Classic Rock Drum Solos That Still Give Us Chills Every Time We Listen

It's too easy for drummers to not get the love they deserve. They sit in the back and bang around on their kit while a hammy frontperson drowns in attention, a guitarist shreds their way to glory, or a bassist, uh ... plucks some notes? But far from being a mere human metronome (at least if bands are writing their music right), drums ought to interweave with and support the rhythms of all other instruments while also propelling a track forward. Sometimes, they even push to the forefront, like in the case of chill-inducing classic rock drum solos.

But first, a drum solo isn't necessarily when the drums are the only instrument playing, although this might be the case. Think of a drum solo like a guitar solo, where the drums plainly stand out and take center stage even if other instruments continue to play. This was certainly the case during classic rock's golden era of 1964 to 1982 (roughly Beatlemania through the early Reagan administration), which defines the time period we're targeting. And when we say "gives us chills," we're talking about being awed by a variety of things: the technical virtuosity, energy, or creativity on display, a singular lightning-in-a-bottle performance, or even the placement or influence of a solo within the greater chain of rock history.

On that note, we've got a couple rock-changing solos from legendary Zeppelin drummer John Bonham and Steely Dan drummer Steve Gadd, plus top-of-their-game solos from Rush's Neil Peart and King Crimson's original drummer, Michael Giles. We've also got a one-of-a-kind solo from the Beatles' own Ringo Starr.

Ringo Starr has gotten some flak in recent years for being what some consider an under-accomplished, too-simple drummer. Of course, folks nowadays expect flash, pizzazz, and showmanship along the lines of internet drumming sensation El Estepario Siberiano (who is a legitimately amazing drummer, yes). But as one Beatles fan rightfully pointed out on a Reddit thread, Ringo's playing was "the best example of 'serving the song,'" as Ringo played what was needed to support the Beatles' music and didn't bully his way to the forefront. One time, though, Ringo let his chops shine. Only once, on 1969's "Abbey Road" — the Beatles' last recorded album — on the aptly named "The End."

Ringo's solo comes first in "The End," a song that's basically a through-composed (no repeating sections) series of solos from each Beatle that features one of the most moving, elegantly simple lyrics the Beatles ever wrote: "And in the end, the love you take / Is equal to the love you make." Ringo's solo comes first and is a legitimately groovy, stank-face-inducing affair that does what Ringo always did best: make the most out of the smallest pieces (largely kick drum and toms in this case). Also, the solo is only eight measures, so it didn't violate Ringo's (or the other Beatles') distaste for overly long, flashy solos that broke apart songs and didn't fit.

In the end, Paul McCartney, who had a largely respectful relationship with Ringo Starr, convinced the drummer to add the solo to "The End" because the piece was supposed to be a capstone that showcased each Beatles member. That's reason in and of itself for Ringo's only solo to give us chills. 

We just mentioned Ringo Starr's dislike for lengthy drum solos, right? That's exactly what we've got next: John Bonham's drum solo from "Moby Dick" off Led Zeppelin's second 1969 album, "Led Zeppelin II." There are loads upon loads of Bonham works we could've chosen, especially from improvised live performances, as his rhythmic instincts and virtuosic control made his drumming awe-inspiring across the board. His solo on "Moby Dick," though, has not only taken on legendary status over time but also gotten longer while Bonham was alive in the lead-up to his untimely, tragic 1980 death. And so the solo also serves as a chill-inducing reminder of what was lost.

The original drum solo from "Moby Dick" takes up most of the song, lasting from about one minute to the return of the song's main riff at the very end. It's got passages and movements like its own standalone piece of music, plays around with rhythmic changeups, incorporates an ebb and tide of varying polyrhythms over time (different hands or feet playing different percussive instruments at different time signatures), but somehow keeps the central feeling of "Moby Dick's" core groove. It's enough to melt not just any drummer's face but also any face, period.

Come one mythical 1977 performance at Earl's Court, London, and Bonham expanded his original solo from about three minutes to an impossible 17 minutes. The physical stamina needed to not only play this solo but also maintain it at Bonham's level of expertise is truly god-like. That night's solo is made even more impactful when we know that Bonham dedicated it to his son, who had followed in his father's drumming footsteps by age 5.

We're going to run out of superlatives if we continue talking about amazing drummers. But, well, what else can we do in the case of Rush's Neil Peart? Landing him in the top five (or even top two) of practically every list of history's greatest drummers, Peart's playing was as ferocious and vibrant as it was creative, virtuosic, and instinctive. On no song is this more clear than "YYZ." Not the studio version from 1981's "Moving Pictures," but the live version from "Exit ... Stage Left" the same year. We're just lucky that we can include it in this article, coming in toward the end of classic rock's golden era.

The time difference between the studio and live versions of "YYZ" frames the story of Peart's drum solo: four minutes, 23 seconds versus seven minutes, 44 seconds. That's about three minutes of evolving grooves, percussive layers coming and going, weaving in and out, and a drum timbre that's oddly melodic (across all toms, especially). It's like a separate song nested within "YYZ," one that sounds just as multi-instrumental as the full "YYZ" track. But the drum solo still perfectly segues back into the remainder of "YYZ" without skipping a beat — literally.

To add to the absolute, chill-inducing genius of this solo (and "YYZ" on a whole), the song is about a shifting, layered, multi-part fusion of chaotic elements. YYZ is the airport code for Toronto Pearson International Airport, full of hustle and bustle. All it took for the song to take off was Peart hearing a "morse code beep" from a cockpit, as he told CBC in 2014. That code became the song's iconic opening 10/8 time guitar riff. Sadly, the Rush drummer died in 2020.

It's wild to think that King Crimson's proggiest-of-prog rock debuts came out in 1969, the same year as "Abbey Road" and Ringo Starr's only drum solo, ever. We say this because there couldn't be a more different songwriting approach than the Beatles to Crimson, with the latter stuffing as much into every song as possible, to the point of stretching the limits of listener patience and ability to follow the music. This is true right down to the drum solo in the band's first song from its first album, the lengthy-titled "21st Century Schizoid Man (Including Mirrors)" from the album "In the Court of the Crimson King (An Observation by King Crimson)."

At about seven minutes long, "21st Century Schizoid Man" is the second-shortest song on its album. Driven by a lead saxophone and syncopated bass, the song shifts out of its main theme at about two minutes, returns to it by about five minutes, 50 seconds, and in between functions like a prolonged jam session where bass, lead guitar, sax, and drums take turns in the forefront. This whole portrait is necessary to understand the brilliance of Michael Giles' drumming, which, aside from being sickeningly in-the-pocket and saturated with jazzy rolls and snare work, perfectly syncs with all other musicians.

Sadly, Giles left the band the very year that Crimson released their debut due to creative differences and difficulties touring. Crimson wound up cycling through an astonishing 13 drummers over the years (that we can count), but Giles remains untouchable in many ways and recognized by fans to this day. Rush drummer Neil Peart even ranked Giles with Led Zeppelin drummer John Bonham in terms of influences.

Now we come to a whopper of an album built on the talents of 30 musicians over seven tracks and 40 minutes of time: Steely Dan's 1977 "Aja." But out of all the talent on display, it's track two — the album's title track — that features two profoundly amazing drum solos from the stupendous Steve Gadd. According to Steve Carlton (cousin of session guitarist Larry Carlton who recorded for "Aja") by way of friend of the entire musician industry Rick Beato on YouTube, Gadd recorded his parts in a mere 20 minutes playing off one, big chart.   

Like we said, Gadd's got two jazzy guitar solos on "Aja," both of which are feats of technicality and creativity. The first one is a short solo that comes in at about five minutes, 15 seconds and plays off the saxophone, while the second one hits at about seven minutes, plays off the piano, and runs all the way till the song fades out. If the first solo catches your attention, then the second one, full of tom fills and an intricate tom-kick back-and-forth, ought to make your eyebrows scale your forehead and chills run down your spine. 

As Gadd told Beato in an interview on YouTube, the Steely Dan crew wanted the final drum solo for "Aja" to take the song in a different direction, i.e., stand out from the rest of the music and go a little nuts. Gadd indeed went off the chain as instructed, and as a result constructed one of the most memorable drum solos in classic rock history.