And the flames grow higher...
Remembering Rick Buckler.
I don’t think about The Jam every day, every week even, let alone listen to them that often. I look back on my love of them much like the love in my marriage: it was great while it lasted. I fell in love with The Jam at 13, and they broke up when I was nearing 19. Unlike the girls during that period, they never rebuffed me, never chucked me, never let me down. They were the perfect teenage romance. But life moves on, and life is short, and there is so much more out there to discover. The Jam sang the anthems of my youth, for which I’m eternally grateful, but we all have to grow up.
And so we have done. We’ve all grown up and we’ve got our own lives, and now we’re all the age where we’re trapped in sniper’s alley. One of those snipers – his handle is still anonymous – took down Rick Buckler this week, The Jam’s drummer, at age 69. I was among the many who got to know Rick, and I can confirm that he was one of the good ones.
This week, though, I have been thinking about The Jam every day. Monday morning, the postman brought delivery of two new books published simultaneously: A People’s History of The Jam, and A People’s History of The Clash, both of which I contributed to, though the former quite reluctantly, as there are so many of this type on The Jam already. Tuesday morning I posted pictures of the books on my socials, and later that day, recorded a new Crossed Channels podcast episode with my friend
, on the subject of the great Curtis Mayfield, a conversation which inevitably included The Jam’s cover of Mayfield’s “Move On Up” and how it helped turn a younger generation, including Dan, on to one of the greatest, and yet one of the most historically under-rated, musicians of all time. Barely an hour after we ended that recording, the news started flashing across my wires: Rick Buckler had died.
(Bizarrely, two days later, the day that we posted our episode, Jerry Butler, the singer for Mayfield’s first group, the Impressions, himself passed away. Dan paid tribute to him in a Jagged Time Lapse post here.)
Below the fold – i.e. for paid subscribers - I’m going to share out some previous writings for and about Rick. First up will be an excerpt from Boy About Town, my memoir named after a Jam song and in which the group figure prominently, in part due to my unexpectedly close relationship with them; this will be the full excerpt of my introduction to The Jam, which was cut short in the new People’s History from what I submitted, rather ruining its intent and context.
Next, I will include the interview I conducted with all three of The Jam back in 1979, certainly the funniest interview I ever encountered with a group that were taken all too seriously by all too many (myself often included), and one in which we learned Bruce and Paul’s nick-name for Rick. The interview will be in the form of the original fanzine pages.
Plus, I will share the foreword I was asked to write for Rick Buckler’s autobiography, That’s Entertainment: My Life In The Jam. If I can append to that foreword in 2025, at the time of his passing, it is to emphasize the following qualities:
Rick was indeed a “true gent.” There were “no flies” on him; I never encountered a dark side. This manifested in his autobiography, in which he held back from saying much of what could, and possibly should, have been said about The Jam, and how he was shafted at the end of it. I believe that Rick preferred to see the good in people, and it’s rough that he should pass on before reaching proper old bones; it doesn’t seem like a just reward.
And: Rick was indeed an incredibly underrated drummer. Not under-rated by Jam fans, I should note: in fact, one of the better aspects of this new People’s History is having it confirmed how many fans loved the group as a whole, as a trio, never saw it as a front man and his rhythm section, the way it’s often been written into history. Truthfully, that’s how it was back then.
Perhaps it was the enormity of The Jam’s popularity and standing that caused Rick to eventually form another group after the split, whereas hindsight would surely observe that had he set himself up as a session drummer instead, he might well have had the financial riches and critical rewards he deserved. Wouldn’t you hire him if you could? Rick was incredible hitting those skins. Night after night, he would sit there and not just hold that group together, but propel it forward. Take away Rick (or Bruce), and it could not, was not, would never be the same.
I saw someone on FB post “Scrape Away” as their favourite Rick drumming moment. But there are many, and I gravitate, as I write in my forthcoming second memoir, Teenage Blue, to “Funeral Pyre,”
“…hands down the loudest, angriest, most militant Jam 45 since 1977. Partly a showcase for Weller’s fascination with the Gang of Four’s scratchy, flailing guitars, it was also a rare spotlight for Rick Buckler, who played, with military precision, what sounded like a three-minute drum roll that manifested tension. A refrain of sorts – the song lacked for a chorus – about how “the weak get crushed as the strong grow stronger” left little doubt as to its contemporary commentary. Along with a dark sleeve and equally brooding video, the package was enough to scare Radio 1 from its usual blanket support - and many of the nation’s record buyers with it. The single leapt into the charts at number four the week of their Rainbow show – only to promptly drop down and disappear rapidly.”
If the 7” single version doesn’t do the job of convincing any of you as to Rick’s performance chops, this live clip, which Weller dedicated with all intended irony to the seated business people at an awards dinner in front of them, should seal the deal:
My association with Rick continued somewhat over the years, and it was always more than cordial. In the 2000s, he put together From The Jam, who played the Gramercy Theater in 2008, at a point when the line-up included Bruce Foxton, and a great time was had by all; I watched alongside Clem Burke and Matt Pinfield, the latter of whom was seriously wounded in sniper’s alley himself at the end of January, shortly after he and I caught up on our lives in a typically entertaining phone conversation.
Somewhere in the 2010s, after That’s Entertainment was published came out, I hosted a talk with Rick for Louder Than Words, the annual Manchester-based music-lit fest. I don’t believe it was filmed.
And in 2013, Rick was the lone member of The Jam to attend the launch party for Boy About Town, held at Pretty Green – the Liam Gallagher-fronted clothing line also named after a Jam song – on Carnaby Street. It was a wonderful night, one of the best. Being Rick, he joined us afterwards when we went to the Shakespeare’s Head to continue festivities, though it looks like he was smart and stayed on the water.
Behind Rick is my friend Jaf Jervis, who as lead singer with Zeitgeist was on the Jamming! Records label that I ran with Weller back in 1981-82. To the right of Jafm pint in hand, is my old schoolmate John Matthews, the one I went to see Frank Black with just two weeks ago. In the bottom right corner you can make out my younger son Noel, who busked outside Pretty Green beforehand and made £50 or more, delaying the launch of the party due to his popularity! (If anyone can remind me of who that is on the left of the picture I’d be grateful!)
Just out of shot would be another drummer par excellence, Buddy Ascott, formerly of The Chords, and now of my own band, The Dear Boys. Given our close ongoing friendship, Buddy popped me a note on Wednesday, asking if I was okay with “the terrible news and everything.” Truth is, I’ve been thoroughly immersed in death these last few weeks, taking care of my mother’s funeral, the sale of her house and, as executor of her estate, pretty much everything else. (Her funeral and cremation will be taking place the day after this posts.) Rick’s death just further confirmed it comes to us all, and that while my mum made it out the other side of sniper’s alley to live to the ripe old age of 90 – greatly wounded by dementia though she was - some of us get gunned down. The same happened to Andy Rourke, another thoroughly, truly lovely, uncomplicated person who I came to know, and certainly in later years, much more closely than I could ever claim to really know Rick. I trust they’re making a great rhythm section up there in that great gig in the sky.
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