Nothing More: Gerry Conway (1947-2024)

One of the things that comes part and parcel with being a fairly hardcore and lifelong music nerd is an obsessive attention to liner notes and other musical reference source materials, through which I and others like me learn about the working “below the fold” musicians who often make defining contributions their headlining artists’ best works, unbeknownst to most casual listeners. English drummer Gerry Conway, who died of motor neurone disease yesterday at the age of 76, is an extraordinary example of that phenomenon, contributing to a vast and influential discography, much of it right square in my wheelhouse, making him one of those players whose name on a credit sheet would immediately attract my attention, even if I might not otherwise be interested.

The Discogs Website (a truly superb resources for learning who did what with whom and when) cites 344 credits for Conway, only one of which bears his name on its front cover as a featured artist: 1995’s About Thyme, credited to Jacqui McShee (Conway’s wife), Conway, and Spencer Cozens. But, boy oh boy, when you dig into the other 343 records, their reach and quality is exceptional. For me, personally, I own and love records by the following artists who deployed Gerry Conway as their solid-in-the-pocket time-keeper and percussive accent-maker at some point in their histories:

Eclection
Sandy Denny
Fotheringay
Iain Matthews/Matthews Southern Comfort
The Incredible String Band/Mike Heron
Steeleye Span/Maddy Prior and Tim Hart
Cat Stevens
Magna Carta
Mick Greenwood
Fairport Convention/Richard Thompson/Simon Nicol
Neil Innes/GRIMMS
John Cale
Jethro Tull/Ian Anderson
Kate and Anna McGarrigle
Pentangle

While I’d guess that, at some points in his long career as a gigging professional, Gerry Conway took some drum solos in live or studio settings, none of them readily spring to mind when I think about his best work. He wasn’t a Bonham-esque crusher or a Moon-y chaos-engine, or a Baker-phile devotee of diverting the flow of a show for self-indulgent crash-and-bash interludes. But he was masterful at serving the songs he played on, subtly when necessary, and in-your-face when required, equally accomplished in both modes. Conway had a fine sense of tempo and time-keeping, which served him well, especially when working with some of the complex, yet fragile, rhythms of the English folk-rock idiom in which he played for half-a-century. But then, he was also Cat Stevens’ drummer during that artist’s critical heyday, playing arenas, and showing up regularly on pop and classic-rock radio, even if you didn’t know it was him at the skins.

I wanted to take a moment today to remember and celebrate Gerry Conway’s work by sharing ten cuts that move me, and upon which he left a tangible creative mark, in hopes that perhaps they’ll work for you, too, and lead you to explore other facets of his rich catalog. I’ve purposefully included his first studio release, with Eclection, and his last, with Fairport Convention, as well as the Fotheringay song whose title is used in this post’s headline. I was somewhat surprised and saddened when the seemingly-immortal Fairport had announced Conway’s retirement a few years back, though given the progressive nature of the disease that killed him, I suspect his obituary explains why he was no longer able to pursue his percussive passions after his diagnosis. Nicely and fittingly enough, Conway’s seat with Fairport was filled by Dave Mattacks, perhaps his most closely-analogous drummer, with similarly rich experiences with a similarly-broad folk-rock-centric caste of leading characters; it wasn’t the first time that the two have traded seats over the courses of their long careers.

In any case, lift a glass of your chosen libation to a great drummer and percussionist, and dig the tunes that follow, lending an attentive ear to the ways that they are shaped and accented by the textures and touches of their rhythms. RIP, Gerry Conway. You were appreciated.

Eclection, “In Her Mind,” from Eclection (1968)