A Twenty-One Drum Salute: Part one of two

It wasn’t the most subtle wake-up call, but it was certainly effective.

Heavy hammers in the hands of early-morning workers, roofing a neighbor’s house, blasted me into the new day, and the brutal staccato bursts of their amplified labor ensured that any hopes of sleeping in had been blown to smithereens.

Hey, it happens all the time down here. Noise pollution is second nature to the folks who live in this gated community, most of whom are silently ensconced in their oceanfront “cottages” when the hired help arrives.

No way their dreams are being destroyed.

Merely reinforced.

This aural assault went on for the better part of a week and, as the old saying goes, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

I grew accustomed to the inconvenience and decided that the Amish could have given these ham-fisted amateurs lessons in the art of cooperative construction.

And I don’t use the word “art” carelessly.

Then again, I’m basing my opinion mostly on the barn-raising scene in “Witness,” still one of the few perfect films I’ve ever experienced. In it, as you might recall, Harrison Ford goes undercover in an attempt to protect a young boy, who’s witnessed a murder. The plot unfolds seamlessly and includes a memorable interlude in which the men of the community build a barn for a neighbor.

They hammer and nail and the women serve food and sew.

And its a symphony of synchronized human activity, the pounding a perfect counterpoint to the stitching needles, all aimed at helping one another.

And the noise is heavenly.

And the result is tangible.

And the reward is smiles all around.

And, like Dickens’ spirits, they do it all in one day.

It’s magic.

All that noise penetrating my skull and puncturing my sleep gave me a chance to do a little research for this piece.

After all, if my neighbors were going to raise the roof, so to speak, why shouldn’t I?

So, aiming for an Independence Day release, I began a project that I immediately christened “A Twenty-One Drum Salute.”

The goal, of course, was to list the best drum work ever recorded. But I needed guidelines and came up with these:

- No live performances.

- One song per drummer.

- And I had to love the song.

So, this countdown will not please everyone; in fact, by its narrow, rather narcissistic point of view, it’ll probably crank a lot of people off.

But, hey, have at it.

My list.

My rules.

Let me know what you think.

So, hammers ready?

Let’s light this candle.

Oh, yeah.

One more thing.

I’m only releasing 11 now.

The Top 10 happen next week.

Sorry.

Again, my rules.

Plenty of fireworks now, though.

Plus, the best is always worth waiting for, right?

21. “In the Air Tonight,” Phil Collins (1981): This is one dark tune, all about betrayal and what happens in its aftermath. Collins, who made his mark with Genesis, crashes the simmering calm with a series of downbeats that propel this one into history. Maybe you’ve seen “The Hangover,” in which Tyson times his punch with that explosion of misery. Also featured in “Risky Business.”

20. “Mighty Quinn,” Manfred Mann (1968): This is just an organic moment, one that’s stayed with me since the eighth grade. At the close of the last verse, right before heading into the final chorus, drummer Mike Hugg gets a sound that’s always reminded me of, well, tweaking the jowls of a walrus, specifically Chumley from the “Tennessee Tuxedo” cartoon.

19. “Catch Us If You Can,” Dave Clark Five (1965): Clark was a jackhammer, a human dynamo and if this track isn’t your favorite, well, that’s OK. I’ve always liked the way he gooses the momentum, getting his band to follow him as they roar into the British Invasion. As a drummer who sang lead on most tunes, he was a rarity, especially in an English band.

18. “Boom Boom Mancini,” Warren Zevon (1987): Combine boxing, Zevon’s deft uppercut lyrics and Bill Berry’s wallop and you get a championship song. Berry, on loan from REM, creates an earful of power riffs, just shredding it. There’s nothing refined about his work, but he isn’t seeking subtlety. Like Youngstown’s own fighter, he’s looking for a knockout. And this tune delivers.

17. “Do Ya,” The Move (1972): Precise and controlled, Bev Bevan’s drumming is like a rubber band being stretched almost to the snapping point. All around him, guitars are shooting out sparklers, Jeff Lynne’s lyrics are stomping toward the bedroom, the atmosphere is dense with want and Bevan, well, he just waits in the wings, ready to bring it all down.

16. “Love Shack,” B-52s (1989): Charlie Drayton! Take a bow! This is the signature song from Cosmic Thing, the band’s best-selling album, and you don’t go to many beach parties -- or parties, period -- without hearing it. Drayton’s kick technique has been debated over and over, as in “How did he get that sound?” but the fun of it is just turning it up and enjoying his self-propelled ride.

15. “Pump It Up,” Elvis Costello and the Attractions (1978): New Wave, Old Wave, whatever ... Pete Thomas rides the wave on this track and hammers it home. The slippery organ grabs your attention, but it’s the ferocity of the beat that carries the spirit of the song and then entire record, actually. Titled This Year’s Model, it marked this Elvis as a player in the big leagues.

14. “White Room,” Cream (1968): Ginger Baker’s a freak of nature: a tsunami, a tornado, a torrential tidal wave of sound. There’s no trick he hasn’t mastered and nothing he won’t try. Which isn’t to say he’s a gimmick machine, merely that in Cream’s all-too-brief life span, he did it all. Choosing this one is a mere tip of the cap to the tip of the iceberg that is his legacy. Plus, it was a Top 40 hit, which means it means something to me.

13. “Pink Houses,” John Mellencamp (1984): Kenny Aronoff is a driving piston of a drummer and I remember seeing him, sweating over his kit, his bald head glistening, that gunslinger’s glint in his eye as he muscled his way through a two-hour set in Indianapolis. We were in the fifth row and “Pink Houses” threatened the rafters. Indoors, his fury could hardly be caged.

12. “Look Through Any Window,” The Hollies (1966): I’m not sure if you remember this gem, but I’m certain most don’t recall Bobby Elliott, and the only reason I do is because I looked it up. His explosive performance -- you can almost feel all four of his limbs in action -- is a masterpiece of unrestrained glory. The lyrics, the guitars, the whole feel of it are extensions of Elliott’s genius.

11. “War Pigs,” Black Sabbath (1970): This anthem pretty much ended the Sixties for a lot of disillusioned believers. It was like swilling Robitussin with a Boone’s Farm chaser. A total down. Bill Ward’s lugubrious drumming reflected the deadening morass that Vietnam had become and not even Ozzie Osbourne’s seriocomic Satanic feints could defuse the message that the world was a bad place and about to get worse.

NEXT WEEK: The Top 10 drumming performances of all time... and you don’t want to miss it.