Art Blakey began his musical career at church, where he learned to play the piano.

In his early teens he was the pianist in his jazz band until he was persuaded (purportedly at gun point by the owner of the club where they were playing)  to move from piano to drums (a young Erroll Garner — another jazz giant — took Blakey’s spot at the piano), thus  launching one of the great careers of jazz. And Blakey — in a similar manner to Miles Davis — was instrumental in further launching the careers of many young jazz stars.

In 1948, Blakey was influenced by the polyrhythmic drumming techniques he was introduced to while visiting western Africa, and these influences helped pave Blakey’s path from a bebop to a hard bop drumming style.

In 1954, Blakey, along with pianist Horace Silver, formed the first Jazz Messengers quintet (with Lou Donaldson (alto), Clifford Brown (trumpet), and Curley Russell (base)). It was The Jazz Messenger groups that cemented Blakey’s legendary status in the history of jazz.  Horace Silver left the group in 1956 and The Jazz Messengers were fully under Blakey’s control (for an example of Horace Silver’s oeuvre see, in particular, Song for my Father (1964), the inspiration for Steely Dan’s Rikki Don’t Lose that Number — specifically the base-line).

For me, the highlight of Blakey and The Jazz Messengers came in 1958 with Moanin’, one of my favorite songs. There are other gems on the Moanin’ album (including the lyrical Along Came Betty, and The Drum Thunder Suite, which shows off Blakey’s power and versatility), but Moanin’ is the song that blows me away: it begins calmly and the rhythm roils comfortably, but when Lee Morgan’s solo begins, it transports me to a higher reality. I could listen to the song over and over; and I’m not the only admirer, it’s a hard bop classic.

Art Blakey passed from this world in 1990, but his soulful, powerful drumming — infused with the funky-blues rhythm that helped formulate hard bop jazz —ensures that his spirit will live on as long as we remember, and listen to, his music.

.

.

.