TeRRy Bozzio - DRUM! Magazine

The Trials Of 

TeRRy 

Bozzio 

a sTOry Of 

self discOvery 

frOm Big TO small 

Two SideS of 

Peter erskine 

TOday’s Big Band drummers 

Butch Miles, 

Jeff Hamilton, 

Ali Jackson & 

John Riley 

PRESENTS 

redefining The Jazz 

rhythm section 

Tony 

williams 

On “nefertiti” 

Carl 

Palmer 

asia 

reunited 

dreamKiT 

d r u m s masters 

Of maple 

c y m b a l s ufiP 

sticks Trueline 

$5.99 uS $5.99 CAn 

Issue seven Autumn 2008 

6 0 2 6 4 8 5 7 4 1 0 5 0 8 

diSPlAy unTil oCToBeR 20, 2008

of a 

terry bozzio 

By Jared Cobb Photos By Robert Downs 

There’s something about her eyes that stirs him. 

They’re too beautiful, too blue, too focused, too 

comforting. She observes him intensely from her 

chair, her humble yet distinguished perch, as he 

sits slumped on the couch across from her drawing a series 

of geometric mandalas – a supposed introspective roadmap 

of sorts – on an unyielding piece of paper. There have been 

plenty of tears shed on this couch. A few laughs, some 

Complex 

screaming, several fits of mania. But it’s all been pure and 

honest, all hard work, digging in the subconscious, searching 

for complex answers in a complex mind. 

26 TRAPS Autumn 2008 trapsmagazine.com Autumn 2008 TRAPS 27

Things shouldn’t be like this. He shouldn’t be 

here, in this room with this therapist and her 

stunning intellect and her equally stunning red hair 

and their shared Catholic guilt and the baggage it 

entails. He’s out of place among the soft, floral décor 

and the passive, safe tones, the womb-like security. 

He belongs outside in the harsh L.A. sunshine, 

weaving through the socially elite, bobbing among 

the morally bankrupt, hiding behind dark shades 

and pretending not to sweat through tight leather 

pants. Someone might recognize him out there. That 

would be so much easier than this. 

But he presses on. There must be answers 

somewhere, although they weren’t where they 

should’ve been, in the money and the fame. He’d 

found his success – first with a blossoming San 

Francisco gigging scene, then with the genius of 

Frank Zappa, the curious Missing Persons, and now 

with the undeniable Jeff Beck – so why did he feel so 

empty, insecure, and anxious? The money, the car, the 

beautiful wife, the fame and friends, and yet nothing 

but pain. 

“Count and measure,” she tells the drummer. “Look 

closer and things are not as they seem.” 

So he tries and it helps but the fear still overwhelms 

him. He feels an all-consuming need to do something, 

his own thing. To emerge from the shadows of the 

ultra-famous, to abandon his reliance on other 

less dependable people without forsaking his own 

socioeconomic comforts. It’s a desire he would soon 

learn to ignore, but for now it eats him alive. What if it 

all falls apart? 

Then she speaks, drawing his attention up from the 

burdened paper into those penetrating blue eyes. 

“How did you get all those premier gigs in San 

Francisco?” she asks. 

“Well, the phone rang,” he replies plainly. 

“And the job with Frank Zappa?” 

“The phone rang.” 

“And with Missing Persons and Jeff Beck?” 

“The phone rang.” 

She perks up and he follows, both of them now peaked 

in anticipation of revelation. 

“I think I have it figured out for you,” she proclaims. 

Finally, an answer among all the painful questions. 

“What? What is it?” he begs. 

“Just don’t change your phone number.” 

And to this day, nearly 20 years later, Terry Bozzio 

can still be reached at that same number. And his phone 

keeps ringing. 

terry bozzio 

Chapter 1 a fully DevelopeD CharaCter 

Today he is quite possibly our world’s most complex, 

unique, and inventive drummer, but in 1950 Terry Bozzio 

began life just like the rest of us. His San Francisco 

upbringing was fairly simple and music was a part of his 

life from the beginning. Mom once sang in the high school band and 

still loves to flex her voice, while dad, a salesman by trade, was a 

child prodigy accordion player. 

“There was always music around 

the house,” recalls Bozzio, looking 

younger than his 58 years. Dressed in 

his omnipresent black jeans and black, 

long-sleeved T-shirt, he smells faintly 

of organic soap. His hands seem ten 

years older than his smooth, pasty face, 

while his words are crisp and articulate, 

thoughtful and intelligent. “My 

dad loved to play accordion, but he 

had a messed-up teacher who would 

hit him and didn’t understand that he 

was memorizing instead of reading and 

things like that. So it was kind of twisted 

and made him rebel against music. 

“When my relatives would gather for 

a Sunday meal they would prod him to 

play the accordion and he would always 

kind of refuse. Eventually he would 

take it out and begrudgingly play a few 

notes, and the whole room would get 

quiet. People would cry. This power of 

how he could entrance an audience and 

enrapture them and move them emotionally 

was part of my upbringing, and 

I think if I have any abilities towards 

that it comes from my dad.” 

While the ability to move his audience 

would come in time, first young 

Bozzio needed to discover the drums. 

Black-and-white 1950s TV provided his 

first window into the world of percussion, 

and after watching child drummers 

like Ricky Ricardo and Cubby O’Brien, 

Bozzio began playing on household items 

– nesting tables and the like – to simulate 

the Latin sounds of Tito Puente. 

“Then when I was ten I received a set of 

bongos and proceeded to take them apart 

and create my own makeshift drum set 

with some loose-leaf paper and a rubber 

band as the snare on the small one and 

the block underneath the other one as the 

tom. Then I used a piece of string to tie 

up a crumpled high-voltage sign and that 

was my hi-hat. And I played using broken 

arrows from my archery set.” 

The young Bozzio didn’t know that he 

was constructing the first of what would 

become many legendary drum kits that 

are more machine, more art, more sculpture 

than mere instrument. He’d play 

these makeshift contraptions to surf 

drum music like The Ventures and The 

Beach Boys. Then The Beatles played 

on The Ed Sullivan Show and the musical 

world changed forever. 

“That was it. I told my dad I had to have 

drum lessons. Ringo had a small kit and 

he sat high so you could see him play. So 

I sat in front of a mirror we had in the living 

room and I emulated his movements. 

By the time I took my first drum lessons 

I was ready to go because I had practiced 

it in my mind and mimed it so much. My 

teachers told me I was four or five weeks 

ahead as far as coordination and that stuff. 

I started with a pad and some sticks and 

books and went along with my two teachers 

for about six months. 

“I learned all the basic rudiments, and 

Syncopation by Ted Reed, and especially 

Stick Control by George Stone. Then I 

played in garage bands throughout high 

school, just kind of playing by ear and 

having fun, that whole ’60s revolution 

was happening. I went from The Beatles 

into The Stones and then the San Francisco 

thing. I remember being able to go 

down the street – Jefferson Airplane, 

Big Brother And The Holding Company, 

Country Joe And The Fish, were like 

local bands – and hearing these bands 

for like, $2.50 just blocks away. They 

would play at the Fairfax Pavilion and I 

could hear it from my house.” 

Then it was off to the College Of 

Marin as a music major for some formal 

instruction and a rude awakening. 

The music scene quickly switched 

from heavy bands like Hendrix, Cream, 

and Led Zeppelin, into more singer/ 

songwriters like Elton John and David 

Bowie. Popular music became infinitely 

28 TRAPS Autumn 2008 trapsmagazine.com trapsmagazine.com Autumn 2008 TRAPS 29

less interesting for drummers, so Bozzio 

turned to jazz and classical music. It 

was a massive leap that would challenge 

him for the rest of his career. 

“I really felt like I was at square one. 

It was one of those complete ‘collapseand-build-yourself-back-up’ 

moments. 

My teacher, Chuck Brown, changed my 

hand technique, which kind of crippled 

me. And I was used to playing loud and 

letting go, and it’s hard to groove at a 

soft level – that’s definitely a cultivated 

art. Reading music, playing with other 

instruments, it was a real growing process. 

We had to have an understanding 

of all these instruments, and for a kid 

who didn’t know the notes on a staff, it 

was very difficult. I was waking up at 

six in the morning and practicing for 

two hours before school. 

“I had no idea what I was getting into, 

I just loved the drums. But my teachers 

sensed my feeling and my abilities, and 

by then I had some chops, so I could 

play some paradiddles to raise the eye of 

the band director, who was a drummer. 

Somehow I got the key to the percussion 

department and was the first-call drummer 

there, and they used me for all these 

different situations. 

“For example, Dr. Wolf, who was a 

theory teacher and an organist, had a 

baroque ensemble, and we’d take his 

antique kettle drums with the turning 

keys and put together a brass quintet and 

a group of vocalists and do a little Bach 

as well as his own arrangements and 

baroque stuff. Then there was the Marin 

Symphony and Napa Symphony, just 

different situations like that. I was always 

chosen for the faculty/students combination 

concerts, and it was all part of a great 

experience. Then there were some jazz 

classes as well, so I learned that and met 

people like Mark Isham and Pete Maunu, 

who are dear friends and great musicians. 

“I credit them for my sensibilities in 

the quality of jazz, the originality and 

innovation side of it. They really turned 

me on to who was who, who meant 

something, and who was kind of an ‘also 

ran.’ It was Miles and Coltrane and their 

schools, and then branches off from that. 

terry bozzio 

They’d explain to me, ‘Here’s this guy 

doing that, and yeah it’s hip, but three 

years ago this guy was doing this and he’s 

the one who started it.’ And I realized 

who was more or less a fashion player 

and who was the real deal. I guess little 

things like that stick in my mind and 

make me want to follow those kinds of 

hero figures, the real innovators. 

“I always use this quote, but I’ll use it 

again: ‘The day Miles played the trumpet 

is the day trumpet playing changed. The 

day Coltrane picked up a horn, that’s the 

day saxophone playing changed.’ I’m 

drawn to those kinds of guys who really 

did something different way before their 

time, and ultimately the rest of the world 

kind of caught up. So those are some deep 

“I was so nervous I felt faint and weak 

and could hardly practice” 

motivations there. They kind of stick with 

me and surface at various times, and I follow 

them to the best of my ability.” 

Bozzio was already honing his instincts 

to one day become an innovator like those 

he admired. But first he had to graduate 

from college, which took a little time 

thanks to those pesky non-electives. Then 

he had to avoid Vietnam by fasting himself 

down to a bodyweight unfit for duty. 

“I fasted for a week because I was very tall 

and thin for my age. So I got out for six 

months for being underweight, and during 

that time Nixon ended the draft. Suddenly, 

I relaxed. 

“I had been in college doing all this 

stuff and learning their curriculum, 

which didn’t have anything to do with 

playing the drum set, which is what I 

really wanted to do. I basically decided 

to take six months off and practice, then 

maybe I’d go on to San Francisco State or 

something like that. And during that time 

I turned professional and never looked 

back. I got a gig with the rock musical 

Godspell, and that lasted for 13 months. 

I was able to move out of my parents’ 

house and make a living and collect 

unemployment. I started to meet people 

and do sessions around San Francisco.” 

This is when the phone starts ringing. 

“One day the phone rang and Luis 

Gasca – who is a great Latin trumpet 

player who used a lot of great guys 

around San Francisco – offered me a 

gig. That same day another guy called 

and said he wanted me to audition for 

Azteca. So I got both those gigs. The day 

I auditioned for Azteca, Eddie Henderson 

was in the band and he said, ‘I don’t 

know if you’re going to make it with 

this band, but I want you for my own 

band and this weekend we’re playing in 

Los Angeles. I’ll pay you $400 and it’s 

going to be you and Eric Gravatt – two 

drummers and all these really great 

musicians from San Francisco.’ 

“I was blown away. I got to play 

with one of my hero drummers, Eric 

Gravatt from Weather Report. It ended 

up going great. I think he was maybe 

not so open about it at first. In those 

days the idea of two drummers was not 

such a popular thing. There was one 

drummer in a band. And I don’t think 

I was at the place where I could see the 

possibilities of making music with two 

drummers, at that age. We basically 

played together and it was very free. 

The tunes were very open, so it was 

just anything goes. There wasn’t a lot 

of stepping on toes. It was pretty ‘out’ 

music, so we had a lot of fun. Eric is 

still one of my main influences.” 

The experience was a highlight in 

a highlight year for Bozzio’s budding 

career. “I had a really great period of a 

year or so there where every day I was 

doing something totally different. Working 

sessions and jingles and stupid things 

like that to make some dough or playing 

with Azteca or a band with Mel Martin 

called Listen with Andy Narell and Dave 

Creamer, who played with Miles on 

On The Corner, and Richard Waters, the 

inventor of the Waterphone. And then 

me and Patrick and Mike Knock were 

playing with Eddie Henderson or with 

Mike Knock’s group and the Jim Dukey 

Big Band, which was a hip big band, 

at the Great American Music Hall. So 

every day I had this really wide variety of 

things to play: Latin, jazz, free stuff, electronic 

stuff, whatever came up. 

“That was just the scene at the time. 

And that seemed to dry up as soon as I 

left town. The club scene and all that just 

seemed to dry up in the mid-’70s. There 

weren’t the same kind of opportunities 

and there haven’t been since. It sucks 

really. But I was okay. That was right 

about when I got the call from George 

Duke telling me Zappa was auditioning, 

asking if I wanted to come down.” 

drums 

dW Vertical Low Timber 

(Olive ash burl finish) 

10" x 6" snare; 12" x 5.5" solid shell 

Craviotto snare; 8" x 3" piccolo toms (14); 

8" x 6" tom; 10" x 6" toms (4); 10" x 8", 12" x 

6", 12" x 8" and 13" x 9" toms; 14" x 10" and 

16" x 12" floor toms. 

Lower Level 

(foot operated drums, left to right) 

8" x 3" tom; 10" x 12" tom; 12" x 12" tom; 

12" x 25" Paul E. wooden-headed djembe; 

Paul E. “Mooneye” wooden-headed 

tambourine; 16" x 14" tom; 20" x 12" bass 

drum; 20" x 16" (main left bass drum); 20" 

x 16" (main right bass drum); 24" x 14" bass 

drum; 18" x 16" bass drum; 18" x 16" bass 

drum; 20" x 8" bass drum. 

terry bozzio’s traps 

CYmBALs 

sabian radia (Terry Bozzio signature) 

upper Level - Left To right 

21" ride; 16" China below 8" China; 18" 

China below 10" China; 14" China w/12" 

crash stack below 7" China w/6" crash 

stack; 16" China w/14" crash stack below 

8" China w/7" crash stack; 18" China w/16" 

crash stack below 10" China w/8" crash 

stack; 20" China w/18" crash stack below 

12" China w/10" crash stack; 20" China 

below 12" China; 22" China below 14" 

China; 36" Wuhan gong. 

Lower Level – Left To right 

10" hi-hats; remote China hi-hat, 16" over 

18"; Spoxe hi-hat (Roto Tom castings taken 

apart and used as hi-hat); 12" hi-hats; 12" 

heavy bell under 8" cup chime; 11" heavy 

bell under 7.5" cup chime; 10" heavy bell 

under 7" cup chime; 9" heavy bell under 

6.5" cup chime; 26" B-20 radia gong (used 

as a ride cymbal); 20" flat ride w/20" 

China stack under closed 14" flat bottom 

hi-hats, under 8" Factory Metal Cross 

Crasher under Pete Englehardt ribbon 

crasher; 20" crash w/20" novo-type China 

stack; remote China hi-hat, 16" over 20"; 6" 

and 7" closed, flat-bottom mini hi-hats on 

either side of 10" snare. 

PErCussION 

roland SPD-15 HandSonic, Glockenspiel, 

LP tambourine, Vic Firth/Emil richards 

jingle stick. 

Terry Bozzio also uses Vic Firth Terry 

Bozzio signature sticks, AKG mikes, 

randall may miking system, Attack Terry 

Bozzio signature heads, dW pedals, PdP 

rack, m-Audio electronics. 

sCALE OF ThE sETuP 

Terry Bozzio’s drums are tuned to 

different notes so that it is as musical as 

it is rhythmic. The 13 piccolo toms are 

chromatically tuned from high C to C 

an octave lower (drums descend a half 

step in pitch from upper left down to 

lower right at a diagonal angle). Another 

grouping includes four 10" x 6" toms 

descending in the same pattern, tuned 

to G, F, E, and D. All of the foot-operated 

instruments, including a djembe, are 

chromatically tuned as well, including 

the main bass drums with a tuning of Bb 

for the left kick and G for the right. 


Chapter 2 

the genius, the weirDness, 

the legenD, the gig 

terry bozzio 

What follows has become almost laughable legend in 

the drumming community: the much gossiped about 

Bozzio/Zappa audition. Some versions put Bozzio 

as the only drummer with enough cajones to ever 

attempt an audition with the mad genius. Other versions have Bozzio 

flying, muscles bulging and red cape aflutter, into the rehearsal space 

and literally blowing people’s minds. The reality, as usual, lies somewhere 

in between. So, from the man’s own mouth: 

“I took the risk and flew down to L.A. 

It was an absolute cattle call audition. 

Scary. One of the scariest things I’ve 

ever done. But thank God I did it. I had 

never heard Zappa’s music, but I was 

listening to Billy Cobham and thinking 

I could copy his licks, pretty complex 

stuff, and I should be able to snag this 

‘rock gig’ and make some money. I 

always had this thought in the back of 

my mind, this either/or thing. Either 

I’m going to do like Miles and do my 

own thing and say, ‘Fuck everybody 

else,’ or I’m going to try and make a 

lot of money so then I can do my own 

thing and say, ‘Fuck everybody else.’ 

Zappa turned out to be both things at 

once, and much more. 

“The audition was this: They told me 

I’d have to read, do some memoriza- 

tion, play in 19, and stuff like that. I flew 

myself down under the condition that if 

I got the gig they’d cover my airfare, if 

not, it was on me. I was on unemployment 

at the time and the expense and 

the risk was a little iffy for me, but I 

just took the plunge. Two or three days 

before, I bought two of his records, Live 

At The Roxy and Apostrophe, and it scared 

me. It scared me to the point where I 

couldn’t sleep. I was so nervous I felt 

faint and weak and could hardly practice. 

My legs were rubbery. It was so 

impressive and so difficult. 

“You had Chester Thompson and 

Ralph Humphrey, who were phenomenal 

drummers, exchanging furious 

drum solos. You had this incredibly 

complex music going on. Then you had 

the sheer volume of memorization of 

this stuff. It was all just overwhelming. I 

had no idea this music even existed, that 

this guy could do all of this – and crack 

me up at the same time. 

“So I went down there, took a cab to his 

rehearsal space on Sunset and Gower. 

It was this big warehouse kind of thing 

and he had a stage with sound and lights, 

and I had never seen anything like it. 

They had Anvil cases! I didn’t know 

what those were. I was used to those 

fiber cases that if you left in the rain they 

would warp and rot. Pages of the most 

difficult music were spread out all over 

the stage. There were probably about 50 

drummers hanging around. 

“There were two huge Octoplus 

drum sets up on the stage. So, to save 

time, one drummer would tweak one 

kit while the other drummer auditioned. 

And there was the very imposing 

Zappa, Duke, and Tom Fowler 

there. And the drummers were just 

dropping like flies. Frank was just, 

‘Nope, sorry. Next.’ So I thought there 

was no way in hell I’d get this gig. I 

started asking the local guys if they 

had heard about a Weather Report 

audition because I’d heard they were 

looking for another drummer and since 

I was in L.A. I could kill two birds with 

one stone and not go back with my tail 

between my legs. They told me Chester, 

Frank’s drummer, left Frank to go play 

with Weather Report. So that made 

it even more nerve wracking for me 

because that was my hero band and I 

figured if this guy just left to go to my 

hero band, what the hell am I thinking? 

“So I watched a couple guys fail and 

the only thing that came to mind was 

that nobody was listening. Either they 

couldn’t read or they weren’t listening. 

And I thought, ‘Okay, I can go up 

there and try to play with this guy and 

listen like a good jazzer does.’ You don’t 

just play and flaunt your chops, you go 

and play and listen and play with the 

guy. So I went up there and had to read 

‘Approximate,’ which is a really difficult 

piece of music with changing meters and 

odd superimpositions. When I came to 

the 13-tuplet I stopped and explained to 

them that I knew what it was and could 

play it slow, even though I couldn’t sightread 

it. Then we played it up to tempo 

and I fluffed my way through it. 

“Then Frank tested my memorization 

with this piece, I forget the name 

of it, but it’s a series of fives with some 

other odd times thrown in and it cycles. 

He explained the structure and I did 

the best I could playing through that 

structure. The next thing was playing in 

19, which I could do because I’d heard 

Billy Cobham’s 4/4-plus-three, sixteen 

thing that Duke would solo over. So we 

had some fun and burned a little fusion 

and I had fun doing that. Then he said, 

‘Okay, let’s play a blues shuffle to check 

out your feel.’ So I just did the best I 

could at swinging on a blues shuffle and 

he goes, ‘Okay, I really like the way you 

w i t h frank Zappa 

(on rykodisc): Zoot Allures; Joe's 

Garage: Acts II & III; Orchestral 

Favorites; Sheik Yerbouti; Sleep 

Dirt; Baby Snakes; Thing-Fish; You 

Can't Do That on Stage Anymore, 

Vol. 1, 3, 4, and 6; Läther; Cheap 

Thrills. 

(on Smilin’ ears): Titties And Beer. 

(on beacon island): Tiny Nightmares. 

(on barking Pumpkin): Shut Up ’N Play 

Yer Guitar. 

(on Siesta): Supplement Tape. 

(on Digital Sound): Quaudiophiliac. 

w i t h BreCker Bros. (on Arista): 

Heavy Metal Be-Bop. 

w i t h frank Zappa & 

Captain Beefheart (on rykodisc): 

Bongo Fury. 

w i t h 10CC (on Mercury): Deceptive 

Bends. 

w i t h ray Barretto (on Atlantic): 

Eye Of The Beholder. 

w i t h u.k. (on eG): Danger Money; 

sound. I want to hear you again after I 

check out the rest of these guys.’ 

So he turns to his road manager, who 

turns to all the other drummers, who all 

shake their heads. The road manager 

turns around and goes, ‘That’s it Frank. 

Nobody else wants to audition after 

Terry.’ So Frank turns to me and goes, 

‘Looks like you got the gig if you want it.’ 

I said to him, ‘Are you sure I can do this?’ 

He said, ‘Do you want to do this?’ I said, 

‘Well, hell yeah, but I just don’t know if 

I’m heavy enough.’ He goes, ‘If you’re 

willing to work I think you can do it.’” 

Dinner followed, as well as a tour of 

the infamous Record Plant studio where 

Zappa played for Bozzio the then-unreleased 

material that would become the 

One Size Fits All record. “I told him the 

truth. I said, ‘I think this is some of the 

best stuff you’ve ever done.’ And I still 

believe that. He played me ‘Music For 

A Low Budget Symphony Orchestra’ 

and ‘Gregory Peccary,’ which were just 

masterpieces. Unbelievable music. So 

my mind was officially blown. This was 

my first time I’d ever seen a studio like 

that, just knobs for days and gigantic 

speakers and a Jacuzzi room. I mean, the 

Record Plant was like a hippie crash pad 

back then. It was a love nest, you know? 

So it was a mind-blowing experience.” 

In a rush to get started, Bozzio flew 

back to San Francisco, packed up his 

seleCteD DisCography 

Night After Night. 

w i t h mark isham (on Virgin): 

w i t h group 87 (on one Way): Mark Isham. 

Group 87. 

w i t h Jeff BeCk (on epic/Legacy): 

w i t h missing persons (on one Way): Beckology. 

Spring Session M; Rhyme & Reason; w i t h earl sliCk (on Metal blade): 

Color In Your Life. 

In Your Face. 

w i t h roBBie roBertson (on Geffen): w i t h riCharD marx (on Capitol): 

Robbie Robertson 

Rush Street. 

w i t h DweeZil Zappa (on Chrysalis): w i t h steve vai (on epic): 

My Guitar Wants To Kill Your Sex & Religion. 

Mama. (on Favored Nations): Automatic. 

(on zappa): Go With What You Know. 

w i t h miCk karn anD 

DaviD torn (on CMP): Polytown. 

w i t h patriCk o'hearn 

w i t h Z (on barking Pumpkin): 

(on Private Music): Rivers Gonna Rise. Shampoohorn. 

(on Discovery): Trust. 

w i t h Duran Duran (on Capitol): 

w i t h gary wright (on Cypress): Thank You. 

Who I Am. (on Worldly/triloka): 

First Signs Of Life. 

w i t h BoZZio levin stevens 

(on Magna Carta): Black Light 

w i t h DeBBie harry (on Sire): Syndrome; Situation Dangerous. 

Def, Dumb & Blonde. 

w i t h Billy sheehan (on Magna Carta): 

w i t h miChael thompson BanD Nine Short Films; Compression. 

(on Geffen): How Long. 

solo (on import): 

w i t h Jeff BeCk anD tony hymas Solo Drum Music, Vol. 1, Vol. 2. 

(on epic): Jeff Beck’s Guitar Shop. 

gear, and returned to L.A., ready to work. 

He remembers it being more like joining 

the marines than anything. 

“I’d wake up every morning, do some 

calisthenics, practice my stick control, 

and warm up. Then I’d make reading 

exercises using all those superimpositions, 

just trying to do all the permutations 

of whatever, say five through 

thirteen over one, two, three, or four, 

and then mix them all up on a page and 

try to sight-read them like that to try 

to get familiar with that kind of thing. 

And Frank would give me tapes of some 

12-piece bands that were just incredible, 

with Ian Underwood and some 

horns and Ralph Humphrey playing 

‘Eric Dolphy Memorial Barbecue’ [from 

Weasels Ripped My Flesh] and ‘Be-Bop 

Tango’ [from Tiny Nightmares]. It was just 

phenomenal classical-meets-rock/jazz/ 

fusion music. And he had the charts to 

those. I would try and rehearse them and 

get to the point where I could play them. 

“We rehearsed eight hours a day 

every day for three to six months, 

then we would go out on the road for 

six months. Every sound check was a 

rehearsal. Every night we were doing 

something new. We were always forced 

to keep that edge. So you were always 

hyper-aware and stretching that brain 

muscle to be able to memorize more. It 

was just terrific.” 

(on Favored Nations/NPS output): 

Chamber Works. 

w i t h explorers CluB 

(on Magna Carta): Age Of Impact; 

Raising The Mammoth. 

w i t h the knaCk 

(on rhino): 

Zoom. (on image): Re-Zoom. 

w i t h the lonely Bears 

(on Magna Carta): Lonely Bears; Bears 

Are Running; Injustice. 

w i t h stevie ray vaughan 

& DouBle trouBle 

(on epic/Legacy): SRV. 

w i t h Bpm (on Abstract Logix): 

Delete And Roll. 

w i t h JorDan ruDess 

(on Magna Carta): Feeding The Wheel. 

w i t h omar & the howlers 

(on blind Pig): Big Delta. 

(on ruff): Boogie Man. 

w i t h vivian CampBell 

(on Sanctuary): Two Sides Of If. 

w i t h korn (on Virgin): Untitled. 


Perhaps the only Bozzio folklore more preposterous than the 

guesswork swirling around the Zappa audition is the muchfabled 

piece of music known eerily as “The Black Page” 

[from You Can’t Do That On Stage Anymore, Vol. 4]. An incredibly 

complex and intricate tune born from the deep, dark depths of 

the Zappa genius, the song was created with drum charts so elaborate 

that the multitude of notes seemed to black out each page of music. 

“I walked into rehearsal, probably in 

my second or third year with the band, 

and Frank said, ‘Hey, Bozzio. What do 

you think about this?’ And he had this 

piece of music. I was impressed. And I 

could sight-read parts of it, the easier 

parts, but there were definitely bars in 

there that I had to work on. But at that 

point it wasn’t a pressure thing, like an 

audition, so I chipped away at it for 20 

minutes a day just as a little challenge. 

After a week or two I was able to play 

it, so Frank took the music back home 

and wrote the melody to it and we began 

playing it as a band. 

“It’s still a pretty hellacious piece 

of music, and for many years I would 

do the clinic circuit and people would 

ask me to play ‘The Black Page’ and I’d 

say no because I’d have to go back and 

memorize it, and to be honest with you, 

I just didn’t want to have to go through 

that pain anymore.” 

During the three “Bozzio years” 

of Zappa’s band, there were three 

world tours and ten albums released. 

Surprisingly, this involved very little 

studio time and a hazy, ambiguous list 

of album credits that remain a mystery 

to this day. 

“We went into the studio a couple 

of times. I did go to the Record Plant 

and do part of Zoot Allures. I think we 

went into the Chateau one time and 

after setting everything up and working 

through the bugs Frank just said, 

‘This sucks. We’re out of here.’ I said, 

‘Why? We worked all day. What’s the 

problem?’ He said, ‘The way you guys 

are playing, it just doesn’t feel right in 

this little room. I only want to record 

live.’ So he would drag stuff out and we 

would record live. He didn’t feel you 

could get basic tracks in the studio that 

had the same energy and intensity that a 

musician put into it when there was an 

audience there. So that’s what we did. 

terry bozzio 

Chapter 3 turning the BlaCk page 

“In the Record Plant we jammed a 

lot too. Things like ‘The Ocean Is The 

Ultimate Solution’ [from Läther] were 

done then. And some of that stuff was 

released, then the Warner Brothers [lawsuit] 

happened and three records were 

shot out without any information. These 

things were, I think, some of the best stuff 

Frank’s ever done. Real masterpieces. 

Unbelievable conceptual pieces. But they 

were just schluffed out with this stupid 

at the point where I joined the band. But 

Frank didn’t want to play it anymore. 

He was burnt. He had played ‘Inca 

Roads’ [from One Size Fits All] enough 

times that he didn’t want to play it for a 

few years. 

“You know, it was fun. And there 

was some challenging music and I was 

pushed, but it became more of a rock 

thing at that point, and my guidepost 

was to play like Mitch Mitchell because 

he kind of bridged the gap. At this point 

I was more of a jazz drummer trying to 

relearn rock. So if I threw in some Tony 

Williams licks Zappa would sometimes 

turn around and go, ‘Now that’s a good 

example of what not to do on stage. 

That’s just too out for what we’re trying 

to do here.’ Then if I did a Mitch 

Mitchell-ish lick – that made sense 

to him. So there was a space where it 

wasn’t supposed to get too jazz, it wasn’t 

supposed to smell too funny. 

“There were no credits on the record. I’m on some 

of the orchestral stuff and not on others. So I don’t 

know how many Zappa records I have a presence on.” 

cartoon artwork and not his original 

mixes or masters. It was just not right. 

There were no credits on the record. I’m 

on some of the orchestral stuff and not on 

others. So I don’t know how many Zappa 

records I have a presence on, whether it’s 

just doing some vocals or spoken word 

stuff or actually playing the drums.” 

Bozzio’s tenure with Zappa soon 

turned odd and awkward. He was hired, 

seemingly, for his classical sensitivities 

and his ability to play superhuman drum 

parts. Then, after he put himself through 

Zappa boot camp and elevated his play 

to its necessary level, his new band basically 

regressed, falling back on a more 

rock-oriented format. It was confusing 

for the proud, excited young drummer. 

“When Captain Beefheart joined the 

band everything just kind of took a left 

turn. A lot of the very difficult stuff was 

left behind and I always felt a little bit 

insecure about that. We never played 

all the great music that was on One Size 

Fits All, all this difficult – beautiful and 

difficult – stuff that they had done. They 

had played all that for several years, and 

it was just being recorded and released 

“At the end of the first tour we 

recorded that live at the Armadillo 

Bongo Fury record, and then I went 

home and Frank called and said he 

wanted me to move to L.A., that it was 

just him and me, nobody else, they 

all left. So that led to the next phase. 

I moved to L.A. and the band went 

through several configurations before 

we settled on what it was: myself, 

Andre Lewis, Nappy [Napoleon Brock], 

and Frank, and Roy Estrada on bass. It 

was an odd grouping of people. I was 

sort of the only one then who had the 

classical sensibilities. The rest of it was 

burning, for what it was, but not for 

that. The whole classical/jazz area was 

just not happening. What came out of 

that were things like ‘Black Napkins’ 

and ‘Zoot Allures’ [both from Zoot 

Allures] and some of those beautiful 

tunes. More space, more comedy, but 

not the same level of intricacy.” 

As the complexity of the music began 

to wane, so did Bozzio’s enthusiasm for 

the work, and yet the experience was 

invaluable in making him the artist he 

is today. There were some regrets, but 

in the end, the Zappa days were unquestionably 

a career highlight. 

“The only regret I have with all that 

is that I was young. I wish I had known 

what I know now to just back up Frank 

and play with him because he was a brilliant 

soloist and really fun to play with. 

I just didn’t know how to do that at the 

time. I was too young and inexperienced. 

So that’s one regret, and Frank has since 

given me enough compliments for me 

to let that stuff go. I’ve played him some 

of my music and done some things that 

he’s been very proud of and he told me 

that. It’s like hearing it from your father. 

I could relax, because he didn’t hand out 

compliments lightly. 

“It was definitely the most rewarding 

and rich musical experience of my entire 

life, on so many levels. I learned so much. I 

was pushed beyond what my capabilities 

were. I had the pleasure of hanging with 

the cat for three years and listening to his 

remarkable sense of humor, whether we 

were just driving down the road or sitting 

on an airplane. Another regret would be 

the fact that my vocabulary wasn’t as good 

as it is now and Frank’s was far beyond 

what mine is now. So to not look like a 

fool I might fake a laugh at a joke when he 

used a big word that I didn’t understand, 

instead of asking what that word meant. 

He could zero in and use the exact word to 

signify something really funny. 

“But I learned so much. The difficulty 

of the music, classically, was way 

beyond anything I’d experienced in 

college. Watching him work was phenomenal. 

He could play the band like a 

keyboard: ‘You do this; you do this; you 

do this.’ Or: ‘Here’s a little lick, now play 

that back to me. Okay, now add this to 

it.’ And before you knew it you had 30 

bars of hellacious, odd-time bizarreness 

strung together and you were burning 

at it – in a matter of moments. Then that 

would become a piece in the middle of 

some larger piece.” 

Zappa’s life would eventually end in 

a losing battle against prostrate cancer. 

When that day of finality arrived, Bozzio 

found himself experiencing some surprising 

emotions. “To be brutally honest, 

and make no mistake about what I mean 

by this because I love Frank, but I was 

relieved when he died. There was a fear 

that left me when he died that I know I 

won’t have anymore because there isn’t 

the chance that he’ll call me up and ask 

me to do something that scares the hell 

out of me. And I lived with that fear until 

the day he died. Then there was this 

release. Whew! Now he won’t call me and 

ask me to act in some Broadway play or 

perform this weird classical thing where 

I have to memorize all this stuff. 

“Those were things I could do when I 

was young and didn’t have a life. I think 

a lot of the musicians that came through 

that band Frank caught at the right time 

where they could blossom and grow. 

eD mann 

learning 

from the 

master 

Frank zappa hired percussionist 

ed Mann in June 

1977, a couple of years 

after terry bozzio had begun 

his tenure with the guitarist/ 

composer. “i didn’t know that 

you could do that on a drum 

kit,” Mann says. “it was one 

of those experiences where i 

walked out a changed person 

with much higher goals, a clarity 

and desire to achieve that 

standard. i was highly motivated.” 

Mann admits that his and 

bozzio’s “working relationship 

was more student/teacher 

than peer to peer.” if anything, 

his role in zappa’s fiery percussive 

ensemble of the time was 

an object lesson in how to 

develop with all that talent 

coming from the drum chair. 

“Musically, i mostly focused 

on the big hits,” Mann says. 

“terry was great to rock with! 

He brought me to a new level 

of rock awareness, helped me 

even out my playing.” 

For Mann, who had just 

come from an in-depth study 

of not only American but crosscultural 

percussive styles at Cal 

Arts, the trek to zappa seemed 

only natural. With bozzio and 

beyond, he performed and recorded 

as percussionist, synthesist, 

electronic sound designer, 

vocalist, and programmer during 

1977–1988. in fact, Mann might 

just be the most recorded musician 

in zappa’s catalog. 

With bozzio on board, Mann 

says he “focused on keeping it 

minimal, in most places, allowing 

terry to do what he was 

going to do and not get in the 

way. i kept my eyes on him, 

to be in synch, on a physical 

and metaphysical level.” Concentrating 

mostly on playing 

mallets with the vibes, Mann 

found his connection as someone 

else holding two sticks. 

“terry helped create more 

evenness, more accuracy in my 

playing. He was slammin’ with 

both hands, with attitude. it 

was an attitude of, ‘Don’t be a 

afraid of playing a wrong note.’ 

Like Frank, he believed that a 

strong wrong note was better 

than a weak right note. early 

on, he was like a drummer on 

steroids. Later, with Frank’s 

orchestral music, he was always 

experimenting, always pushing 

himself to go further, with lin- 

Then they got to the point where they 

either wanted to do their own thing or 

they got lazy and were no longer adept 

enough to hang with what he wanted to 

do. In my case, he sensed I was ready to 

go and he said, ‘I think it’s time you go off 

and do your own thing.’ I said the same 

thing to him as when I was asked to join 

the band: ‘Are you sure I can do this?’ 

Like a good father he kicked me out of 

the nest. And it took me a while to learn 

how to fly.” 

ear patterns – it was all mixed 

up. if there was a double it was 

on purpose to create a double 

effect, all the bass drums and 

hands going all at once, even 

tripling and quadrupling! His 

playing was very orchestrated. 

And he always had a goal point. 

“by that point he was 

Frank’s master drummer par 

excellence,” Mann continues. 

“everybody followed bozzio. 

terry owned that band. the 

thrills of that band bring to 

mind Keith Moon. one of the 

things i love about bozzio’s attitude 

on the kit is that mood 

of youthful exuberance and 

expressive exploration that he 

rides like a high wave. Keith is 

the only drummer i know of 

who plays that way, and i am 

a huge Keith Moon fan. When 

Keith died – rest in peace – i 

was sure the Who were going 

to snatch terry up. That would 

have been a great band!” 

–John Ephland 


terry bozzio 

Chapter 4 

three musiCians, one missing person 

was what it was in hindsight. Pretty much everything 

I’ve done I can look back on and go, ‘This was pretty good 

for what I knew and who I was at the time.’ And if I look 

“It 

at it that way, I like and enjoy everything that I’ve done.” 

That’s how Bozzio reflects on his days with the curious – some say 

confused – ’80s freak show known as Missing Persons. It’s a somewhat 

typical stance. Many artists look back at their work during the 

’80s with a tinge of embarrassment. 

But whatever it was, it was right for 

the times and it granted Bozzio and his 

bandmates – including then wife and 

singer Dale Bozzio – significant success, 

at least financially speaking, at least for 

the short term. 

“I had some savings and we decided 

to form Missing Persons. We got together 

with Warren [Cuccurullo, guitar] 

and got a keyboardist, Chuck Wild, and 

it was scary. I ran out of money, had 

to start teaching. We made this demo 

with Ken Scott, thinking he could get 

us a record deal with one phone call, 

but nobody wanted to hear it. So we 

just kept slogging it out, the whole doit-yourself 

thing with packaging and 

everything, back when that was meaningful. 

Now, everybody is able to do 

that. Everybody can make a CD at home 

and it doesn’t mean anything anymore. 

“But at that time there was a progressive 

rock station that would play 

interesting new music. So we took it to 

them and got some of our friends to call 

up and request it and then it just took 

off. We did a few gigs and people had 

heard us on the radio and they started 

going nuts. ‘What the hell is this?’ Then 

it really took off. We got signed; we were 

on MTV because we had videos before 

videos really existed. So we got heavy 

rotation on MTV and we’d go to places 

like El Paso and sell out a 2,000-seat 

venue even though we’d never been 

there before. 

“The concept was to make it like a 

Fellini movie – look weird, sound weird 

and quirky, but be a pop band. It was 

a weird assumption because the word 

‘pop’ [presumes] that you have to be 

successful and popular and there’s no 

way to really gauge that. We did the 

same thing twice and the second time it 

wasn’t successful. And the third time it 

was not successful again. And it doesn’t 

seem to matter. Things are what they 

are and they’ll be what they’ll be. 

“The good parts of that, it was three 

guys who could really play who liked 

each other and liked what each other 

did. We came up with some really 

interesting music within the ‘popular’ 

spectrum. Within that spectrum is a 

universe of possibilities, so we tried 

to give people something interesting 

even though they didn’t know 

they were getting something interesting 

– under the guise of excitement 

during the show or what have 

you. So it worked and it was fun. 

“In terms of my ex-wife, it worked 

the first time, but by the time we did 

our second record and tried to be a little 

more sophisticated, I don’t think her 

voice could cover it. And by then she 

was having personal problems, and 

Warren was too, and so the whole thing 

started to fall apart. To this day I’m still 

in touch with Patrick [O’Hearn], who 

is my dear friend, and Warren as well. 

I don’t contact my ex-wife. She’s still 

out there using the name and doing the 

Missing Persons thing and, you know, 

that’s all she has and God bless her. I 

think it’s kind of sad and I wish her the 

best. It just wasn’t meant to be. That 

whole thing, in hindsight, was probably 

just a relationship that should have 

been a one-night stand. 

“It was a good, bizarre combination 

for what was popular at the time and 

then it didn’t work. And it took us a 

little while to let go of it.” 

Chapter 5 follow your riff Bliss 

A 

depression soon set in, slowly rolling over Bozzio like 

the San Francisco fog in which he was raised, until he 

was completely consumed, zero visibility, and fighting 

for a line of sight. He pressed on, playing with U.K., The 

Brecker Brothers, then Jeff Beck, as well as other miscellaneous gigs. 

An unsuccessful audition for Thin Lizzy certainly didn’t help matters, 

and Bozzio soon found himself in a deeply introspective state, 

studying philosophy and occupying that familiar therapist’s couch. 

“A lot of it revolved around insecurities, 

financial insecurities and things 

like that. And when you mix that up 

with creativity you’re really creating 

a hopeless situation. Creativity is all 

about, ‘Fuck It. Let’s go make mistakes. 

I’m going to go do something fun that 

nobody has to see and there’s no reason 

to think about it or criticize it.’ That’s 

how all the good stuff happens. And you 

can prepare yourself by practicing and 

learning and you can guarantee yourself 

some results by doing, but if you just 

think, you’re not going to do. The critic 

sits on your shoulder telling you what’s 

not a good idea, then nothing gets done.” 

The drummer was having difficulty 

being an artist. So many different negatives 

– self-criticism, inflated ego, selfdoubt, 

L.A. – were pulling him in so 

many directions, he felt like he could 

be ripped apart at any moment. This is 

when others turn to drugs. Bozzio, the 

intellectual, instead turned to the readings 

of Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell, 

and began the long, often torturous process 

of self-discovery. 

“The emotional attachment to music, 

that’s one thing that I had to work 

through. It doesn’t matter how I feel 

about the music at the time because 

how I feel is subject to change. I’ve had 

enough experiences where I thought, 

‘Man, I killed it tonight.’ Then I listen 

to the tape and it sucks. Or times when 

I’m sick and hanging on by a thread and 

don’t think I’m playing well at all, and it 

ends up being unbelievably good. 

“So if I take that emotional attachment 

away and look at it later in time, I see it 

with fresh eyes and an understanding of 

the context. I get this detachment from 

my actual creative source and then I can 

take my ego out of the picture and say, 

‘Okay, this really isn’t me because my 

intention was to do this and look what 

the result is.’ If my intentions are out of 

the way then the real creativity comes 

through. It’s just part of human nature, 

and some people are good at tapping into 

it while others are not. Some people are 

just too caught up in all the other stuff. 

“When you get to the point where 

you just don’t give a shit, then the 

best stuff happens. Or you just accept 

whatever it is as what happened that 

day. Eliminating your ego is something 

that can’t be forced, but you can work 

towards it if you’re open to it. My earlier 

years had a lot of pain. I feel I was 

younger and stronger and yet more in 

denial and more arrogant. All those 

youthful things are there for a reason, 

so you don’t collapse. As you get older 

maybe those things aren’t so present so 

you’re more willing to be humble. 

“When I was first going out there doing 

clinics I thought I should know everything 

about everything for all drummers. 

I soon learned that every drummer has 

a different story and every drummer has 

some basic truths we’re all talking about, 

no matter how smart or stupid or how 

complex or simple a drummer you are. 

We’re all talking about this same truth. 

The accent and the vernacular change, 

but it’s the same truth. I’ve met thousands 

of drummers all around the world 

and we’re all talking about the same 

thing. It’s like we’re at the edge of this 

ever-widening circle and anybody can 

join in. We’re all looking at the same center 

point, but I’m at north and that guy’s 

at southeast, and that’s okay. 

“I appreciate that now, as opposed 

to what I believed before, which is one 

size fits all – you’re either Buddy Rich 

or you’re nothing. I think the more I 

went through these things and looked 

at them, the easier it got. People use 

the phrase ‘old idea.’ Well, having an 

ego became an old idea. I didn’t have to 

think that way anymore. It’s okay if I 

want to say, ‘Fuck society,’ and live in a 

cave. Those are easy things to say, but 

that’s the truth. 

“It’s harder to live that way. But on 

the other hand, what I thought I needed 

to have in order to be happy didn’t 

make me happy. I had the money, the 

car, the beautiful wife. We grossed 

something like a million dollars or more 

with Missing Persons, and I was never 

more miserable. So if money and fame 

don’t make me happy then what does? 

I thought it was creativity, but I was 

doing this creativity for these presup- 

“We grossed something like a million dollars 

or more with Missing Persons, and I was never 

more miserable” 

posed ideas of popularity, and that 

didn’t work for me. 

“Then reading Joseph Campbell and 

the whole ‘follow your bliss’ thing, it’s 

really true. When you find something 

that gives you enjoyment, you should 

do that. It’ll take you on its journey – for 

me, all the ostinatos and drum composition 

stuff – and on the other side of it 

you thank God you followed it, instead 

of trying to get a gig with some pop guy 

to make money. 

“A lot of that has to do with living in 

Los Angeles. When you live in L.A. you 

don’t realize the pressure that you live 

under and the things you assume, habits 

you indoctrinate into your lifestyle, 

until you leave it. So fuck all that. Fuck 

having to dress up and be Terry Bozzio 

to go shopping because, well, a couple 

months ago I was in People magazine 

because of my divorce and God forbid 

somebody might notice me and I’ll have 

to explain myself to someone. 

“All that crap left when I left L.A. and 

moved to Austin. Now the air is clean, 

the schools are better, and I can actually 

afford to buy a house.” 


patriCk o’hearn 

fun with the 

Bozzio show 

“My relationship with terry – working 

or otherwise – is always about 

laughter and having fun,” says longtime 

friend and musical colleague 

Patrick o’Hearn. “terry and i were 

introduced to one another through 

keyboardist Mike Knock. During the 

summer of 1973, Mike – a New zealander 

living in San Francisco at the 

time – made a sightseeing road trip 

up the West Coast in his van, which, 

in addition to having a bed, was 

equipped with a powered Fender 

rhodes suitcase piano.” 

As the bassist recalls, “While 

passing through Portland, oregon, 

Mike came to a jazz club i was playing 

at. i was living there at the time. 

After sitting in with our group, he 

took me aside and suggested that 

i move to San Francisco, where he 

could help me find more work – 

including with his own band where 

terry was the drummer.” 

o’Hearn’s retelling of this tale 

seems as important as any chapter 

in his life story with bozzio. “the 

first day we played together at 

Mike’s studio, i remember walking 

in with my upright bass and seeing 

terry’s kit – a beautiful, dark rubyred-stained 

kit – and thinking to 

myself, ‘What a marvelous-looking 

set of drums.’ i had a good feeling 

that their owner was happening. i 

don’t recall a formal introduction, i 

think we just got behind our instruments 

and commenced playing 

and the sparks flew. Anyway, that 

day terry and i became friends, 

and within a short period of time 

we became the best of friends, of 

which we remain so to this day.” 

From there o’Hearn went on to 

play with Charles Lloyd, Joe Henderson, 

Dexter Gordon, and Joe 

Pass, among others. in 1976 he met 

Frank zappa, who offered him a job 

as bass player. As o’Hearn tells it, 

“terry joined in ’75 and 

toured with him, while 

i was touring with 

Charles Lloyd. George 

Duke had contacted 

terry to come join 

Frank, Chester thompson 

having left the 

band by that point. in 

the spring of ’76 terry 

invited me to drop by 

the studio. Frank had 

let the whole band 

go except for terry. 

Frank was a night owl, 

getting to the studio 

around 4:00 in the 

afternoon and working 

till 4:00 that morning. 

i was playing at the 

Lighthouse with Joe 

Henderson and got off 

“i’ve always had the utmost 

respect for his dedication 

to craft, musicianship, and 

creative soulfulness” 

around 2:00 a.m. terry 

said to come by and 

meet Frank and say hi. 

i had my upright with 

me and he asked if i 

would like to play on a track he had 

just finished. i started playing, he 

liked what he heard, and he asked if 

i play electric, and i came back the 

next night and added some electric 

to the mix. Frank asked me to join 

and we became a trio at that point. 

Frank toyed with the idea of a trio 

but his music needed more. i stayed 

a little over two years.” 

After forming Group 87 with 

trumpet player Mark isham and 

guitarist Peter Maunu, and working 

with tony Williams, o’Hearn 

was invited to play bass in bozzio’s 

exploding new wave band Missing 

Persons in 1981. in 1986, after three 

albums, the group disbanded. 

“terry and i come from and share 

several general sources of influence 

and inspiration – at least from the 

earlier years,” o’Hearn says. “the 

terry bozzio 

center of that would be Miles Davis, 

the whole enchilada up to that 

point, especially when tony joined 

the group. i was more interested in 

learning how to play the bass by following 

him. As for terry, i’ve always 

had the utmost respect for his dedication 

to craft, musicianship, and 

creative soulfulness. 

“We’ve been working on a recording 

project at terry’s studio in 

Austin that we started in the summer 

of 2002, and regrettably has 

remained dormant. it needs to get 

finished, mainly to be mixed. it’s 

different – not real rhythm-section 

playing, not like we’re grooving – it’s 

more spacey, with different electronic 

processors and keyboards, 

some steel guitar. Needless to say, 

we were not focusing on our principal 

instruments.” 

As for the highpoints of working 

with bozzio, o’Hearn says, “A lot 

of those were perhaps touring together 

extensively in Frank zappa’s 

band … about 100 years ago. there 

were many humorous experiences. 

Also, quite good times touring 

with Missing Persons. but the most 

memorable experiences are based 

on day-to-day life – not so much 

musical, but the priceless irony that 

is observed by most musicians on 

the road.” 

And what exactly is that priceless 

irony? “it has to do with one who 

takes in the odd and silly things 

from a humorous perspective,” says 

o’Hearn. “terry has a great sense of 

humor, and we’ve certainly shared a 

lot in our relationship – the humor 

above all else.” 


38 TRAPS Autumn 2008 trapsmagazine.com 

Chapter 6 high wire BalanCe 

Bozzio emerged from that thick fog a fully realized, selfsufficient 

artist. A big part of that emergence involved his 

decision to begin touring as a solo clinician. He would go 

on to become one of the most sought-after artists in the 

clinic circuit, but first he had to learn the ropes. 

“First of all, I was scared to death to do a clinic. Second, I didn’t 

want to be known as a ‘drummer.’ I wanted to be Phil Collins and 

be a pop star, damn it! I wanted to sing and take control and all 

that kind of crap. Yeah, real good motives there [laughs]. So my 

first clinic was totally frightening. 

“I went out there with my leather 

pants on and the whole shebang. It was 

down at the Musician’s Union and I was 

playing with Sonny Emory, who is a 

hell of a nice guy, but I didn’t know anything 

about him. He’s a college graduate, 

corps-meister, stick-twirling, funky, 

musical motherfucker, and he got out 

there and just shredded. And I choked. 

I got up there and did my same ol’ drum 

solo from the Zappa days, clicking 

sticks, and struggling, and sweating. I 

just sucked. But I got through it. 

“Then Sonny and I went on the road 

together and we started having fun. I got 

more into it, although there were bumps 

in the road. I remember one day I forgot 

a huge section of my solo. Somehow I 

was at the end and had forgotten this 

whole big section. And when I finished, 

somebody in the audience yells out, ‘Is 

that it?’ It was fucking hilarious. I was 

so embarrassed. 

“But Sonny had an idea for me to 

come up with a lick, then he’d come up 

with a lick, then each day we’d add the 

licks and by the end of the 30-day tour 

we’d have this big string of ideas that we 

could do. So we did that. At the end of 

the clinic we would jam, but then we’d 

go into this thing in unison and people 

loved it. When I was playing with Sonny 

there was this thing that happened that 

can occur when two drummers are actually 

musical and not trying to do an, 

‘I’m Buddy and you’re not’ thing, even 

though he was and I’m not. [laughs] 

“It reminded me of my days playing in 

San Francisco where we’d close our eyes 

and there was this fog and you just went 

into this other world. That started to happen 

with Sonny, so I reconnected with 

that. Then I think we played together at 

a PAS thing as a duet and it was serious 

music. We played for 45 minutes straight 

and it went anywhere and everywhere. 

By then I was getting more into my vibe, 

and into the idea of studying classical 

music and listening in a classical way, 

or expressing myself in a classical way. 

It started to conjure this stuff up, so I 

would do little minimalist things to set 

him up – like Steve Reich or Philip Glass 

or something – and he’d burn on it. Then 

he’d do something like that to set me up 

and I’d burn on it. Colors and textures 

and stops and starts and grooves, all this 

music was happening. It was a ball. 

“So doing clinics quickly went from 

that egotistical approach, where you’re 

second-guessing what you 

think the audience wants 

from you to, ‘Here’s what 

I found, do you want to 

come check it out or not?’ 

There was trepidation at 

first, but after a year or so 

I was feeling this spiritual 

connection and a disconnect 

from my ego. I would 

lose myself. Terry Bozzio 

didn’t exist while I was 

playing. He’s over on the 

side of the stage, thank 

God, not interfering. This 

stuff is happening. Like 

playing with Zappa, I was 

incredibly consistent and 

hardly ever made mistakes 

because I got into this zone. 

I had found that zone again 

and learned how to tap into 

it. And an audience is an 

integral part because it’s 

like a circus act. You’re on 

the high wire.” 

But before he fell into the 

warm embrace of ‘the zone,’ 

Bozzio would struggle with his new role 

as a solo artist, often doubting himself 

and following those deceptive, false 

motives. He eventually figured it out. 

“When I was about a year or so into these 

clinics, I was still finding my zone. My 

therapist, again, said, ‘If you have a fear 

about not having something prepared, 

then have something prepared.’ So, okay, 

I’d have an ostinato prepared and a 

theme or two prepared. But what would 

inevitably happen is I’d go out there and 

start doing this free shit. Like, ‘Okay, let’s 

see how we can fuck with these people.’ 

Before you know it, amazing things are 

happening. And my consciousness was 

developed enough as far as listening and 

retaining that I could hold on to these 

things. ‘Okay, I don’t know what the fuck 

that was, or where it came from, but it 

was amazing – so let’s do that again.’ 

“Then that would become part of the 

composition, and before I knew it I had 

these incredibly complex, drawn-out 

compositions that all came from spontaneous 

improvisation. It all came from 

playing with the intent of being musical 

and then listening as I played, then 

retaining. Dip into the unconscious, let 

something happen, but then be intense 

and focused on what that is so it can be 

trapsmagazine.com Autumn 2008 TRAPS 39

analyzed and understood. Then it can 

be repeated. Otherwise it’s totally intuitive 

and lost. 

“There’s a balance factor that I feel 

is really important, psychologically, 

between intellect, physicality, intuition, 

and emotion. None of those things can 

be out of balance when you play. The 

‘emotional’ type of player might be a 

guitarist who is incredible and plays 

with such feeling, but God forbid if he 

gets in a fight with his girlfriend before 

he goes on stage, because then he can’t 

play. Or there’s the physical animal, 

just chops for days, but no sensitivity, 

no comprehension of what he’s doing. 

Or the intellect who is maybe a classical 

genius but can’t play with any feel, 

can’t make something swing to save 

his life. Or the intuitive type who is 

capable of doing some amazing things, 

but you can’t ask him to play what he 

played last night because he’s not in 

touch with what it was. It came from 

his subconscious. 

“So, for me, I try to have all four of 

those elements firing at the same time 

in somewhat balance, in order to be 

effective in one given day, one given 

moment in a performance. I’m better or 

not so good at it depending on the day, 

but my intention is always there. And 

if I’m playing too physically, I back off. 

If I feel it’s too intellectual, I play with 

more emotion. Or I try not to get too 

emotional and get out there and fuck 

up because in the heat of the moment 

you can lose the bottom of something. 

And I find that if I have that understanding 

in my mind and go out there 

with my ego out of the way, I always 

have a good day. 

“My watermark is always my best 

time I just played, so I’m never satisfied 

unless I reach that or go beyond it. 

But I realize also that that’s what makes 

me good. That’s what makes me revisit 

things in practice. ‘Why did I fuck that 

up?’ Okay, fix that so you don’t fuck it 

up. That hurts but it’s also what makes 

me better. So if I have those intentions 

and that motive then my ego is out of the 

picture and I’m able to just have a good 

time, allowing whatever music is supposed 

to happen in the moment happen. 

And I’m able to accept that, and love it, 

and let it be whatever it is, living with the 

parts I don’t like and trying to make it 

better the next day.” 

terry bozzio 

Chapter 7 watersheD in the wooDsheD 

Jump back to when Missing Persons was struggling and Bozzio 

was taking more lumps, teaching drum lessons to help cover 

the costs of getting his band off the ground. One day, a kid 

no-shows, and Bozzio finds himself with time to kill alone in a 

room with half of a drum set. So he starts playing ostinato 

patterns and quickly realizes there are only a few combinations to 

learn – if he could play those combinations with his left hand he 

could then play any pattern against them with his right. 

The half-hour is up. As he exits the 

practice room he runs into a fellow 

instructor who stops him and says, “Oh, 

I thought there were two drummers in 

there.” “That comment stuck in the back 

of my mind,” Bozzio recalls. And that 

concept would eventually progress into 

an enormous beast of ostinato material 

that would become the solo artist’s 

calling card. 

Soon thereafter Rod Morgenstein 

hears a Missing Persons song on the 

radio and calls up his drumming pal to 

say, “I just heard 

some of your 

Bozzio trademarks 

on the radio.” It 

was a small comment, 

but a revelation 

for Bozzio. 

“It was the first 

time I realized 

that I was playing 

things that people 

were perceiving 

as some kind of authentic expression 

of mine. So then, okay, so let’s build 

on those and stop doing the big Billy 

Cobham single-stroke roll around the 

toms. So I started to develop this more 

and more. 

“Then when I got with Jeff Beck, I 

noticed Tony Hymas would wake up 

and play piano for over two hours every 

day, committed to memory, practicing 

Mozart and all this amazing classical 

music. I would watch him and think, 

‘I’ve made a career out of a little bag of 

crap that I know and here’s a guy who 

is really living it, who is really in it.’ So 

I decided to start practicing. I started 

working on these different ostinatos and 

making them happen. 

“I would practice almost as therapy. 

I would just practice something I didn’t 

know how to do for one hour every day, 

“I’ve made a career out 

of a little bag of crap 

that I know and here’s a 

guy who is really living it, 

who is really in it” 

mostly working on these ostinatos. It 

gave me an inner satisfaction and it was 

at least one hour a day where I wasn’t 

worried about writing songs and making 

a living. As that crept into my daily 

habits and into my consciousness, all 

that material started to happen. 

“And as I got more comfortable doing 

the clinic thing, I’d go ahead and play my 

ten-year-old drum solo, then if the crowd 

applauded and I talked and interacted 

with them a little bit maybe I could risk 

playing something that they might not 

like. So I’d toss a 

couple ostinatos 

out at them. And 

they liked it. I 

started to realize I 

had this wonderful 

opportunity 

developing where 

I had total artistic 

freedom. Then, 

through reading 

Joseph Campbell 

and experiencing all the trials and tribulations 

you go through, I got to the point 

where I realized, ‘Hey, it’s only about me, 

and whatever it is I’m supposed to channel. 

Screw everything else.’” 

Bozzio kept up with his learn-whiledoing 

process, staying on the road 

between clinics and Jeff Beck gigs, all 

the while reshaping and remolding 

who he was and who he would become 

as an artist. 

“Then I was doing some clinics after 

the Beck thing, and I was in Oslo jetlagged 

and I found out that this other 

drummer, Dom Famularo, who I’d 

never heard before, was on with me. So I 

was a little afraid, thinking he might be 

a competitive chops guy who would try 

and blow me off the stage and that kind 

of vibe. Well, Dom and I of course had 

a wonderful day and played together 

ChaD waCkerman 

Double 

the 

trouble 

on traps 

first time i heard 

him, he sounded like 

“the 

an individual.” if ever a 

pair of ears could make that kind 

of inference about terry bozzio, 

it’s colleague Chad Wackerman. “i 

knew who his influences were,” says 

Wackerman. “People like tony Williams 

and eric Gravatt, but i never 

heard him play their licks.” 

Catching up with him while on 

tour with Allan Holdsworth, Wackerman 

was eager to speak of his musical 

friendship and collaborations 

with bozzio. And while their tenures 

were separated by a good number 

of years, like bozzio, Wackerman 

was the man behind the drums for 

Frank zappa during the combustible 

1980s, appearing on 26 albums. “i 

met terry in the early ’80s,” Wackerman 

says. “i had joined Frank’s band 

after Vinnie Colaiuta left. i stayed 

from 1981 through ’88. i actually met 

terry through Frank, at one of our 

dress rehearsals. At the time i was 

also living in L.A., and he just came 

by the zappa rehearsal after one of 

their shows and we hung out. it was 

great to meet him. After seeing him 

with Missing Persons, for years we’d 

run into each other at drum festivals 

and clinics. it helped that we 

have similar influences and tastes 

in music.” 

From there it was only a matter 

of time (no pun intended) before 

the two decided to lock arms 

rhythmically. “We started playing 

together in 2000, did a 20-city tour 

of the South,” Wackerman recalls. 

“We’ve done quite a few duet tours. 

it was terry’s concept of going out 

with two drummers to promote 

Solo Drum Music. So we did the ‘Art 

of Drumming’ tour in 2000. For that 

tour i played my drum pieces for 45 

minutes, then terry played his compositions 

for 45 minutes, followed 

by both of us playing the zappa 

composition ‘the black Page.’ We 

found out we had a lot more fun 

playing together, so when we play 

“what [Bozzio] plays is not 

predictable. he covers bass lines and 

melodies, and thinks in modes.” 

together now, we mostly play duet 

improvisations. We also found that 

that kind of musical interaction was 

really enjoyable and very powerful. 

At times it feels like we are playing 

in a band, because there is so much 

melody, harmony, and rhythm going 

on. terry is so melodic. terry and i 

have two DW DVDs out, including 

one on ‘the black Page.’ So far, we’ve 

done four tours.” 

What has Wackerman learned 

from working with bozzio? “the 

obvious thing was the compositional 

aspect – he took drum set 

composition to another level. He’s 

a great improviser, because terry is 

all about the music. that’s why the 

duets are so incredible, with the 

common goal of being extremely 

musical and interactive. it’s never a 

chops-based competition. What he 

plays is not predictable. He covers 

bass lines and melodies, and thinks 

in modes. Max roach, in his solo 

work, was playing like a horn. Similarly, 

terry also plays like a pianist 

or a horn player when he solos. He 

sometimes even uses certain buzz 

effects to emulate the sound of a 

Harmon trumpet mute. of course, 

it sounds completely different on a 

set of drums.” 

And speaking of drums, Wackerman’s 

very large setup – still 

somewhat smaller than bozzio’s 

– is impressive and tailor-made to 

playing with bozzio. “i play a huge 

kit with diatonic pitches,” Wackerman 

says. “i’m using 12 toms. Most 

of the melody we play comes from 

the toms, so i found i needed more 

pitches to play these duet shows. 

With six piccolo toms that are 

tuned very high – terry uses 15 in 

a chromatic scale – the rest of my 

setup includes three rack toms, 

three floor toms, and two bass 

drums and a snare drum.” Wackerman 

chuckles, “the kit is big, and 

it’s what i am comfortable with. 

“We tend to get into more 

musical patterns than beats and 

rhythms. And audiences really pick 

up on that. in fact, that’s one of 

biggest things that they enjoy. they 

know some music is being made. 

one of the other DW DVDs, D2, is 

miked really well, so you can hear 

the notes very clearly.” 

but about zappa’s “black Page” 

– how in the world did the drummers 

decide to make that such a 

central work in their shows, given 

how much they love to improvise? 

“it’s really a 20th century classical 

piece. We are playing the correct 

melody and every note is written 

on that page. it’s only about three 

minutes long, but it’s been considered 

a rhythmic litmus test for 

drummers. it is a difficult piece to 

play, and terry was the first one to 

play it with Frank.” 



at the end and it was very musical 

and wonderful and sympathetic. And 

we’re having dinner afterwards, raising 

our glasses and having a great meal 

in Europe. He says, ‘Look at me. I’ve 

never played with a major artist, I’ve 

never recorded, yet I’m a drummer who 

gets to go all over the world playing 

drums. And they pay me for this.’ And 

as he’s saying these words, I’m thinking, 

‘Bozzio, what is your fucking problem? 

You’re in the same situation, why don’t 

you look at it that way?’ 

“And I swear, I had a tour for 30 days 

after that and I played my ass off, had 

so much fun, every night was great. I 

went home and for the next six weeks 

had a watershed of ostinato ideas. I had 

a studio in my house then, in L.A., and 

I went in every day for an hour and just 

terry bozzio 

chipped away at it. Some days it would 

go so well I’d stay for three hours, other 

days I’d barely make it through the 

hour. But I showed up every day. Then I 

was able to put all that stuff out on those 

three Paiste videos, all in one shot. And 

that’s kind of the way it works for me. 

I’ll compile stuff and it’s not ready until 

it’s ready, then there’s this watershed of 

stuff that just comes out.” 

The instructional videos, Ostinatos, 

Vol. 1, 2, and 3, solidified Bozzio as one 

of the world’s top drumming minds 

and, more personally, informed his 

own idea of who he was as a person 

and an artist. He was a solo artist. A 

drummer. He came closer than ever to 

becoming that larger-than-life innovator 

whose art lives well before its time. 

It skyrocketed from there until the 

drummer became essentially a oneman 

orchestra. 

“I guess the next watershed moment 

was when I did all the stuff for my solo 

CDs Drawing The Circle and then Chamber 

Works, just chipping away and writing 

stuff and paying attention. People would 

say, ‘You sound so orchestral, have you 

ever thought about hiring somebody to 

write some music to go along with your 

drum stuff?’ And I’d think, ‘Ugh, what a 

drag to read charts and be confined and 

all that.’ Then it came to me one night: 

All right, make an overhead chart of the 

way you tune your drums. So I just put 

the circles and wrote the notes my drums 

were tuned to. Then when I play a certain 

theme on a certain drum composition, 

that’s these four notes. Okay, I write that 

down. Then I think, ‘That could be a cello.’ 

“Normally when I’m playing it’s just 

me – that’s all there is, and people think 

that’s music. Now I look at it like, ‘That 

part could be a bass line; that could be a 

top-line melody; that could be an inner 

voice of something totally reharmonized.’ 

This has endless possibilities. And I just 

went from there. I just started spewing 

out all this music and within six weeks 

or so that was done. And then the process 

began of correcting it, putting it in 

MIDI file, spitting it out in note-writing 

software and all that junk. I finally got 

to play it in Austria at the Vienna Jazz 

Festival, and I recorded it more recently, 

expanded for a 60-piece orchestra. 

“So these things just happen like 

that. I just get an idea and go with it. 

Nobody’s twisting my arm, there’s no 

critic on my shoulder judging me. I just 

want to do this, have some fun, hopefully 

get some positive feedback from 

the sounds and the overall feeling you 

get from the music playing it back. And 

I found that was happening. Now I 

compose all the time. I just do not care. 

I’ve compiled lots of stuff that, when 

it’s ready, I’ll put it out. Things like that 

keep happening. 

“And I don’t really look at the financial 

side other than trying to get some 

dough together to actually produce a 

product. I’ve never gotten rich off my 

solo stuff. It is what it is and it’s for me, 

and if someone else likes it, great. Come 

on into my world and I’ll show you all 

this stuff. And if you don’t dig it, great. 

Go play fucking Guitar Hero and have a 

great life” [laughs]. 

BoZZio-isms 

Any discussion of bozzioisms 

must begin with his 

gargantuan percussive 

instrument. it can’t be ignored. 

the sight of bozzio’s face peeking 

out from behind a dense 

wall of drums and cymbals has 

become his signature as much 

as his complex solo drumming 

compositions. He began writing 

and performing his nowlegendary 

percussion pieces in 

the late ’80s, which are based 

around ostinatos that hold 

down the rhythmic foundation 

while the other limbs, freed 

from repetitive duties, create a 

tapestry of melodies, syncopations, 

and polyrhythms. 

on the other hand, when 

bozzio finds himself in an 

ensemble situation, his drumming 

can become simple and 

straightforward or intricate and 

melodic – depending on what 

the music demands. therefore, 

another important bozzio-ism is 

his musicality. 

ex. 1 is taken from “big block” 

off of the 1989 recording Jeff 

Beck’s Guitar Shop With Terry Bozzio 

And Tony Hymas. this track, based 

on a 12/8 groove, illustrates 

bozzio’s melodic tendencies. 

in measures two, four, six, and 

eight, bozzio brings the drums to 

the front line with tom fills that 

match the guitar melody exactly 

while orchestrating them around 

the kit. in the second half of this 

excerpt bozzio keeps the groove 

going with steady eighth-notes 

from his left foot on the hi-hat 

and backbeats on the snare. His 

right hand plays a six-over-four 

polyrhythm on the ride cymbal 

by playing every other eighthnote 

triplet. 

And speaking of polyrhythms, 

ex. 2 contains plenty of them in 

the form of tuplets played over 

steady quarter-notes pedaled 

on the hi-hat. this transcription 

is taken from “Dicht,” the 

opening cut from bozzio’s OUTrio 

DVD featuring Alex Machacek 

on guitar and Patrick o’Hearn 

on bass. Here bozzio navigates 

odd-meters and tuplets of all 

varieties, including threes, fives, 

and sevens. And he does this in 

lockstep with the guitar melodies, 

creating rhythmic unisons 

and melodic counterpoint. 

Transcription By wally sChnalle 

“Big Block” at 1:38 

42 TRAPS Autumn 2008 trapsmagazine.com trapsmagazine.com Autumn 2008 TRAPS 43 

“Dicht” at 3:30

TeRRy Bozzio - DRUM! Magazine

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