called The Big Music, which focuses on the music, movies and culture of Generation X. A podcast with the same name and hosts is in the planning stage.
