Butch Miles. For me, just a silly name my best friend and I used to throw around in high school. Someone would be talking to us and trying to remember a person's name when we would quickly offer suggestions to "help" jog their memory:
Burt Bacharach? Thor? Butch Miles? Flipper?
Just one of those annoying things we'd do. My friend had discovered "Butch Miles" somewhere and latched onto the name because of its ring. He even mentioned that it was the name of an actual drummer.
Years go by. In a moment of whimsy, I decide to name my bass guitar, but only to mock those who actually name their instruments. Having forgotten that the name represents an actual person, I name my bass "Butch Miles." I get my hands on one of those letter wheels that embosses letters on hard, plastic tape. I punch out the name and stick it to an inconspicuous place on my bass, right next to the bridge below the strings. You have to look right at it to see it.
Years go by. I'm rehearsing with the old church band when the lead guitarist (a long-haired rocker) spots the name.
"Butch Miles?" he says.
"Yeah," I say, a little embarrassed, but loving that someone finally caught it.
"You named your bass 'Butch Miles'?" he asks, genuinely amused.
"Isn't he a jazz drummer?" asks the keyboard player.
"Uh, yeah. I think so," I say.
The musicians in the room are a little perplexed as to why I'd name my electric bass after a jazz drummer of whose existence I am only semiconscious, and the more I think about it the funnier it becomes. Perfect.
Years go by. It is New Year's Eve, and I am downtown at Symphony Center. I have come to ring in the New Year with the Count Basie Orchestra. I open up the program and read: "The Count Basie Orchestra, featuring Butch Miles." Twenty years after tossing out this silly name to anyone trying to remember "the name of that guy," I am about to hear the namesake of my electric bass do that for which he is famous: some serious jazz drumming. A long, very loosely written chapter in my life comes to a close.
As a matter of fact, I had already made some judgments about the drummer before I'd even opened the program and learned his identity. A quick study of his drumset assured me that I would like this guy (I knew the criteria): an old Ludwig set with silver sparkle shells, a standard four-piece (snare, bass drum, one mounted tom, floor tom), two medium-sized crash cymbals on either side, and one big, heavy ride sitting (you guessed it) nice and low between the two toms. "Yes," I thought, "he will swing. He has left himself no other alternative."
And swing he did! As did the band! I was smiling and boppin' my head through the entire two-hour concert. There were a few younger players in the band (I was afraid it would be comprised of a bunch of screaming college know-nothings), but gray hair predominated, and that's a good thing. Despite the criticisms that follow, I would have to say that it was genuine Basie - it was the real thing!
Criticisms:
1. William Basie was not in attendance. He died.
2. Uneven mix between the brass and the reeds; the sax mics could have been a little hotter.
3. Soloists seemed uninspired; there were many awesome ensemble moments, but very few awesome soloist moments. Most solos were a little too "hard bop," perhaps as an alternative to inspiration.
4. Back phrasing was at times executed to such an extreme that it sounded like parody.
5. "I think the bowl haircut is going to make a huge comeback, even though Pete Rose went on to something else. I'm sticking with the bowl." [Side note: This Present Haircut, the Unofficial Biography of Butch Miles, is due in bookstores this fall.]
Hmmm. Butch Miles, drummer. And I thought it was just a silly name.
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