The Hardest Part: Clem Burke, R.I.P.
Bidding farewell to the man behind Blondie's big beat
Man, the hits just keep on coming.
It was bad enough waking to yesterday’s horrific tariff-induced market chaos, but last week’s “Liberation Day” insanity at least had me somewhat braced for continued (if utterly unnecessary) reverberations from the Demander-in-Chief’s kamikaze trade war. But what I was not at all prepared for was the gut-punch of Blondie drummer Clem Burke dying at the way-too-young age of 70. He’d apparently been diagnosed with cancer a while back; but since Clem had kept it under wraps and had kept playing at least through last summer — and since he always seemed pretty ageless — the heartbreaking news came as a shock not only to me, but also to most of his fans, friends and fellow musicians.
The outpouring of love and sadness on social media and elsewhere following the announcement of Clem’s passing was no surprise. Not only was he “the hardest working drummer in show business,” playing and recording with an impressively wide array of artists over the course of his half-century in the music biz — Ramones, Eurythmics, Iggy Pop, Plimsouls, Dramarama, Pete Townshend, Bob Dylan, the Romantics, Bob Geldof, Kiki Dee, Nancy Sinatra, The Adult Net, Robin Zander, and so many, many more — but he had a stellar reputation as a human being, as well. Clem was definitely one of music’s “good guys,” and it hurts like hell to lose another one in a year that’s already taken Rick Buckler, Jerry Butler, Bob Bennett of The Sonics, Garth Hudson, David Johansen and Roy Ayers from us.
Of course, it was behind the Blondie kit that Clem Burke left his initial and most lasting mark. If the hard-riffing “One Way Or Another” was the song that originally made me feel positively disposed towards Blondie (though I love it now, “Heart of Glass” had left me cold during its early 1979 chart run), it was “Dreaming” — and the band’s October ‘79 performance of the song on Saturday Night Live — that turned me into a diehard fan. And for me, a big part of their appeal (aside from Debbie Harry’s heart-stopping combo of beauty, charisma and NYC street suss/sass) was the guy behind the drums. Flailing like a seated-yet-still-whirling, stick-twirling dervish in a bright red suit and mod target-emblazoned white turtleneck, Clem Burke kicked the song’s excitement level straight into the stratosphere with his dynamic playing.
(Sadly, that SNL performance isn’t currently available on YouTube, but this Midnight Special clip from a week or so earlier comes close to it.)
As my fandom grew and I began delving into Blondie’s back catalog and tracking down back-issues of CREEM and Trouser Press that featured the band, Clem increasingly stood out for me with his impeccably-formed Beatles bouffant (supposedly obtained by heating his heavily-sprayed head in the oven) and equally impeccable fashion sense. He had always had a sixties mod kind of thing happening — polka-dot shirts, narrow-lapeled mohair suits, Chelsea boots, etc. — but there was was an appealing playfulness to his personal style that you never saw with the British mods of the “mod revival” era. Chris Stein’s famous pic of Clem and Debbie on 14th Street in 1977 really captures his stylistic essence, as well as how alien both of them looked amid the day-to-day slovenliness of mid/late-seventies America.
Clem Burke was also, of course, a brilliant drummer, and one of my all-time favorites. Pulling off the explosive Keith Moon-meets-Dino Danelli acrobatics of “Dreaming” while also propelling the song forward with perfect pop precision was no mean feat in itself, but the man was a consummate pro who could also easily handle the disco thump of songs like “Heart of Glass” and “Atomic,” the funky grooves of “The Hardest Part” and “Rapture,” the Spectorian dynamics of “X Offender” and “Union City Blue,” the artsy dislocation of “Cautious Lip” and “I Know But I Don’t Know,” and on and on and on. All of which made him intrinsic to Blondie’s sound and international success, and would have been more than enough to install him in my personal Hall of Fame. But to be that good and look that sharp at the same time? C’mon…
Clem always looked really sharp offstage, as well. I crossed paths with him numerous times at various clubs and record stores back in my L.A. days — usually just shy nods were exchanged, as my first encounter with him (in which I’d gushed a little too much about Blondie for his comfort) had unfortunately been kind of awkward — and he was always dressed as if he were ready to play Top of the Pops at a moment’s notice. I remember running into him once in front of Bob’s Donuts at the Farmer’s Market one Sunday morning in the late nineties (he politely asked to get a look at the cover of the new MOJO issue that I was carrying), and even at that early hour he was a vision of low-key rock star splendor in a perfectly-fitting leather motorcycle jacket and black trousers and boots…
I only got the chance to really chat with him once, but it was a magical occasion that I will always carry with me. In October 2016, my then-wife Katie and I — who had just moved to Chicago a few months earlier — went to Schubas Tavern on Southport to see my pals Eddie Munoz (lead guitarist of the Plimsouls) and Josh Kantor (lead organist of the Boston Red Sox) perform with The Split Squad, a band that also featured Keith Strong of The Fleshtones on guitar and no less than the mighty Clem Burke on drums. The show was a non-stop gas from start to finish, and the experience of seeing, hearing and feeling Clem play in such an intimate venue (and from right at the foot of the stage) was pretty freakin’ mind-blowing. And yeah, even in an opening slot — Souther Culture on the Skids was the headliner — at a small club on a weekday night with a band that maybe fifty folks had turned out to see, he gave it the full Clem Burke, because of course he did.
Which, in itself, would/should have been the highlight of my night/week/month. But then at the bar after the show, Eddie waved Clem over so he could introduce me and Katie to him. And he could not have been lovelier — Clem was sweet, friendly, respectful towards Katie, and quite funny in his terse, Bayonne, NJ-accented way. I have no idea whether or not he recognized me from L.A., but I knew well enough by now not to go into Blondie fanboy mode; instead, we somehow got to talking about The Jam, which turned out to be a band that we could fanboy over together.
Clem revealed to me that he’d just recently been to see the About the Young Idea exhibition in Liverpool, and proceeded to whip out his phone and show me every single one of the dozens of photos he’d taken at the exhibition of Jam gig posters, instruments and memorabilia, as well as all the photos he’d taken of historic Beatles sites in Liverpool. (“You have got to get over to Liverpool, man,” he insisted.)
We carried on like that for close to an hour, and I remember thinking to myself, “Man, if you’d told me when I was 18 that someday I’d be geeking out over The Jam and The Beatles with Clem Burke from Blondie, that would have been too surreal a thought to even process.” And it was pretty surreal, but mostly just really nice in that special “meeting of two hardcore anglophile music nerds” kinda way. (I can’t say for sure if he told me what his favorite Jam LP was, but I have a hazy memory of him having a special affinity for In The City, the band’s 1977 debut.)
Finally, it was time to call a Lyft, and after saying our farewells to Eddie, Josh and a few local friends who’d come to the show, Katie and I stepped outside to meet our driver — and ran smack into Clem, who had left the venue a while earlier in order to make some phone calls. “Hey, you kids get home safely, okay?” he cautioned, his voice conveying the sort of paternal warmth that I never would have expected from the same guy who beat the living shit out of his drums on “Detroit 442”. I saw him pause at the door to make sure we got into the right car before he went back into the club.
May you get home safely as well, Clem. Thank you for all the great music, and for the swell hang at Schubas. You will be deeply missed, but your beat will live on. And if I ever make it to Liverpool, I’ll have a pint for ya.
And for those of you who still don’t fully understand how great Clem Burke truly was — and for those of you who do — I highly recommend giving the 2018 documentary Clem Burke: My View a look. It captures his unique playing and personality beautifully…
And you may also dig…
I was at a Taping in Downtown Burbank of The Midnight Special The Magical Night Blondie Hosted!
During one astonishing rock and roll moment, Clem threw a Very High Hat off The Stage!
Who does That?
Like Humphrey Bogart in Play it Again Sam, Clem has always been a mentor in my life, motivating, encouraging, suggesting educating.
When my band Burning Sensations Covered Jonathan's Pablo Picasso and it wound up on The Repo Man soundtrack,
I was forever inspired by the title song being sung by Iggy and Clem Burke slayed on it!
So I was on the same side of an LP as Clem fucking Burke!
One of the three records that I recorded with Stew and The Negro Problem
Clem Burke played on
When he came and sat in on "Our" record release party at The Knitting Factory Hollywood,
we had an amazing conversation about music and Stew. pre Passing Strange Tony Award winning Stew that Clem predicted would happen!
All of this was a precursor, because while I was playing with Stew and Heidi Rodewald, Clem convinced Debbie and Chris to have The Negro Problem open 2 shows for Blondie!
The first one at the Fillmore in San Francisco, and when that show sold out, a poster was generated
so I somehow magically owned a poster from the Fillmore West with Blondie which is an all time bucket list So far beyond my imagination!
and that occurred due to the incredible kindness of Clem Burke!
Later I would play three shows with Clem as a drummer with Dramarama
And one night as part of
The Wild Honey Orchestra at the Alex Theatre, I played keyboards with John Easdale and Mark Englert of Dramarama and of course Clem Ruling
on The Kinks Shangri-LA
https://youtu.be/TeN-gY2ZFU8?si=H9ffvs3FRj5Y4ktJ
In conclusion,
I want it to say that Clem always supported local bands, local scenes and local musicians
and he went out of his way to support those scenes.
He was always my very favorite rock 'n' roll drummer
B Sides Ringo!
A real Mensch
Rock & Roll music will absolutely never sound the same without him
A clip of their SNL performance of Dreaming happened across my IG timeline just now. It's only about half the song. This wasn't my favorite era of Debbie's fashion choices but Clem looks amazing. https://www.instagram.com/p/DIKX3hyoMjQ/
I have a very vague theory that men who are really snappy dressers are either notably cool cats or total douchebags, with little in between. It's a ridiculous theory but you gotta have theories. Anyway, I'm happy to learn from the things people have been writing in the last day or so that Clem seemed to be one of the good guys.