Bill Bruford: Marching to Beat of His Own Drum : Jazz: The veteran believes drummers should reach beyond rhythm and stretch into harmony and melody as well. His quartet plays the Strand tonight.

Bill Bruford doesn’t have to worry about traveling to the beat of a different drummer: the evolutionary English percussionist’s own approach to rhythm will do just fine.

“I’ve always felt it was unnecessary to try and cover the work that other drummers are doing so brilliantly,” Bruford, 40, said. “Maybe my time would be better spent trying to find something that other drummers don’t do and see if that proves fruitful.”

Bruford, who brings his Earthworks band to the Strand in Redondo Beach tonight, has long espoused the philosophy that drummers should also reach beyond being mere rhythm players and stretch into the areas of harmony and melody as well.

Putting his money on the line, Bruford--known to pop fans for his work with Yes, King Crimson and, most recently ex-Yes men Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman and Howe--plays the Simmons SDX. The SDX is a state-of-the-art electronic drum set that through a Musical Instrument Digital Interface (MIDI) can be linked to a multitude of other electronic instruments. This set-up allows access to sounds previously only heard in a drummer’s imagination.

“I can play all kinds of exotic things from the sounds of Africa and Latin America to cowbells and gongs or notes and chords. It even sounds like drums sometimes, too,” said the musician who led the fusion band Bruford, with guitarist Allan Holdsworth and bassist Jeff Berlin, from 1978-80.

“I’m kind of on the extreme edge of what a drummer does. I keep a kind of pulse, but it’s very melodic as well. I come up with very intriguing percussion figures and chords that can be jumped on by the guys in the band.”

Bruford’s melodies are usually played on a Yamaha DX-7 synthesizer, which is MIDI-ed to his drums. “The keyboards are triggered from the drum pads,” he explained, “and by hitting the pads at varying velocities, and in different positions, you get a different sound.”

Reflective of Bruford’s singular way of making music is Earthworks, a quartet with Iain Bellamy, saxes, Django Bates, E Flat tenor horn and keyboards and Tim Harries, bass. The band’s most recent LP is “Dig?” (Editions EG) and has everything from avant-garde edgy numbers to serene ballads dappled with electronics.

“A lot of our music is unstructured, but it’s definitely jazz,” he said. “We actually play quite carefully, though in a sloppy kind of way, limiting ourselves to what we feel is effective rather than just wasting notes.”

The leader finds the blending of acoustic and electronic sounds appealing. “Electronics don’t have to be harsh,” he said. “We’re looking for a warm sound, one that provides an entertaining and refreshing kind of jazz.”

Bruford, Bellamy and Bates have been together for almost five years; Harries joined in 1988. That length of time has provided a closeness and musical acuity that leads to exhilarating performances, Bruford said. “I’m still a believer in groups that don’t change personnel often, because when you know each other, you can get spills, chills and cliff-hanging accidents. You have the opportunity to take risks and know that if you make a mess, somebody will be there to clear up the pieces,” he said.

Bruford feels he’s making some of the best music of his 20-year career, thanks in good part to his colleagues.

“With these musicians, I can detach myself and thoroughly enjoy being at the gig of which I’m the drummer. I can also play less. I’m old enough now to realize you don’t have to do the history of drumming in each tune.”

The native of Kent, England, began drumming as a preteen, playing a pair of brushes his sister gave him. As a teen-ager, he was enthralled by the swing and Dixieland drummers he saw on television but they were nothing compared to hearing saxophonist Graham Bond’s R&B;/jazz band, with bassist Jack Bruce and guitarist John McLaughlin, in person. “That group absolutely branded me for life.”

Though jazz-influenced, Bruford first opted to play in rock bands.

“Rock was the exciting place to be in London in 1968-69, much more exciting than jazz, which was asleep,” he said.

“Now it’s exactly the opposite. Jazz, without all the rules and regulations with which it was once encumbered, is infinitely more interesting.”

Despite his prominence in percussion circles, Bruford tends to look upon himself with a stern eye.

“I’m not terribly keen on myself as a musician,” he said. “I have that classic British middle-class inability to pretend I’m any good at anything much. I feel that at any moment somebody might point a finger at me and say, “You’re a charlatan.”

“Half the time I think anybody could do what I do, then I realize that anybody isn’t doing it and I feel better again.”

Ultimately, music helps Bruford get a clearer view of who and what he is.

“I see music as a mirror,” he said. “I can look at myself performing and say that though I might not like what I see, at least that’s what I am and I have an opportunity for changing myself at that point. That change can be both personal and with those around me.”