If you speak to any muso, they will tell you that the drummer is the beating heart of the band.
Keeping everyone in time, they are more often than not, the unsung heroes of a group. But, if you know anything about music, you would know that a band would truly cease to exist without them.
Clem Burke was undeniably Blondie’s engine room. Yesterday (April 7), he died aged 70 following a private battle with cancer.
Recruited by Debbie Harry and Chris Stein in 1975, Burke helped define the band’s punch and pulse through every record. This dates all the way back to their scrappy self-titled debut to 2017’s Pollinator. Whether they were veering into punk, disco, or new wave pop, Burke’s drumming never wavered—always tight, always sharp, always unmistakably Clem.
In a statement posted by Harry and Stein, Burke was described as “the heartbeat of Blondie”—and they weren’t exaggerating. When the band nearly folded in ’75, it was Burke who held things together, bringing in bassist Gary Valentine to keep the momentum going.
While Blondie’s image often revolved around the cool detachment of Harry’s vocals and Stein’s guitar work, Burke brought the fire. Even during the band’s extended hiatus in the ’80s and ‘90s, he never slowed down—playing with everyone from the Ramones (as Elvis Ramone) to Joan Jett, Iggy Pop, Bob Dylan, and the Eurythmics.
His name appears in liner notes across decades of alternative and rock history, and his style—equal parts punk precision and glam flamboyance—influenced generations.
Tributes have since poured in from all corners of the music world. Tim Burgess called him “the epitome of a super cool drummer.” Johnny Marr remembered him as “one of the good guys.” Garbage, Dave Davies, and Nile Rodgers all offered words of respect. And Ian McCulloch of Echo & The Bunnymen called him “the Charlie Watts of his generation.”
Burke’s final performance with Blondie came at Northern Ireland’s Belsonic festival in 2024. If he knew it would be the last, he didn’t show it. His drumming was still ferocious, still joyful. You can see the footage below.
You could call him a rock and roll survivor. But more accurately, Clem Burke was actually a lifer. A drummer’s drummer whose legacy isn’t just in the records, but in every kid who picked up a pair of sticks and tried to hit like he did.
