During the 1980s Rick Buckler owned/ran a studio in Islington, London. A nice, old fashioned, slightly ramshackle place in which he did the engineering himself and, no doubt, fielded endless questions about what he must have done to Paul Weller for him to have been dropped like the last mod fashion for the shiny newness of… some bloke from the Merton Parkas (key single: You Need Wheels, based loosely on the old Max Bygraves song, probably, just replacing hands with wheels).
Over the years I’ve met a few famous, particularly British pop stars and Rick was one of the most decent. No airs and graces, genuinely grateful for the direction in which The Jam had taken his life. He was helpful and not even a bit up himself, although he had every right to be a little bit less humble, perhaps, because The Jam were more than just a musical phenomenon.
As Madness were to Two Tone, so The Jam were to punk, casting into the depths of pre-teen rebelliousness, but also, somehow (and weirdly for a band that started out playing in front of a massive Union Jack) becoming the soundtrack to the lives of working class kids who found themselves joining CND and supporting Rock Against Racism.
Although they recorded six albums it was the run of singles where The Jam found their own, unique voice, leaving Weller’s obvious influences more obscure, hidden under a blanket of pop glory. Going Underground, Strange Town, Down In The Tube Station, That’s Entertainment and so on.
His trademark pressed snare fills, somewhere between the Small Faces’ Kenney Jones and Stax’s Al Jackson
Some were more in hock to The Kinks or The Who than others but the songwriting was from the perspective of a young man in late 1970s Britain and the words and aggressive energy very much of their time. And Buckler, ‘just’ the drummer, powered these classics. His trademark pressed snare fills, somewhere between the Small Faces’ Kenney Jones and Stax’s Al Jackson, riding the song arrangement but managing to keep things school disco danceable, despite the crashing guitars and Weller’s unlovely bark and the often dark lyrics.
One of those strange pop mysteries, up or down there with the what would have happeneds of Steven Stills in The Monkees and Sid Vicious getting a proper job, the end of The Jam and the subsequent total disconnection between Weller and his rhythm section will now remain a mystery. Somehow, made sadder by the fact that The Jam were so beloved of so many people.
I haven’t read Rick’s books (he’s got several autobiog’s out) and can’t really remember the rest of his musical career, such is the drummer’s lot, I suppose. But his death touches me, not least because it feels like another compadre has gone.
Essential information
Main image The Jam by Neil Twink Twinning (wikicommons)
Rick Buckler by crazypink (wikicommons)
