Frank Beard Chose the Man Who Took His Place Behind the Drums
ZZ Top’s first show without Frank Beard carried a quiet weight, even if the band refused to turn it into a funeral. On August 22, 2026, at ACL Live at the Moody Theater in Austin, Texas, the group walked back onstage just days after Beard died at age 77 in hospice care at his ranch in Richmond, Texas. He had been the band’s drummer since 1969, and for many fans, that was the part that seemed impossible to imagine changing.
But the night was not built around grief. Billy Gibbons made that clear early. There was no eulogy, no formal silence, no pause that stretched too long. Instead, the show moved forward with the same rough-edged confidence ZZ Top has always carried. Gibbons mentioned Beard once, and only while introducing Michael Monahan, the drummer now sitting behind the kit.
A Call From Frank Beard
The most revealing detail was not the performance itself, but the story Gibbons told about how the replacement happened. According to Gibbons, it began with a phone call from Frank Beard and Elwood Francis. Beard, who had already stepped back from touring earlier in the year because of health issues, admitted something Gibbons said he had never heard him say before: his bass drum foot was getting weak. He wanted his man, Michael Monahan, to take over.
That single request said a lot about Frank Beard. It was practical, direct, and almost stubborn in its honesty. Gibbons said Monahan had already been doing a good job. Beard’s answer, delivered in the dry way that only made the moment sharper, was that this was exactly what worried him.
“We’re all here for a celebration,” Gibbons told the crowd. “So we’re gonna have a good time.”
Keeping the Groove Alive
From there, the band did what ZZ Top has always done best: it kept moving. The set mixed classic songs, familiar swagger, and the kind of Texas groove that has made the group a fixture for decades. When Gibbons turned toward Monahan and told him to do one for Frank, Monahan smiled and delivered. It was a small moment, but it carried the whole night.
That was the tribute. Not a dramatic pause. Not a speech heavy with ceremony. Just a band choosing to honor its drummer by keeping the music alive in the way he seemed to have asked for.
A Farewell In Their Own Language
For longtime fans, the emotional force of the evening came from what was left unsaid. Frank Beard had been there through the long run, through the identity of ZZ Top becoming bigger than any single era. His death marked the end of one of rock’s most durable rhythms, but the show in Austin suggested that the band understood something important: the best way to remember Frank Beard was to keep the backbeat steady and the room moving.
By the end of the night, it was clear that the band was not trying to replace Frank Beard in spirit, only to carry the work forward the way he wanted. In that sense, the performance felt less like a restart than a continuation. ZZ Top went on stage in Austin with a missing piece, but also with a memory that still had timing, muscle, and pulse.
And that may have been the most fitting tribute of all.
