Rock Drummer Kenny Aronoff: “Adapt or you'll be left behind”

Ten-year-old Kenny Aronoff sat mesmerized as TV’s Ed Sullivan Show introduced the Beatles in February 1964. Like millions of young people at the time, he fantasized about being in that group—or at least in a successful rock band. Unlike nearly all those other Beatles fans, however, he wound up living the dream. 

Besides serving as John Mellencamp’s drummer for nearly two decades, the now 70-year-old Aronoff has toured with artists such as John Fogerty and the Bodeans and played or recorded with everyone from Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen,  and Johnny Cash, to Celine Dion, Meat Loaf, B.B. King. On a TV special marking the 50^th anniversary of the Beatles’ Ed Sullivan Show appearance that had inspired him as a kid, he even performed alongside Sir Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr. You can hear his drumming on records that have sold a total of 300 million copies, and more than 1,300 of the LPs and singles he has played on have been certified gold, platinum, or diamond.

When he was a teenager in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, where his neighbors included Arlo Guthrie and James Taylor, Aronoff taught himself to play drums and performed in local rock bands. Still, his early years gave little hint of his career trajectory. He studied classical music at the University of Massachusetts and the Indiana University School of Music and with the Boston Symphony; performed with orchestras at the Tanglewood and Aspen music festivals; and appeared headed for a position in the classical world. But when he finished college and received offers to join several symphony orchestras, he listened to his heart and turned them down, opting instead to pursue a life in rock and roll.

Three years later, he joined Mellencamp’s band and, today, he ranks among rock’s most in-demand drummers for tours and session work. The author of a 2021 autobiography called Sex, Drums, Rock ‘n’ Roll: The Hardest Hitting Man in Show Business, he finds time to produce a weekly online video show. A frequent user of private lift, he also speaks at corporate events, including a meeting last fall of the International Aircraft Dealers Association.

Aronoff—who exudes enthusiasm about his career and talks as animatedly as he drums—chatted with us from his home studio in Southern California.

What went through your mind when you watched the Beatles on Sullivan?

It was the most exciting thing I'd ever seen. It was the music of my generation with great melodies, great energy. They looked cool, they acted cool. I just wanted a part of that. They grabbed our attention with charm, incredible vocals, incredible beat, incredible pop songs.

Of course, there was great rock before the Beatles.

There was Jerry Lee Lewis, who I played with until he died. There was Little Richard, who was amazing. I could go on and on. But the Beatles just put it all together on many levels. The press liked them, your parents liked them, the kids liked them. And they were relentless. They kept coming up with better and better material. It wasn't like one good song on a record—every song was pretty damn good.

Why did you pursue a career in classical music despite wanting to be in rock from age 10?

Well, my parents wanted me to go to college and they were paying for it. I wanted to rock hard, like the Who, Led Zeppelin, or the Beatles, but I didn't see a path forward. Music was the only thing I really wanted to major in, and there was no school of rock back then. So, the options would be a jazz major or study classical.

I'd been studying with the percussionist from the Boston Symphony Orchestra. So, I went to the University of Massachusetts in Amherst and studied classical music. I always played in rock bands. But I was studying classical with the idea that at least I'll get a gig in an orchestra, teach, you know, make a living playing music. 

Then you attended Juilliard’s program at Aspen?

I was the worst percussionist there. I mean, all these kids had been playing classical since they were little kids, and they wanted to be in an orchestra. I didn't mind being in an orchestra, but I wasn't going to die to be in an orchestra. But I didn't know exactly who I was yet. All I knew is I wanted to be the best at whatever I was. I was very competitive.

The teacher who ran the percussion department at Indiana University was the teacher at Aspen, and that's how I got to Indiana. So I went from U Mass to Aspen to Indiana in one year.

And then a few years later to John Mellencamp. I read how you were canned from his band shortly after you joined it but said you wanted to stay at the sessions and learn. What did you learn?

The biggest thing I learned was to be a team player. It’s not about the individual. When I got fired after two days in the studio, I was devastated. I felt like a loser. But I didn't understand that it's not about what I want to play. It's not about me. It's about serving the song, serving the artist, serving the band, serving the producer. And I went, “My God, I’ve got to learn how to be a great drummer for this guy, for his music. What can I contribute to get that song on the radio and to number one?”

Mellencamp’s American Fool did get to number one and had a number-one single in “Jack & Diane,” but I understand that was a tough album to make.

Hardest record that I've ever made was American Fool because John was going through a divorce, and he almost died in a motorcycle accident the week before. And he was about to lose his record deal. He was in a [expletive] mood. And I walk in and see the co-producer had a metal box. And I went, “Hey, Don [Gehman], what's that?” And he goes, “This is a Linn 1 drum machine. The Bee Gees are using it next door, and we're going to try it on this song ‘Jack and Diane.’” I'm like, “Drum machine! They replace drummers!” I grabbed the machine and the manual and said, “Well, I’m gonna be part of this new technology. I got to learn how to program this thing.”

This is what I call adapt or die. You have to recognize when things are changing in your industry, and you have to adapt or you'll be left behind. So, I started programming what I was playing on the drums on this machine. But afterward, I’m thinking, “Man, what's going on here? Am I in the horse-and-buggy business and the car just showed up? I mean, what's happening to the drummer? Are we obsolete now?”

Then John calls me in and says, “We need a drum part right here after the second chorus—a drum break or solo. I'm like, “On a ballad, you want a drum solo?” And then I went, “OK, serve the song, serve the band, serve your career! You’ve got to come up with a cool part that's going to explode out of little car stereo speakers.” So, my mindset had changed. I was already thinking, “Serve this guy's song, get it on the radio.” I went from being fired two years before to being on a number-one single.

I heard you came close to having a physical fight with Mellencamp during the American Fool sessions.

John was not in a great mood, and he’d fired two guys in the band already. We were playing pool and he kept hitting me on the head with a pool stick and pushing me. I completely lost it and started throwing things around the room, because he put sugar in my face or something. We were just being kids, you know, and he made me crazy. He started running down the hall and I threw a beer bottle at him. I missed him, but he came back into the room, and we were face to face, fist to fist, ready to go at it. I realized if we started fighting, I'd be fired that day. And I realized making this record meant more to me than some stupid fistfight.

You’re still friends?

Oh, yeah. And I've played Kennedy Center Honors with him and the Obama inauguration. I just did a couple of shows with him.

Would you record with him again?

Hey, man, I’d love that. And I don't regret one moment with him because I learned so much. Being part of a band that went from 200 seats a night to 20,000 a night, flying in private jets, and becoming one of the biggest bands in America…oh my God, there are so many things that I learned from that time that I still cherish.

How was working with John Fogerty?

John is one of the greatest songwriters ever in rock and roll. I was just a teenager, and I was listening to Creedence [Clearwater Revival]. And if I'd ever known that I would be playing with John Fogerty and recording with him on and off for 29 years, I wouldn't have believed it. To play all those Creedence songs, there's nothing like it. He told me after the first day of recording his Blue Moon Swamp record in 1995, “You're the drummer I've been looking for my whole life.” And he said, “Would you mind coming back tomorrow to record more music?” I went, “Are you kidding me? I don't mind at all. Of course.”

You also worked with Bob Dylan on his Under the Red Sky album. How was that?

I recorded four days over four months. The only time I spoke to Bob Dylan, I'm sitting in the control room with my back to the door, and he walks in and taps me on the shoulder. He shakes my hand and says, “Kenny! Bob Dylan.” And I never spoke to him again. He was very mysterious and quiet and reserved. He's got glasses on, maybe a ski hat, and a hoodie over it, and he's got big motorcycle gloves on. We never said anything. We just played.

Why did you open your own studio?

I had drum sets in Nashville, New York, Indiana, Japan, and Germany. People would fly me all over the world to make records. Because record sales started to go down, the budgets went down. I realized they’re not gonna fly me from Indiana where I was living anymore. I got a semi, picked up everything out of New York, Nashville, and Indiana, bought a house out here, and created this studio to adapt to the new environment in the music business.

Any thoughts on how that business has changed?

It used to be about people coming together and creating and sharing ideas. It was all about recording together and performing together. Now, with technology, you can make a record all by yourself and grab guitar riffs and bass riffs and drum riffs. It's a whole different world.

You flew privately on tours with Mellencamp?

Yeah. We had our own jet. A Learjet at one point, but then eventually a Citation. And I think we went up a little bit further. I flew with Sammy Hagar when I was in Chickenfoot with him. He had like a nine-seater. Might have been a Citation. Now he's moved up to a bigger jet. With Fogerty, I remember we played Houston, flew to L.A., got a bigger plane, flew to Fiji, fueled up, and then flew to Australia and flew all over Australia in our jet. I mean, that's the way to go. I love it. I drive up to the jet. In 10 minutes, we're taking off.

I understand you’ve had a few close calls in flight.

John [Mellencamp] was in a King Air and me, the bass player, the guitar player, the bodyguard, one of the background singers, and the pilot were in a Cessna 320, and we were partying pretty hard. All of a sudden, I heard the autopilot go off. All the lights on the dashboard were flashing and what you don’t want to hear a pilot say is, “Oh, [expletive]!” The plane’s engine stopped and now it's starting to float down. Thank God those small planes drop slowly. It's not like a Learjet. And the ironic thing is we are somewhat near where Lynyrd Skynyrd's plane went down. I thought I'd read that when the plane’s engine stops, you can't start it. So, I'm sitting there thinking, “We're gonna die.” But he got it going again. When we landed, I got off the plane, laid face down on the pavement, and kissed it.

Another time on that same tour we took off and I'm looking out the window. I'm like, “Oh my God, the wing is on fire! We're on fire!” I scream at the pilot, and he just immediately turns it around and lands it.

When do you fly privately now?

Jim Irsay, the Indianapolis Colts owner, has like $100 million worth of musical equipment and sports collectibles. So, we go to a city and get a venue where you can set up in a museum. People come for free, and he pays for everything. Then we have this badass Jim Irsay Band, and we do like a three-hour show. Jim always sends his jet to pick me up. I could be flying on his jet six, eight times a year.

Also, last year, when I was on tour with Joe Satriani, I was in Huntsville, Alabama, and I had a speaking gig the next morning in San Francisco. The budget was so big that I used a lot of it to get my own private jet so that I could leave the stage, run into a shower, towel down, get dressed, get in the car, get in the jet, and fly to San Francisco so I could make that speaking gig.

Esquire once headlined a story: “Kenny Aronoff Is the Most Famous Drummer You've Never Heard Of.” It’s true that you’re not as well-known as, say, the Rolling Stones’ Charlie Watts. Why do you think that is?

Well, it’s not like Mick Jagger’s band; it’s the Rolling Stones, all the members were equal. That’s part of it. And I left the Mellencamp band in ’96—a long time ago. I’m the guy who plays with a lot of people, so the name is more understated. Even though I’m on TV a lot, people say, “Who’s that guy with the glasses that looks like [David Letterman’s musical director] Paul Shaffer?” 

Steve Van Zandt has said he’s been happy to have Springsteen in the spotlight rather than him. Do you feel similarly, or have you ever wished you could lead a band?

No, I’m totally cool. I am the leader of any band I’m in if you think about it. I’m just not getting paid like the leader. I’m the leader in that you’ve got to follow the drummer—the time, the feel, the tempo. I know what you mean, but I like being the drummer.

You’ve said Mitch Mitchell [of the Jimi Hendrix Experience] and Ringo are two of your favorite rock drummers.

And [Led Zeppelin’s] John Bonham.

How about Max Weinberg?

Max is incredible. He's the perfect drummer for Springsteen.

And the Pretenders’ Martin Chambers?

Oh, I love Martin Chambers. I stole a concept of a fill from him and put it in [Mellencamp’s] “Authority Song.”

Who, living or dead, do you still wish you could play with?

Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix. The Who would be fun, that's for sure. Today, Foo Fighters, Queens of the Stone Age. I would love to have had a supergroup with Sting on bass and vocals and Jeff Beck on guitar.

What music are you listening to these days?

I’m always listening to the music I’m working on. Right now, I’m working on 30 songs for Jim Irsay, 20 for Joe Satriani. At the end of the day, I might listen to Sirius/XM radio. I'll go to the Tom Petty channel, the Springsteen channel, the Beatles channel, the classical channel, the jazz channel. But I don't have a lot of time to listen to outside music. I wish I did.

What are your goals now?

All I want to do is get the most value out of this short life I'm living. I'm not looking for retirement. I'm not a retiring kind of guy. I'm a workaholic. I mean, on New Year's Eve, I was practicing and on New Year's Day, I was practicing. I'm obsessed with my career.

Would you ever consider buying your own jet?

Yeah, damn right, I would. I'd love to own a jet. Are you kidding? I’d love it, man. Forget the yacht. Forget the two or three homes. I'd take an apartment and a jet, call it a day. You know, I haven't gone after a jet, but if the right offer comes across my table, I'm there, man. That'd be the coolest thing. “Come on my jet.”

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This interview has been edited and condensed.

BJT editor Jeff Burger is a longtime music journalist.