Charles Robert Watts was an English drummer who achieved international fame as the drummer for the Rolling Stone. He was one of the band’s longest serving members, joining in January 1963 and remaining a member until his death in 2021. Originally trained as a graphic artist, he started playing drums in London’s rhythm and blues clubs, where he met Brian Jones, Mick jagger and Keith Richards. In January 1963, he joined their fledgling group, the Rolling Stones, as drummer, while doubling as designer of their record sleeves and tour stages. Watts, Jagger and Richards are the only members to have been featured on all of the band’s studio albums. He cited jazz as a major influence on his drumming style. He toured with his own group, the Charlie Watts Quintet, and appeared in London at Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club with the Charlie Watts Tentet.
Unlike many of his contemporaries, like Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham or Keith Moon of the Who, Charlie’s drumming style and drum kit remained close to his jazz roots. His kit was spartan, consisting of about seven items total, including cymbals, and that never changed — even Ringo Starr, who also started with a small kit, expanded as the Beatles progressed. “I was always brought up with the theory that the drummer is an accompanist,” he said in 2008. His most memorable moments with the Stones aren’t five-minute drum solos, but rather small, precise elements that could only have been created by Charlie Watts. Here are seven examples that showcase the best of Watts’s consistent focus on substance over flash, and his belief that less was more.
(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” (1965) Of course, it’s the guitar riff that makes this song memorable — but that riff would be floating aimlessly without Charlie Watts’s steady, unflagging beat holding the thing down. It gives Mick Jagger the scaffolding to hang the lyrics on, and there is not a greater moment in a Rolling Stones concert than that three-second drum break in the song, about a minute in: no no no [break] that’s what I say. There are three of these moments in the song, each consisting of only 10 beats, but it is integral to the song’s greatness:
“Under My Thumb” (1966) As the first moments of this song prove, Watts’ style may have sounded simple but rarely was: He counts off the song and then adds rolling flourishes on the snare before easing back when Jagger’s vocal starts.
“Street Fighting Man” (1968) According to legend, Richards and Watts laid down the basic track for this song at home on cassette, with Watts playing a toy drum kit. They later couldn’t recapture the vibe of the original recording, so they stuck with it, adding overdubs to beef up the sound — proving that a true artist can create greatness with the simplest tools.
“Honky Tonk Women” (1969) The all-percussion intro to this song provides Watts with a rare moment in the spotlight he usually shunned — and ironically, this master of rhythm originally couldn’t get the beat for the song. Producer Jimmy Miller (no mean drummer himself; that’s him covering for Watts on “Happy” and “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”) picked up a cowbell and began clanking out the rhythm that opens the song, and Watts fell in.
“Gimme Shelter” (1969) Here is an example of what happens when the quiet one speaks loudly. This opening track from “Let It Bleed” — arguably the group’s most consistent album — starts off quietly but gradually builds as the instruments join in. Watts begins gently but instantly ramps up the intensity with a couple of snare cracks, shifting the time signature to lead into the vocals. Playing slightly behind the beat, his simple, thudding fills drive home the song’s apocalyptic intensity more than an avalanche of drum rolls could.
“Miss You” (1978) “Sacrilege!” some cried when the Stones “went disco” in 1978, but this lead single from the album that revived their career — after Richards’ long drug travails and general ‘70s malaise — proved that the world’s greatest rock and roll band could still dance. Key to it is Watts’ flawless rhythm, which works equally well on dancefloors and arena floors — and shows that a true master can adapt to any musical context.
‘Beast of Burden’ (1978) Guitar chords open this track, but within a few measures, Watts drops in with his comforting bass-snare-and-high-hat lope that deservedly stays high in the mix throughout. It’s difficult to overstate how important Watts is to both the sweetness and laziness of the song. At times, he seems just a fraction behind the beat, almost creating a stumbling effect that makes you want to kick back and take a trip into the still unexplained meaning of the tune.
In 2006, Watts was elected into the Modern Drummer Hall of Fame; in the same year, Vanity Fair elected him into the International Best Dressed List Hall of Fame. In the estimation of music critic Robert Christgau, Watts was “rock’s greatest drummer”. In 2016, he was ranked 12th on Rolling Stone’s “100 Greatest Drummers of All Time” list.
