A Tribute To Walter Becker - The Man Didn't Give A Fuck

“I bet there was a time when you heard those Steely Dan Tracks coming from the radio and thought, that band sounds amazing.”

Writer and broadcaster John Kelly’s reaction to the sad passing of Walter Becker, one half – along with Donald Fagen – of supreme seventies sophisticates Steely Dan, sums up their appeal. That band sounds amazing. As a glorious amalgamation of rock, jazz, pop and r & b, all topped off with a savagely hip lyrical nous, they were right up there with the very best.

Walter Becker succumbed to an undisclosed illness on September 3, 2017. Born in 1951, he was 66 years of age. It was the end of a glorious, but often troubled, journey – one that, in spite of the twists, turns and occasional derailment, leaves an extraordinary legacy of music that was subtle and adventurous, and which has become, indisputably, a vital part of the canon.

BLACK FRIDAY

Walter Becker first met up with Donald Fagen at Bard College in New York State in 1967. They soon moved to Brooklyn to give song-writing a go together. Things didn’t really pan out as they imagined, although they did manage to get Barbara Streisand to record ‘I Mean To Shine’ in 1971, which, listened to today, could pass as an outtake from their own first album.

A meeting with producer Gary Kutz prompted their move to the West Coast, and the conception and formation of Steely Dan, the name taken from a lady’s “bedroom friend” in William Burroughs’ controversial Naked Lunch. Hipsters Fagen and Becker were laying out their stall early.

Ace guitarist Greg Boland of Scullion – also a key man in the ‘Dan tribute band Aja – knows the Steely Dan myth, and their output, better than most. He has his own musician’s take on Walter Becker’s contribution to the magic of Steely Dan. “For a start, he had a huge input on the concept of the band, which developed over the years,” Greg reflects. “It’s hard to separate the two main men, but Becker was a big part of the writing, the arranging, and, of course, the lyrics.”

The band’s 1972 debut Can’t Buy A Thrill, with ‘Do It Again’, RTE favourite ‘Reeling In The Years’, ‘Dirty Work’ and ‘Midnight Cruisers’ among its highlights, sounds almost like an advertisement for some long lost FM station. As well as co-writing and arranging, Becker played bass and provided backing vocals. “When they started out, the sound was that of an American classic rock band. They had much in common with acts like the Doobie Brothers and Little Feat, although the lyrical content was unique,” Greg adds.

The following year’s Countdown To Ecstasy saw Fagen’s vocals brought to the forefront, on songs like the cynical, prescient attack on celebrity ‘Show Biz Kids’ – from which Welsh Pop oddballs Super Furry Animals would take one throwaway line and construct five of their finest minutes in ‘The Man Don’t Give A Fuck’ – and the Stax-like ‘My Old School’. 1974’s Pretzel Logic restored their chart presence, with their biggest hit, ‘Rikki Don’t Lose That Number’. The songs were deliberately shorter, but touches like the bass lift from Horace Silver’s ‘Song For My Father’ on ‘Rikki’, and the nod to the genius of Charlie in ‘Parker’s Band’ show where their hearts really lay. Their only released studio cover, Duke Ellington’s ‘East St. Louis Toodle-Oo’, is also here. Not for them the Chuck Berry or Robert Johnson cuts favoured by so many.

By the time of Katy Lied in ‘75 and The Royal Scam in ‘76, their brief flirtation with touring and being an actual band was a distant memory. They preferred to rack up the studio bills, using famous names like Jeff Porcaro, Michael McDonald, and Larry Carlton as colours to paint with. The results, like ‘Black Friday’ and ‘Haitian Divorce’, suggest it was money well spent.

“Personally, my favourite is The Royal Scam, I love the guitar, Larry Carlton in particular,” Greg says, after some reflection. “Becker’s role evolved as was needed, always serving the music, the hallmark of which is the incredible guitar playing by a whole list of amazing players. Jeff Baxter and Denny Dias were there at the start, so Becker played the bass before moving to guitar, as they became more studio-based. He was a very fine player, and developed a unique style.”

LITTLE MOVIES

Perhaps this was one of Becker’s and Fagen’s greatest strengths: they were savvy enough to step back to let someone more suited play a part. I put it to Greg, who sees me and raises the stakes.

“They could conceptualise the whole project,” he states, “casting the right player for a particular song, like a actors in a play. Neither of them had a problem with standing back.”

Aja (1977) became the band’s best-selling album, featuring such wonders as ‘Deacon Blues’, ‘Josie’, and ‘Peg’ – later the basis for the De La Soul classic, ‘Eye Know’ – as well as the miraculous duel between drummer Steve Gadd and saxophonist Wayne Shorter on the monumental title track. The album is apparently a favourite of Larry Mullen Jr, which makes a lot of sense. Want to test that new hi-fi gear? This is the record to use. Standalone soundtrack contribution, ‘FM (No Static At All)’, one of the seventies most perfect singles, followed a year later. It would win engineer, ‘The Immortal’ Roger Nichols, the second of three Grammy awards in a row.

“They opened up the studio in a way that had not really been done since The Beatles,” says US singer-songwriter John Murry, who’s now resident in Kilkenny. “That is pretty important. They took advantage of the studio space, and it was during the time when I was making my record The Graceless Age that I came to understand them.

“I don’t think people listen to the lyrics enough. But because the music is not gritty, lyrically, they can get away with a lot more. There’s so much heartbreak in there. Maybe there’s a little bit of punk rock in there too. They can be cheesy, but it’s fine. Being unable to explain why you love something is indicative of its genius.”

“As a drummer, there was so much to learn from in there,” notes Frames sticks-man Graham Hopkins. “They had these amazing grooves that were not overly technical. That fed into a lot, from punk to New York hip-hop. If you take a song like ‘Peg’, it ended up being used by De La Soul. It goes to show how inspirational they were. They were this band who hit the nail on the head repeatedly, because they covered so many bases, and that has rubbed off on countless other people’s songs.”

Legal record company hassles weren’t the only delay to 1980’s Gaucho. Becker had developed a proper heroin habit, and the death of his long-time girlfriend by drug overdose was a savage blow. If all that wasn’t enough, he was then run over by a taxi, mangling his right leg. The mixing process was fraught to say the least and all were happy to see the back of the album upon its release, although its quality belies the pangs of its birth.

Songs like ‘Babylon Sisters’ and ‘Glamour Profession’ – “little movies” as Greg calls them – could double as potential screenplays. This lyrical depth wasn’t the sort of thing you’d find on the latest Foghat album, and we could spend a week discussing it. Google ‘Steely Dan Dictionary’ for an in depth examination, but be prepared to lose days.

Things had gone sufficiently awry that they quietly separated in 1981. Becker managed to clean up, moving with his family to Hawaii and becoming an amateur avocado farmer; he kept a hand in the music business, producing Rickie Lee Jones and the none-more-eighties China Crisis. The duo never really fell out, working on each other’s solo records, as well as Rosie Vela’s Zazu in 1986, before reuniting properly for Two Against Nature (2000) and Everything Must Go (2003). Grammies and Hall of Fame awards followed, as well as successful tours, but these albums pale when set against the seventies masterpieces.

“There are certain Steely Dan songs, and you feel like you never didn’t know them,” says Irish folk musician Mary Stokes. “I’m thinking of tracks like ‘Ricky Don’t Lose That Number’, ‘Reelin’ In The Years’ and ‘Do It Again’. Their flourishing in the LA scene gave their sound an urgency and creativity to be admired, indeed envied. They brought jazz and other elements together with such panache, they were truly trailblazers.”

A Steely Dan Dublin show, the first since 1996, was announced earlier this year for late October, with a second quickly added as tickets flew out. Becker’s passing briefly threw these into doubt, but Fagen quickly confirmed they would go ahead. This might seem a cold move, but one should consider that ill health had already seen Becker miss several shows.

“I intend to keep the music we created together alive as long as I can with the Steely Dan band,” Donald Fagen said in a statement. Fans will make of that what they will – but the gigs, presented as part of BluesFest 2017 in Dublin, with The Doobie Brothers in support, should serve as a fitting tribute to Walter Becker’s huge contribution.

“I’m sure they were aware that he was ill and most likely discussed it,” says Boland. “His performance can be covered, whereas Fagen is a necessary presence. If he had gone, I don’t think they could have continued.”

Steely Dan, and by extension Becker, introduced a hip sophistication into rock that seemed miles away from their three chord contemporaries. Greg Boland: “They were laughed at by punks and became a swear word for a time but the irony is that here was a band named after a vibrator with some very dark lyrics, I mean how subversive can you get? I think a lot of people missed that.”

Of course, all the sophisticated jazz arrangements, beat poetry and hipster speak wouldn’t mean a thing if their music wasn’t also whistleable by even the most tone deaf of milkmen. Put on Aja or Gaucho, turn it up, and luxuriate in some of the most perfect music ever recorded. That band sounds amazing.

Donald Fagen pays tribute to Walter Becker with Steely Dan at 3Arena, Dublin on October 28 & 30