Beyond my circle of musically active friends, I think there are probably very few folks who are not drummers who know the name Rey Washam. Hell, even within the circle, I’d be impressed to find out more than 20% know who he is.
At a point, I could tell who he was by his playing alone. When the Didjits put out an EP after I thought they had disbanded, I jumped on it. They were one of my favorite live bands in the 80s, and I was hopeful for anything new. The songs were okay, but not up to Didjits snuff in my opinion, but the drumming was fantastic.
Clearly human despite the rock-solid time; aggressive and fresh like I hadn’t heard before. Or had I? I didn’t put it all together until much later, but Washam had played on lots of stuff I liked, and I gravitated toward that stuff mainly because of the drumming. Like Helios Creed, for example:
Before I ever heard Helios Creed, I had a Touch and Go compilation record called “God’s Favorite Dog” that featured a couple of songs I couldn’t get out of my head by a band called Scratch Acid. Eventually, I’d get a copy of The Greatest Gift, which has since become one of my all-time favorite records. Here’s a song from both compilations:
Rather non-traditional, but where sometimes jazzy drumming becomes disorienting or off-putting, this insanity seems to always be grounded. The best example of this is Steve Albini’s project called Rapeman. The first time I heard it, I was stymied by the drumming. It’s both brutal and delicate; basic and yet insanely difficult.
If you’ve made it through each of those videos, you’ll likely hear a bit of a connection. Washam has always had a very distinct snare sound, dripping with reverb and echo. He’s also so mechanically on time, it’s hard to believe he’s not being helped out in the studio. The last video is of Scratch Acid tearing up the Touch and Go 25th anniversary party at the Hideout in Chicago. He’s still got it…
