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My philosophy on playing bass
My recent sit-in with Lori Diamond and Fred Abatelli has got me thinking a bit about my musical career and its current state. While I am basically “not playing” right now, at some point down the road it might be nice to get into some studio work, or maybe find a blues power trio and play a few times a month. That said, I’ve had discussions over the years with several musicians about what I think is important in order to be a good bassist. So I’ve compiled my personal opinion here. Note this is my personal philosophy and in no way means that I have any real clue what I am talking about!
Be the “rock”
I consider the bass to be the foundation of any band. By this, I mean that I as the bassist have the most impact on dynamics, the most impact on tempo, and the most impact on tightness. By their nature, guitars are less impactful on the overall tightness and tempo of a song, and the same could be said for melody-based keyboard parts. And while the drummer certainly has a great measure of control, I consider it my responsibility to ensure that songs are at the correct tempo and the correct feel. I want to be the “rock” or the “glue” that holds the song together, that ties everything together.
My first to-do, whether it’s a new band, a sit-in, a new song, what have you, is to make sure I am absolutely 100% locked in and in tune with my drummer. It’s not called a rhythm section for nothing! But beyond that, I want to be the bridge from drummer to the other musicians, to be the one communicating, making eye contact, and keeping everything together. Good bands take hard work and communication and I want to be 99% sure that my parts are locked in and dependable, so that the other musicians have the freedom to work their magic over the top of my foundation.
Play nice with others
This is vitally important when you play with keyboardists, in particular the talented ones who utilize the full scope of their 88 keys. I’ve been lucky enough to play with several awesome keyboardists over my career, and in doing so I had to learn to play with them across their varying styles. Covers versus original ends up being slightly different, as the covers already have their parts clearly delineated, and if you are both playing the parts as executed, generally you should be fine.
In the case of originals, however, it’s critical that the bassist be highly aware of what the keyboardist is doing musically with their left hand, the hand that handles the bass keyboard parts. Rightfully so, talented players will use their left hand to enhance their keyboard parts, and it becomes necessary for the bassist to find their way around those parts and bring something different to the table to keep from blending in or blurring what the keyboardist is doing in the lower ranges.
It’s also important to key in on the techniques of your drummer and attempt to match your right hand to their rhythm. Many times you can heighten the perception of your riffs and fills by tying the timing of those fills to drum fills. My favorite bass fills are ones where it becomes difficult to separate the hit on the drum head from the pluck of the bass string; this shows tightness and makes both the drum and bass notes shine.
Bring your own sense of melody
I am not going to comment here on the specifics of note choice, because I think that’s hard to abstract away from any particular song. But I will say that you should never be afraid to give your bass parts some sort of melody or melodic impact. Whether it’s inversions against the guitar chords, i.e. walking down as the guitar part ascends, or a completely counterpoint melody to the vocals, as long as you are holding down the tempo and the feel I think it’s completely acceptable to have some melody in your parts and not just sit on the chord root notes or do triad scale walks. There’s nothing wrong with triad patterns, as they certainly have their place and time, but I have never felt obligated to use them where something a little sharper, or bouncier, or catchier might do.
Bring the passion
One thing I will definitely insist on, is to play your notes with conviction. Mean them. Attack them. Even on ballads, go after your notes with emotion. The notes themselves don’t matter from a passion standpoint; if you don’t feel the riff, or feel the fill, or feel the slide, the notes won’t resonate with you or with your audience. If your bass part isn’t making your body move, or your head wiggle a bit, then I would argue you are not committed to the part. There are a lot of bassists out there better than me, but I mean what I play, and that comes across and makes a difference.
Keep the action low
I won’t bother to say much about technique, other than acknowledging that mine is mostly by feel and technically speaking pretty bad, mostly due to my small hands compared to the size of the neck of a bass guitar. While I can write music by hand, and studied here and there with different teachers, I am largely self-taught, can’t sight-read, and have found that my style and ability changes over time the more or less I play.
At the end of my 3-year run with IronHorse Exchange I was probably at the top of my game; despite my small hands I felt a certain sense of synergy with my 5-string Fender J-bass that was the result of a tip I picked up somewhere in a magazine. I read that the higher your string action was, and/or the farther you kept your fingers from the fretboard, that both the time and energy it took to play a note was dramatically increased. It was one of those things that immediately afterward seemed very obvious. Many basses off the shelf do not have extremely low action due to the potential for fret buzz. Still, I took all of my basses in and had them strung as low as I possibly could, and then always kept my fingertips hovering just above the strings. I took them back in for adjustments every couple of months to keep the action tight. My play was faster, cleaner, and less tiring over the course of 3 or 4 60 minute sets of 80s cover material.
Embrace the obscurity
Good bassists are hard to find. Everyone wants to play guitar or drums, and a lot of times someone gets relegated to playing bass and not consciously learning the instrument or focusing on improving. I can say for sure that I would have rather been a smokin’ guitarist, but I got gigs because I was a competent bassist fluent in a variety of styles. There is always a band looking for a good bassist.
What this meant, largely, was that I did not garner the same attention at gigs and elsewhere as a result. Now I will grant you that I’m not the most attractive person, and certainly wasn’t expecting any particular attention, nor was I someone who joined bands to “get girls”, but I think it’s important to note that notoriety is something musicians will at times strive for, and that is part of what leads them down the path of guitarist or vocalist or drummer. Generally speaking most bassists go comparatively unnoticed.
I will stipulate, though, that other musicians will be aware of your contributions and will take notice, and that’s much more important. At least it is to me.
Beware how much you “help” people in the name of the next great usability idea.
I have been involved in many debates about usability over the course of my career. Indeed, each time a new design paradigm or some sort of design meme is introduced, there is always the discussion about how much it helps and whether it is worth the effort to implement it. In particular this becomes a problem on mature user interfaces with larger customer bases that are already familiar with how to get their tasks done via the current UI.
Recently I encountered the same sort of potential risk when driving a rental car. I’m driving a brand spankin’ new fully loaded Ford Explorer right now while on vacation. It’s a great vehicle really, with an enhanced digital dashboard, on-board cameras for backing up, the whole shebang. Handles well, is quiet. I’d consider buying one myself.
Except someone at Ford decided to monkey with the directional signal.
I trust you are aware of the directional signal. It’s the little lever on the left of the steering wheel that you click up into place to indicate a right turn, or click down into place for a left turn. Once you turn the steering wheel back straight, the level clicks back into its original position automatically.
Not so on the new Ford Explorer. On the Ford Explorer, there’s no click into place; when you push it up, it doesn’t stay up. So naturally you immediately think it’s broken. And then once you realize it’s not broken, you discover that the length of time the turn signal stays on is driven by how hard and how long you hold the signal lever in place. If you don’t hold it long enough, it blinks three times and then turns off.
Not only is it extremely confusing, but it goes against every other directional signal design on the road, and in some cases it’s dangerous. What it doesn’t do is make my signal turning easier, even though I can only assume that was the intention of whoever came up with this.
This is a cautionary tale for anyone looking to incorporate the next great design idea, or try to help their customers do things easier than they’ve done before. It’s a good idea to understand the satisfaction level of your customers with your current UI, as well as how your customers are going to react to the changes you implement, especially if they go in the face of current norms that permeate the web today. You run the risk of alienating the people you are trying to help if your designs are not truly intuitive to the people using them, or if you sacrifice familiarity for the next great design concept.
The last thing you want is someone on your website wondering why the turn signal is broken.
Oh, the irony! Vacation off to a great start…
So as a computer programmer I am all too aware of the potential for complete and catastrophic failure of a computer system at any time…and the ramifications that no doubt follow. Such an ironic occurrence, where my life gets a bit shredded by such a failure, occurred last night, when we arrived at San Jose Airport to catch our JetBlue red-eye flight to Boston for our family reunion.
All of the JetBlue computer systems at San Jose Airport were offline.
You can imagine the chaos that followed. The only thing we could do is check in via the online web-enabled kiosks. All of our luggage bag tags? Hand written. Boarding passes? Hand processed. Determining that everyone is on board? Let’s count the open seats. Assigned seating? Heh.
We arrived at 6:20 pm for our 9pm flight, and found ourselves stuck in line to get checked in for an hour; hand writing five bag tags alone took 20 minutes. The flight left late, landed late, and we had bets on how many of our bags were actually going to make the flight to Boston with us. Luckily those 20 minutes were well-used, as everything arrived as it should have. Thankfully the kids slept pretty much the whole flight, at least that part of taking the red-eye went according to plan…but poor Eli got sick at the end and spent most of the time while they were waiting for me to get the rental car with his face in an airsick bag. He’s doing ok now though.
In any event, I feel for those JetBlue employees last night. Talk about a tough job, managing that crisis. I’m just glad it wasn’t my computer system that failed on them!
