Rock and roll isn't exactly a quiet business. But if you’re looking for the epicenter of the noise, the sheer, unadulterated chaos that defined the 1960s and 70s, you’re looking at the Who band drummer. Specifically, you're looking at Keith Moon. Or maybe you're looking at Zak Starkey. Honestly, it depends on when you grew up and how much you value a steady beat versus a total drum kit annihilation.
Most people think of Keith Moon as just a guy who blew up toilets and drove cars into pools. Sure, he did that. But the real story of the drummers who have sat behind Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey is a weird, 60-year saga of genius, tragedy, and some very public firings. It’s not just about hitting things hard. It’s about how you hold together a band that was basically trying to explode from the inside out every single night.
Keith Moon: The Chaos Architect
Let’s get the obvious out of the way. Keith Moon wasn’t just a drummer; he was a lead instrument. Most drummers in 1964 were content to keep time. Not Moon. He joined the band by literally breaking their previous drummer’s gear during an audition. He walked up, told them he could play better, and then proceeded to smash the bass drum pedal to pieces.
The Who band drummer at the time, Doug Sandom, was a professional, steady guy. But Townshend and Daltrey didn't want professional. They wanted a riot. Moon gave them that.
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Why his style was actually "impossible"
If you listen to Live at Leeds, it sounds like a car crash in slow motion, but somehow melodic. Moon didn't use a hi-hat much. Think about that for a second. Most drummers use the hi-hat as their anchor. Moon? He used his cymbals like they were secondary snare drums. He played rolls across his toms that defied the actual laws of physics.
- The "Lead Drumming" Theory: In a normal band, the drummer follows the bass. In the Who, the bass (John Entwistle) was playing lead lines, and Moon was playing whatever he felt like at that exact millisecond.
- The Double Bass Kit: He was one of the first guys to use two bass drums, mostly because he needed the extra volume to compete with Townshend’s wall of Marshalls.
He died in 1978, at just 32. He took 32 Heminevrin tablets—pills meant to help him stop drinking. The irony is thick and miserable. When he died, the "classic" era of the Who died with him, but the seat of the Who band drummer didn't stay empty for long.
The Kenney Jones "Cadillac" Problem
Replacing a legend is a death sentence. Just ask Kenney Jones. He came from the Small Faces and the Faces. He was a great drummer—soulful, steady, and disciplined.
But Roger Daltrey hated it.
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Daltrey once famously described Kenney’s playing as "a wheel off a Cadillac stuck onto a Rolls Royce." It’s a great wheel, but it’s the wrong one. The band’s sound shifted in the early 80s with albums like Face Dances. It was glossier. It was "You Better You Bet." It wasn't the thrashing, dangerous Who anymore. Fans felt it, and the band felt it too. By 1983, they were done. Or so they thought.
Zak Starkey: The Long-Distance Runner
Fast forward to 1996. The Who is touring Quadrophenia. They need a drummer who can handle Moon’s complexity but has the discipline of a modern pro. Enter Zak Starkey.
Yes, he’s Ringo Starr’s son. Yes, Keith Moon was his godfather and gave him his first drum kit. But Zak didn't get the gig because of his DNA. He got it because he was the only human being alive who could play like Moon without the self-destruction.
He stayed with them for nearly 30 years. That’s longer than Keith Moon and Kenney Jones combined.
The 2025 Drama
Things got weird recently. In April 2025, news broke that Zak was out. There was this awkward moment at a Royal Albert Hall show where Daltrey stopped the song "The Song Is Over" because he couldn't hear the key. He basically blamed the drums for being too loud.
There were rumors of "firing" and snarky social media posts about "dropping beats." Eventually, Pete Townshend had to step in and clarify that they were a "family," but they wanted Zak to play "more concisely." It’s the same old story: The Who band drummer is always caught between being a wild animal and a metronome.
The Others: Simon Phillips and the "Audience" Member
We can't talk about the Who band drummer without mentioning the 1989 reunion tour. Simon Phillips took the throne then. He was a technical god—precise, powerful, and nothing like Moon. It worked for the 25th-anniversary vibe, but it lacked the "dirt" that makes the Who special.
And then there's Scot Halpin. In 1973, Keith Moon passed out on stage in San Francisco after supposedly consuming horse tranquilizers. Pete Townshend asked the crowd, "Can anyone play the drums?"
A 19-year-old kid named Scot Halpin stepped up. He played three songs, got a jacket from the band, and became a permanent piece of rock trivia. It’s the ultimate "Who band drummer" story because it proves that at its core, the band's rhythm was always a bit of an open-participation riot.
What You Can Learn From the Who's Drumming Legacy
If you're a musician or just a fan, the history of the Who's drum throne offers some pretty blunt lessons about creativity and survival.
- Identity Over Technique: Keith Moon wasn't the most "technically" proficient drummer in the world, but nobody else sounds like him. In a world of AI-perfect beats, find your "mistake" and own it.
- The "Right" Fit Matters More Than Skill: Kenney Jones was a world-class drummer, but he wasn't the right fit for the Who's DNA. If a collaboration feels like you're forcing a Cadillac wheel onto a Rolls Royce, it’s okay to walk away.
- Adaptability is the Only Way to Last: Zak Starkey’s 29-year run happened because he learned how to bridge the gap between Moon's chaos and the requirements of a modern stadium tour.
If you want to hear the difference for yourself, go back and listen to the original studio version of "Won't Get Fooled Again" (Moon), then find a live version from the 1982 tour (Jones), and finally the 2001 Concert for New York City (Starkey).
The Who is currently in a state of "will they, won't they" regarding future tours with their 2026 schedule looking murky. Whether Zak Starkey returns or a new face takes the stool, the role of the Who band drummer remains the most dangerous, exhausting, and celebrated job in rock history. Check out the 1979 documentary The Kids Are Alright for the best footage of Moon in his prime—it's the closest you'll get to seeing the lightning in the bottle before it broke.