Nine years ago tonight, I walked into a music studio in Millburn, clutching my new Fender Squire bass (in Lake Placid Blue) and stepped into the second act of my life in music. Having played piano, clarinet and saxophone from the ages of six to eighteen, I put the horns away when it was clear that I wasn’t talented or committed enough to play at the collegiate level. I bought a very low end bass guitar during my freshman year, 40 years ago, functioning more as a decorative conversation piece for talking about music rather than a new downbeat for my musical exploration. And so I pulled the fader down on playing music until my slightly improved bass and I met Max.
I had always wanted to learn to play bass guitar. While singers and guitarists get the spotlight fronting the band, the bass holds down the rhythm locked in with the drummer, creating a sonic floor and presence for the melodic players. Nine years ago on that January 2015 evening, I was deeply into Phish and that’s where Max (also a Phish fan) and I started. Playing songs you like, rather than etudes, made the mechanics of bass playing come easier. The goal was clear: play that opening riff of “Tweezer” with its impressive octave spans, and in the process learn hand position, good pressure behind the frets, thumb rest, and plucking technique.
Thirty minutes folded up in a tesseract to jump through thirty five years of missing musical performance. Chords, modes, time signatures and phrasing resurfaced from beneath the depths of differential equations, computational theory, and most of a career in technology. In a flash back to my junk bass and dorm step conversation about Lou Reed, Max taught me most of “Sweet Jane” and half an hour later, I smiled back to the car, back home, and back into a life with staves and notes and rests.
With a sincere thank you to Max, Fabian, Diego, Sal, Sam and Natalie, here’s what I’ve learned from a new decade making modern music:
Know and grow your influences. My initial list was Geddy Lee (Rush), Chris Squire (Yes), Tony Levin (King Crimson, Peter Gabriel), Jon Camp (Renaissance), Mike Gordon (Phish), Jaco Pastorious (Weather Report), Mic Todd (Coheed & Cambria). Through lessons I explored James Jamerson (Motown), Ron Carter (most recorded jazz bassist), Pino Pallodino (Pete Townsend solo), Joe Dart (Vulfpeck), and a dozen session bassists who powered through the music of the Laurel Canyon. Hearing how they constructed lines, work with their session or seasoned drummer, and where fills or accents are placed gives you an architectural view of a song, seeing the building before the decorative walls are placed.
Good instruments matter. My studio now holds five basses: A 5-string fun for jazz songs, my “main” Fender Aerodyne (chosen for slim profile that better fits my shorter fingers), a Music Man that has a slightly thicker sound, a short scale Steinberger (in hot rod red) for practice on the road and my first Squire bass, now with a custom painted pick guard. I have bought and sold twice as many basses in nine years, trading at least one instrument a year as I discover more about my playing style, preferences and physical limits. It’s important not to fight with your tools, whether you’re a carpenter, a web site designer, or a musician.
Bassists define their tone. Chris Squire’s heavily flanged, chorus heavy bass will always be the foundational sound of Yes; Tony Levin’s sharp attacks on Peter Gabriel’s “So”; John Entwhistle’s thundering bass on every Who album; Jaco’s ringing, over-tone and chord enhanced lines with the gentle lilt of a fretless neck. I’m not sure what mine is just yet, so I keep playing.
Practice requires discipline. Learning anything new after the age of 50 is remarkably hard. Brain plasticity, or focus, or dedication to the craft all conspire to make new skills more challenging. I make a practice plan - a mix of scales, fingering exercises to build dexterity, singing to improve my ability to discern pitch, then a few songs. I’ll make notes after each practice or lesson, and look for areas of weakness or practice moments that were pure joy rediscovered (playing King Crimson’s “Matte Kudasai” with the Discipline album recording is the most recent).
Playing music again has changed the way I listen to music. Concerts are live sound labs; music streaming lets me walk the transitive closure of track personnel until I come back, in a full circle of fourths, to a riff, a song, or a performance that goes into the upcoming practice notes.
Hal, this is awesome! I’ve been focusing on keyboard for a while so glad to hear about your work on bass. Watch out Paul McCartney!
Perhaps the most Hal sentence ever (beautifully) written: "Thirty minutes folded up in a tesseract to jump through thirty five years of missing musical performance."