Charlie Watts and the Backbeat of Leadership

Charles Robert Watts, June 2nd, 1941-August 24th, 2021 (Photo Credit: Mark Seliger)

I am beginning a semi-regular set of musings today, inspired by our having lost a quiet giant of a man yesterday. A gentleman who many of us admired and even loved for the better part of six decades. I am speaking, of course, of Charlie Watts, the drummer for an obscure little band known only as The Rolling Stones. Charlie who loved Jazz. A lifelong aficionado of that musical genre, renowned and adored for its improvisational DNA, he was also, in what he faux-acerbically called his "day job," rock n' roll's steadiest drummer. We can discuss his mastery of the backbeat-the codex of rock-or the languid, "Sunday-morning-brunch-is-a-half-a-carafe-of-champagne-in" feel, or his conversational approach to the groove of a song. But it was his quiet leadership that will, I am reasonably certain, go largely unheralded amidst the avalanche of tributes those of us who loved him and his contributions to music so well have already and will continue to share.

I've seen the Rolling Stones four times across three decades. Nowhere near the fanboy devotion and well-stamped passports of people whom I deeply envy, I am aware. Still, it was a transcendent experience for which I am profoundly grateful today. Each night will live in my memory for as long as it will permit me the pleasure. And Charlie was the bedrock of every one of them.

Mr. Watts was a private, self-effacing man who avoided the limelight, eschewed interviews, and who, once off the road with the World's Greatest Rock N' Roll band, couldn't wait to go home to his family and his jazz quintet. What then can we learn about leadership from this humble, if slightly cranky jazz drummer who begrudgingly accepted that his day job, whether he liked it or he didn't, was going to take up more bandwidth than a man with 100 lifetimes could ever begin to manage? Prima facie, nothing, it would seem. Most of the three people reading this article will never be a part of a group or team to create a piece of art that will define popular culture. Or slam their hand down in the last rap of a drumstick on the snare to signal 80,000 adoring people to cheer, cry and scream their love for your work, feeling more alive than they ever have. It's just not everybody's gig, man. But sooner or later, we all end up either wandering or even stumbling our way into a supportive role of some kind or another. Perhaps behind a peacock or two, where we will have to process our place in our own bands, often wondering what our contributions to that great jam session, from opening riff to final bow, may be.

Charlie Watts' quiet, participative/collaborative leadership spoke with effortless grace and aplomb. His was a language of deference and security, providing a safety net for the flamboyance of the fire bringers to push it as far as their muse took them, safe in the knowledge that he would always steer them home. Think of the business developers, rainmakers, sales professionals, masters of ceremony, proposal-closing presenters, and C-Suite ladies and gentlemen in our careers who push their visions further and farther than many are willing or even able to see at first. Their Promethean prowess notwithstanding, it's the Charlie Wattses of our worlds who simply smirk, shake their heads with amusement, and voice their quiet support through holding down the rhythm section of our organizational efforts, adding a punctuating fill to signal the apex of ascending drama or redirecting the machine through a change of dynamics to keep the jam alive. Where would the frontwomen and men, the guitar heroes, and heroines in the spotlight, be without the structure that holds up the boards upon which they tread? Can't dance without a beat. When the drummers swing, the singers sing, after all. Mick knew that. Even the most prima of donnas do.

Playing behind icons is a tough gig. If you care enough to compete for that spotlight. That's how Charlie did it, making it seem so effortless, the romantic in me wants to believe. He was content to let the peacocks and pirates of the world emote, preen, pout, shimmy, sachet, and strut their way through the weaving of that sublime virtual tapestry we know as the experience of music, while he politely nodded and winked in ebbing on the revelry.

Stones perpetually rolling, he was the rock at the center of the storm. Keith Richards himself once mused, "Charlie Watts has always been the bed that I lie on musically" when discussing the fellow gang member with whom they, the Stones, all came up together once. It's in these rare moments of quiet reflection that we remember the steady hand of those who, through their willingness to lead through contribution and modest example, facilitate the creation of so many of the pyrotechnics for which we rightfully and so often breathlessly await. Perhaps their finest contribution is to remind us why our walking out onto the dancefloor may well have been the best thing we did with our lives.

Godspeed, Charlie. Charlie who loved Jazz. Thank you for leading through abiding and unselfish love for craft and collaboration.

Hasta Siempre.

Pablo