There are many reasons why an artist or record producer in Nashville would give drummer Kenny Malone a call for a session. In fact, there probably were as many good reasons to hire Malone as there were sessions to feature him since the '70s. If a session involved music that was uncompromising and lacked commercial glitz, then Malone would be a good drummer to call. If the music was unadulterated country, untainted by touch-ups with the disco airbrush or L.A. country-rock air hose, Malone was your man. The more creativity a session required, the more reason to call Malone. Just the sound he got out of the drums was something that could not be imitated: He developed his own completely individualistic approach to drumming which stood out in every field, including the exceedingly fussy world of jazz drummers.

As an aspect of the country scene, Malone was downright startling. Frequently, Malone would create a drum track using only one stick, leaving his other hand free to create a different set of tones acquired partially through his mastery of conga drums. He was a favorite of the great country producer Owen Bradley, working on many of Bradley's famous three-track productions made in his barn: one track each for singer, backup, and strings. Malone continued to record regularly through the '90s and into the new millennium, appearing on discs by the likes of banjo whiz Béla Fleck, who no doubt admired the drummer's solid bebop chops, and singer and fiddler Alison Krauss, who was probably as just as wild about his authentic down-home feel. Most of all, there was Malone's imagination, capable of making a simple wooden "tick" from the rim effectively embellish the entire tale a country singer was telling. He was the drummer who, upon hearing that a song's lyrics described a woman slitting a man's throat, told the producer to hang tough a moment while he fetched a different cymbal from his van, one that had just the right "scream" for the job.

Malone was raised in Denver, Colorado and served in the Navy band in Washington, D.C. He eventually became head of the percussion department at the Armed Forces School of Music before relocating to Tennessee in 1970. He was a hit on the Nashville scene almost immediately, thanks to an innovative style that was always just as closely wrapped up in the meaning of the songs as his throat-slitting cymbal search would indicate. His involvement with the material set a standard for a so-called "musical" drummer in the Nashville studios. There was never time for long, concentrated studies of the material, either -- the Nashville session scene is known for players who are remarkably quick studies. Malone was thought to be one of the most recorded drummers in Nashville history, although the lack of complete information on many of the city's sessions over the years makes determining such a fact something of an impossibility. If one comes across a list of 200 records featuring Malone, be sure of one thing: It's an incomplete list, perhaps not even a half of the total. He has played on some of the biggest hit records in country, including Crystal Gayle's "Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue," Dobie Gray's "Drift Away," and Michael Johnson's "Bluer Than Blue." In the mid-'80s, he was a founder of the group Tone Patrol, also featuring bassist Dave Pomeroy and percussionist Sam Bacco. This group was one of the main outlets for Malone's modern jazz interests, and was not in high demand in the supremely un-jazzy Nashville. The group released two albums, however, and for years enjoyed the status as the only modern jazz group in town.

The popularity of the heavily jazz-influenced "new acoustic" genre in the '90s, with artists such as Fleck, violinist Mark O'Connor, bassist Edgar Meyer, and dobro player Jerry Douglas, wound up justifying this creative aspect of Malone's playing on a commercial level as well. He was the perfect percussionist to play on these types of sessions, starting with a series of seminal newgrass outings with the New Grass Revival and the IIIrd Tyme Out. The balance problems between a drum set and acoustic instruments didn't faze Malone at all -- he'd play a clay pot if that blended better, or hit the snare drum with just his fingertips. "He hits anything that's lying around," one of his employers said of Malone. On a session with old-time maestro Doc Watson, Malone was credited with just playing "things." Considering this, it is no surprise that he was a designer and builder of instruments, a hobby he first got into out of frustration after a thief made off with his favorite set of drums. He often worked on instrument building with Bacco, with whom he developed the "Shak-ka," a versatile wood and metal shaker, and an original clay drum called the "Og." The latter monstrosity was a 59-pound double-headed, tuned, hand drum. Malone was also highly in demand on the Christian recording scene, a genre that helped pay the bills in the Nashville studios. Kenny Malone died on August 26, 2021 in Nashville at the age of 83. ~ Eugene Chadbourne, Rovi