Freedom in Limitation

I have more basses than I can easily count. I have a couple of 6-string basses, a handful of 5-string basses, and an endless supply of 4-string basses. I have long scale basses, short scale basses, neck-through basses, active basses, passive basses, an acoustic electric bass, an electric upright bass. I even have a couple of broken basses that I’m keeping around with the intent of fixing them.

I might have more basses than I need, though at the time I bought each one of them, I could justify it as something unique. And I’ve upgraded most of my basses, making them more unique than when I bought them.

But for all my basses owned, I’m still an “okay” bass player at best.

My goal, for whatever time I have left on this earth, is to go from “okay bass player” to “Bassist.” In my mind, “Bassist” is one who encompasses the bass, can play what he is thinking, one who makes the instrument an extension of his own mind, his own body, his own soul.

I’m not planning to purge my collection, but I also don’t need all of my basses to unleash the Bassist within. So for the first quarter of 2024, I’m limiting myself to three basses: a Fernandes P-bass, a Fender Jazz bass, and a fretless Fender Jazz bass.

4-strings. 20 frets. Passive electronics. No effects.

I’m not going to be stupid and say, “There’s nothing worth playing that can’t be played on these basses.” 24 frets give you added range, as do additional strings. There are things worth playing on other basses. But the limitation will force me to be creative within the parameters I’m setting for myself. The limitation will eliminate novelty, without being a limitation on advancing from “okay” to “mastery.”

With a little bit of work, by April 1 I’ll no longer be fooling myself with my bass dreams.

The Return

Hey.

How ya been?

I’m not back to make excuses. I’m not even back to make promises. I guess I’m just back to express an intent.

See, 2024 is a year of big changes, whether I’m ready for them or not. I can let them happen to me, or I can make them happen for me.

Yeah, I like that second option better, too.

Enjoy the rest of 2023. See y’all next year.

Gear Review: Ibanez PowerPad bass gig bag

Up until the last few years, I’ve considered myself to firmly be an “Ibanez guy.” My first bass wasn’t an Ibanez, but I gave up the instrument before I graduated high school; when I came back to playing bass in college, I got an Ibanez and I’ve never looked back. Sure, I’ve upgraded components, and I’ve picked up a few duds, but for the most part, you can get any Ibanez bass made from the 1970’s through the 1990’s, and you’re getting a lot of bass for your buck.

I recently made a move, and in packing up my basses, I found that somehow I was short one case/gig bag. Little wonder how it happened: I’m sure I just acquired a new bass (or two?) since my previous move, and since I just rotate what’s out on a guitar stand, I didn’t even consider that if I had a few on guitar stands and only one spare case, I might not have enough to pack them all up. Since I’ve always loved my Ibanez basses (even a few I shouldn’t), and even have an older Ibanez gig bag that’s very good quality, I decided to pick up a PowerPad to house an old SR1200.

I never knew what the “PowerPad” referred to, and now that I have one, it’s still a mystery. I assume it’s a suggestion that you could slide your iPad into the large front pocket – and that pocket does seem to have a little padding that might protect your screen, but that’s a pretty minor modification of the sheet music pocket that you’ll find on any other gig bag you might buy; the padding in that pocket is nice, but I’d still be likely to put my tablet in a separate case anyway, then slide it in that pocket. It’s not a big enough of a factor to sway you to choose this particular gig bag, much less to name your product after it.

Beyond that, I was thoroughly unimpressed. I liked the styling when I pulled it out of the box, but when I unzipped it to put my bass in it, I was disappointed with the lack of padding. Sure, it’s a gig bag, and if you really want to protect your instrument you should be putting it in a case. But I have plenty of gig bags that I’m comfortable commuting with, as long as I can carry on my instrument; I’d be a little nervous getting on the train with the PowerPad. The interior is nice and roomy – almost too big for the Sound Gear basses that were Ibanez’s flagship for so many years, though that may provide room for me to put a little extra padding around my bass when it’s in the gig bag. There is a neck strap inside the bag, nothing fancy, but it’s something you don’t see in every bag.

Like I said, the exterior looked nice; my PowerPad is straight black, it’s pretty tough to screw that up. Front pockets are pretty standard: large sheet music pocket (the “PowerPad,” I assume); smaller pocket in front of the sheet music pocket for spare strings, strap, cord (probably need to pick two of the three); and an envelope-style pocket on top of that, for picks, small items, whatever. There’s a small pocket up by the headstock, but it’s a smaller pocket than I’ve seen on other gig bags, including the older Ibanez bag. It would be too small for spare strings or a strap, might work for a tuner with a patch cable, but I’m not sure how I’ll use it right now.

Another minor issue is that there is only one zipper on the side. When I travel with a bass – even if I’m driving – I like to put a small luggage lock on the zipper just to deter anyone looking for an easy score, and locking the zipper pulls together is a simple way to manage that. There is a plastic hook at the head that I could use with a wire loop lock, but it’s not going to be convenient. Like I said, it’s a minor issue, but it’s also an issue that you generally only see on the cheapest gig bags.

I picked up this PowerPad for about $35 on eBay, and for that I’d say it’s a fair value – not a “deal,” like I was hoping. If I’d paid the $40-50 that I typically see these sold for, I’d have moved from disappointed to angry. If you’re looking for a good gig bag, I’ve found much better value in Kaces, RokSak (these are getting a little harder to find), Warwick’s RockBag, or Ritter.

I mentioned the dates above that made me an “Ibanez guy”; for instruments I’ve picked up made after 2000, it’s a bit more hit or miss. The PowerPad, unfortunately, fits this trend – it’s not necessarily a good value alternative for someone who can’t afford a boutique bass or a classic Fender; it’s more a cheaper alternative, and you get what you paid for. The PowerPad lacks any real power, and is insubstantial in its padding.

I might have to start referring to myself as a “vintage Ibanez guy.”

Jesus Christ Superstar: Alan Spenner’s Unheralded Bass Masterpiece

We know the names of the bass legends, those who stood in front and wowed audiences from the start: Jaco Pastorius, the self-proclaimed “Greatest Bass Player in the World” (and he backed it up); Charles Mingus; Stanley Clarke; Victor Wooten; Geddy Lee; Marcus Miller; Norwood Fisher; Les Claypool; Jack Bruce; John Entwhistle; Bootsy Collins.  We know the superstars whose voices overshadowed their surprisingly good bass chops, like Paul McCartney, and my original inspiration, Sting.  Thanks to the work of Allan Slutsky, previously unknown giants have gained increasing notoriety, at least among bass players: obviously James Jamerson (the ORIGINAL Greatest Bass Player in the World), but from their we paid more attention to guys like Duck Dunn, Chuck Rainey, Nathan East, Bob Babbitt, and Lee Sklar, who may be the most prolific bass player in history.

(I keep thinking of more names to add.  The truth is, there are so many great bass players, and if you’re not specifically mentioned, I do apologize.  Like Ron Carter, I did not mean to forget you.  Or Mark Sandman.  Or Chris Wood.  Or Bernie Edwards.  Moving on.)

For the number of many wonderful bass players whose names we’re at least familiar with, even counting Sklar among their numbers, there are countless recordings with bass players who toil in relative obscurity.  Most are adequate, though many are less than; some are downright terrible (I’ll give Sid Vicious a pass for making up for his inadequacies with monster persona).   And some shine out, even if the spotlight never shines on them.

---

Holidays.  They’re all about the traditions; to this day, I look forward to my chocolate bunny from my mom.  I remember getting up on Easter morning, and spying around the house as I made my way to the living room, looking for any edge over my brother in the Easter egg hunt.  That egg hunt was second only to Christmas morning for excitement; and while I was usually up around 6:00 a.m. on Saturdays to watch “Rocky & Bullwinkle” and “Smurfs,” on those two mornings I think my parents were almost as excited as my brother and I to be out of bed.  “Meaning” was gained as I grew older, and egg hunts were replaced by sunrise church services, and new clothes that couldn’t get dirty under any circumstance.  But as a teenager, understanding, comprehension and meaning were not things usually found at 6:00 a.m. on a Sunday – by that time, I learned that Sunday morning fell after Saturday night.

As I grew older, we lost another tradition that I didn’t even know how much I missed.  I do not come from a musical family, but when I was little – like, single digits young – my dad would play “Jesus Christ Superstar” on our turntable.  When I reached those angsty teen years, as I rejected most of what I believed my parents believed in, “Superstar” was lumped in with John Denver and Stevie Nicks and Helen Reddy for sappy, crappy music my parents liked.  “Rocky Mountain High”? I’d rather be getting high, listen to Bob Marley “Jammin’” about resistance to oppression in “Redemption Song,” imagining myself a “Buffalo Soldier” without having any clue what the term meant.  To this day, I believe Pearl Jam’s Ten and Nirvana’s Nevermind are the seminal albums of their time, because I heard in those albums what I felt in my head daily.  I connected to 2Pac, not because I shared his direct experience, but because in Me Against the World I knew I shared the experience of being alone, but unbowed against the struggle.

At some point, you stop growing older, and decide it might be time to grow up.  I probably had friends who did that faster than I did, but I didn’t have anything like a kid forcing me to grow up fast, it just seemed like the thing to do.  The consistent role models I had were my parents, though even then (or now) I wouldn’t tell them that.  I went to law school, because it seemed a good route to a good job, I stopped riding my bike and started driving a sensible car.  I even started appreciating John Denver, and beat my parents to a Stevie Nicks box set at a yard sale.  (I still have no Helen Reddy, other than “I Am Woman” on a ‘70s compilation somewhere.)

Then, while browsing stacks at a used book store one afternoon, I found the original recording of Jesus Christ Superstar.

---

Even growing up, I knew that Superstar defied the conventions of the growing “Christian rock” genre, and other than “The Last Supper,” didn’t even fit in the contemporary service I enjoyed most growing up.  (The contemporary service really wasn’t, even then – with its soft acoustic strummings, it was probably a relic from 15-20 years earlier.  It was only in comparison with most other church music that it felt at all “contemporary.”)

The first few times I listened to Superstar after getting the album, it was in pure nostalgia.  It was only after this that I started to listen to it.  Jesus Christ Superstar is a straight up rock-funk opera.  The subject matter is religious; the music is top notch.  Even more, the bass playing could be a clinic.

The “Overture” gives an overview of the musical themes to follow, but little clue as to the bass brilliance to follow.  Likewise, the opening song, “Heaven On Their Minds” starts with an intense, sharp guitar riff that builds intensity (and builds in intensity), joined by Murray Head’s vocal and drums, joined by a second screaming guitar and horns as the first verse builds to crescendo as Judas strives for Jesus’s attention (in soliloquy, of course).  The second verse, however, drops the intensity as the lyric moves toward reasoning with the absent Jesus – and what instrument better represents the best of man’s reason than the electric bass?  Spenner bounces, Spenner is busy, Spenner complements without ever challenging the vocals.

The bass never slows down, despite taking until midway through the second song to establish itself – if you care enough about bass to visit a blog like this, you probably already suspect that bass is the foundation of music (and, perhaps, of the whole Universe).  Spenner’s bass is the foundation of the music in Jesus Christ Superstar.  He bubbles through “What’s the Buzz?”, and gently pushes Yvonne Elliman through “Everything’s Alright” (and underscores the “Everything’s Alright” theme below an argument between Judas and Jesus, musically underscoring the tension that everything is not, in fact, alright).  The music changes wildly, sometimes from song to song, but Spenner never lets up, never lets down.  Whether a quicker paced song, like “Simon Zealotes,” or the slower “The Last Supper” (a favorite when I was little, because the apostles’ chorus, “Always hoped that I’d be an apostle, knew that I could make it if I tried,” amused me, and because the music for that chorus was closest to the contemporary services at my church), or even the ragtime styling of “King Herod’s Song,” Spenner is note perfect throughout.

The only place he seems to disappear, unfortunately, is the album’s secondary hit, “I Don’t Know How to Love Him.”  Elliman’s primary accompaniment in the song is an acoustic guitar, and the bass plays a more traditional role of establishing the root – and staying out of the way.  (Coincidentally, the song was an even bigger hit by Helen Reddy – that one artist my parents liked that I could never accept.)

While I would love to attribute the bass brilliance to divine sources, I think the nature of the work ultimately allowed Spenner to shine.  In most rock/pop groups (especially at that time), the primary “voices” go to the singer and the guitarist.  In the rock opera, however, the voices are primarily, well, voices.  Most of the vocalists are tenors or higher, making the bass a more appropriate complement to the singers than a guitar; as a result, in most of the songs the bass establishes itself as the primary melodic instrument, in addition to anchoring the rhythm.  Of course, this takes nothing away from Spenner as a bassist – plenty of musicians find themselves in ideal situations only to deliver flat performances.  You need go no further than the film soundtrack version of Jesus Christ Superstar to witness a far inferior rendition of the same work.

For a story about the Passion of Christ, the only character in Jesus Christ Superstar to come back from the dead is Judas Iscariot, at the opera’s climax, “Superstar.”  After a magnificent brass fanfare to open the song, Spenner takes over with a funk groove that holds its own against anything performed by any of those front-line bass players I listed earlier.  He dances around Murray Head’s vocal, and lifts up the chorus of angels.  Even as the entire heavenly rock orchestra brings the song to its crescendo, Spenner is weaving through the music at a frenetic pace.

---

After “Superstar,” Jesus Christ Superstar ends with two more atmospheric pieces: “The Crucifixion” features a spattering of spoken phrases by Ian Gillan, some avant-garde piano and well-used effects to create a feeling of unease; “John Nineteen: Forty-One” ends the opera with a traditional symphonic postlude.  Neither piece makes use of a bass.

After “Superstar,” Alan Spenner continued to work regularly; while his name is not well known, the artists he worked with certainly are.  Even before Jesus Christ Superstar, Spenner was a regular member of Joe Cocker’s band, even appearing at Woodstock, and had recorded with Leon Russell.  He would go on to work with Roxy Music and Bryan Ferry; Peter Frampton; Mick Taylor (post-Stones); Donovan; Steve Winwood; and Ted Nugent, among others.  Unfortunately, Alan Spenner died of a heart attack in 1991 at age 43, undoubtedly with a lot of music left in him, and before we started giving sidemen and session musicians the acclaim they’ve always deserved.

So do yourself a favor this Easter and borrow my family’s tradition, and take a serious listen to Jesus Christ Superstar.  It’s full of revelations and Easter eggs, and it’s just as flavorful (and healthier for you) as a chocolate bunny.

I’ve Been Doing It Wrong

Not everyone who picks up an instrument has “mastery” as their goal. For some, if it happens, that’s great, but the goal might be just to be able to play some chords for a campfire singalong, or know just enough to impress an attractive member of whatever gender they’re into that they have a sensitive, artistic side. For others, getting together with the guys on the weekend, kicking back with a few brews while kicking out some tunes, daydreaming about hanging up the day job and hitting the road provides a few hours every weekend that makes the work week bearable. I’ve lived for those few hours myself.

In no way am I disparaging those goals. Some of the best times of my life involve any of those three, and they emphasize one of the most practical uses of an art that many might consider impractical: music is a catalyst for connection. Few goals are loftier.

But for some of us, whether from the start or through love that blossoms from the simpler goals, understanding music becomes its own end. Music becomes a catalyst not only for connection to each other, but to something deeper, something primordial, something universal.

I’ve been there for a while.

Maybe that goal is too vague. I’ve had moments when I’ve felt the “universal” flowing through me, but those moments don’t last. Like anyone on a quest for enlightenment, often you get just enough of a tease to know that the quest may be attainable, but far more of your time is spent in the desperate, fruitless yearning.

Since I have quit my day job, not to hit the road for rock ‘n’ roll glory but to stay home for the quiet, contemplative life of a writer (same awful pay, lower overhead), I have from time to time hoped to devote more of my flexible time to digging deeper as a musician, to going down that rabbit hole on my crazy quest for universal connection, perhaps even uncovering the elusive “theory of everything.” Science has not yet succeeded – but music is both an art emanating from the heart and soul, and a science of sound waves interacting in a physical world. If the “theory of everything” is to be found, why shouldn’t it be uncovered by a musician?

I have taken the more traditional, serious paths to such a serious undertaking. I’ve tried to learn music theory, beyond my one college course in the subject. I made a mistake here – I started consuming everything, starting with an 18^th century “Treatise on Harmony” which was enjoyable, and easily read – whether through insatiable curiosity or uncontrolled insecurity, I also picked up The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Music Theory. Actually, it was a little curiosity AND insecurity; arranging is a topic of pure insecurity, and I had already picked up the same author’s The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Arranging and Orchestration, which suggested that it was necessary to study his book on music theory before attempting to understand arranging. Did I mention my insecurity? Of course I did, and this direction fed right into it. The problem was that TCIG to Music Theory presumed NO knowledge, I was bored with it, but felt that the author (obviously an expert, otherwise how was he pegged to write a book on the topic) clearly knew better than I what I needed to know, so I abandoned the harmony treatise, and have never been able to get engaged in the “Idiot’s” book. It’s not that the “Idiot’s” book is bad – it’s just that the author made me feel like an idiot before I ever got started.

This feeling that a “deep understanding” started with a firm grasp of the fundamentals extended from my theoretical study to the practical – my playing itself. It is a good idea to start with warm-ups every day – it is, I don’t deny that in the slightest – but I find myself going back to the beginning, figuring I’ll quickly run through the basic exercises, do a few different scales in all positions from my Bass Grimoire, then . . . be about out of energy to do much else, because it’s hard to get excited about going that far back to basics. It’s as if I had chosen visual art to pursue my muse, and forced myself to start by only using an 8-color box of Crayola’s on line drawings of puppies before advancing. Or if in my writing life I were to engage in a deep study of “Dick and Jane” books to work the progression to Tolkien or Frank Herbert.

The concept is right – fundamentals ARE important. But the approach is wrong. My approach eliminates challenge, which eliminates mental engagement – which over time eliminates the spark of inspiration that made the endeavor first seem worthwhile.

I recently found The Dancing Wu Li Masters: An Overview of the New Physics as a Kindle deal. I know nothing about physics, though I know it would be useful to my quest in a “theory of everything,” and I know a little more than an average New Age devotee about Eastern philosophy. The book itself is not so much about the relationship between physics and traditional Eastern modes of thought, as it is a book about physics using traditional Eastern modes of thought as a metaphor to facilitate the layperson’s understanding.

Beyond the potential application to my “theory of everything,” the title just stimulated my intellectual curiosity. Not everything has to be so serious. Accepting myself means accepting that sometimes, I may want to read a physics book just because I think it sounds interesting.

One of the joys of being intellectually curious is that when you allow your mind to wander in one direction, you may find answers to problems you’ve been having in other directions. Thus it was that the Dancing Wu Li Masters gave me insight to my stalled progress, even regression, in my musical mastery.

Author Gary Zukav actually borrows from Zen master Alan Watts in defining the problem I’ve been having in pursuing my deeper understanding of music. In the foreward to Al Huang’s Embrace Tiger, Return to Mountain, Watts wrote: “The traditional way . . . is to teach by rote, and to give the impression that long periods of boredom are the most essential part of the training. In that way a student may go on for years and years without ever getting the feel of what he is doing.” Hmmm, “long periods of boredom”? “Years without ever getting the feel of what he is doing”? That sounds familiar – not just to me, but to many who pursue music. Sure, countless hours of practice are necessary, but the boredom of this traditional approach surely has many fall by the side, convinced that they are just not cut out to be musicians.

What The Dancing Wu Li Masters attempts to do is get away from this “teaching by rote,” and get to how Watts identifies Huang’s teaching, and how Zukav defines a “Master”: “A Master teaches essence. When the essence is perceived, he teaches what is necessary to expand the perception.” Zukav further explains the purpose of his book in saying, “this book deals not with knowledge, which is always past tense anyway, but with imagination, which is physics come alive, which is Wu Li.”

Working on scales and finger exercises is important for masterful execution. I won’t suggest that exercises to this end are at all wasted, and even if they are “boring,” they must be done. But scales and fingers exercises are elements to music and performance – they are NOT the “essence.” People may appreciate your performance, you may feel more satisfied with your own performance, because of the hours you spend on those activities; in fact, neglecting those activities may hamper your own ability to touch the essence, and will certainly hamper your ability to communicate the essence to a listener.

So how do you start over working the fundamentals, without getting lost in the tedium that blocks your way to the essence?

As Huang explains to Zukav in The Dancing Wu Li Masters, “Every lesson is the first lesson. . . Every time we dance, we do it for the first time. . . . When I say that every lesson is the first lesson, . . . it does not mean that we forget what we already know. It meanst that what we are doing is always new, because we are doing it for the first time.”

This suggests an elegant solution to all of the many times I “start over” after some time away from my instrument, usually as a result of a lack of engagement as I get lost in the tedium of exercises that were barely challenging when I started playing bass. “Starting over” is the problem – the solution, rather, is just to “start.” Music shouldn’t be considered overly mysterious; sure, some knowledge and skills atrophy if not exercised, but the answer to atrophy is stimulation. If I am on a road trip and stop for the night, I don’t find myself the next morning magically transported back to my starting point – I get back in my truck and continue from the point I stopped. In continuing my quest for the essence, rather than re-starting my quest every few months, I will be exercising my fundamentals in a more stimulating manner, challenging myself – I can skip the building blocks, Lincoln Logs and Tinker-Toys, and try my hand at real nuts and bolts.

The important thing in searching for the essence is to always be doing something new.

Bob Dylan, Nobel Laureate

It was unexpected. I was scrolling through the Washington Post, saw another Nobel Prize winner announced.

Bob Dylan? For literature?

We’re so conditioned to think of “literature” as being “books” that my first thought was, “I didn’t realize he wrote a book.” But this is the Nobel Prize, not a Pulitzer – the award is for his body of work, not for an individual piece of work.

Bob Dylan was honored for being, Bob Dylan.

When I used to teach, I would always ask a “Question of the Week” just to get my students engaged. One regular question was, “Who’s your ‘Bob’?” ‘Bob’ is a common name, I figure everyone has somebody that they just think of as ‘Bob,’ whether celebrity or friend or family member (“Bob’s yer uncle”). As a liberal arts student in college, “Let’s listen to some Bob” referred to Bob Marley, whose Legend is a staple of every music collection for liberal arts grads around my age. Even by the time I graduated from college, though, if I was going to “listen to some Bob,” it was almost certainly going to be Dylan.

Another question that I would ask annually would be, “What’s your theme song?” – the song that just makes sense of your life. I have a lot of songs I like, but for me, my “theme song” has always been “Tangled Up in Blue” – without hesitation. The restless, rambling lifestyle and mind-state, the difficulty in making meaningful lasting connections, the notion that the past can feel like illusion, the concept that we all see our shared experiences from “a different point of view” spoke to my personal condition, if not the human condition.

A close second choice for most of my life would be the essential “Like a Rolling Stone,” as I know very well how it feels to be on my own, with no direction home – and often wondering what “home” would feel like.

Bob Dylan has given his voice to countless social justice movements over the last 50+ years, penning “The Times They Are A-Changing,” and “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” and popularizing a blazing rendition of “Maggie’s Farm.” While the Denzel Washington movie brought attention to the injustice done to Rubin Carter after his release, it was no doubt Bob Dylan’s epic “Hurricane” that kept the case in the public consciousness long after his conviction. Based on the heavy use of his music in protests around the world, I would have been less surprised to see Dylan awarded the Nobel Peace Prize – and would have found him more deserving than some.

Of course, he’s much more than a protest singer. For me, his music is some of my earliest memories. My parents’ record collection when I was growing up would probably fit on a 4gb flash drive, but I remember Blood on the Tracks as one of my favorites, from the previously mentioned “Tangled Up in Blue,” to “Idiot Wind,” and the rollicking “Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts,” which is just a lot of fun even before you’re mature enough to realize that Dylan is making a point that Big Jim owns the town’s only diamond mine, and the “hanging judge” being a drunkard. Nashville Skyline didn’t resonate with me the same way, and I didn’t understand why my dad liked “Lay Lady Lay” – but the side of Dylan that I would reject when I was in the stage of my life when I was doing a lot of rejecting makes a whole lot more sense now: “Lay Lady Lay” is one of the most complex love songs I know, trying to be masculine and demanding, while at its heart being vulnerable – “stay with your man a while,” he pleads, in a voice that betrays his fear of spending another night alone. And when I’ve gone through breakdowns in relationships and the break-ups, I’ve turned so many (too many) times to “Don’t Think Twice (It’s All Right)” as my ultimate “F- you” break-up song: “I ain’t sayin’ you treated me unkind/You could have done better but I don’t mind/You just kinda wasted my precious time/But don’t think twice it’s all right.”

When I got my first acoustic guitar after 4 years of playing bass, the first sheet music book I bought was a Bob Dylan collection, and the first song I learned (at age 17) was “Tangled Up in Blue.” Like Adam Duritz of Counting Crows, I wanted to be Bob Dylan. Part of what touched me so much when I read the news about the Nobel Prize was simply the acknowledgement that . . . it matters. Rock music can be an entertainment, it can be a diversion, but it also expresses the human spirit, and the human condition. Bob Dylan now stands alongside Hemingway and Steinbeck, the stories we can tell with popular song can be every bit as meaningful as what you’ll find in the dusty poetry primer you’ve ignored since your freshman English course, and infinitely more accessible.

Bob Dylan has challenged the powerful, championed the causes of the oppressed, told the tales of the common man, and given us visions of a better way to live together. While it took me a few minutes to wrap my mind around the idea of Bob Dylan being a Nobel laureate, the committee got it absolutely right.

Congratulations, Mr. Dylan.

And for the rest of us – the bar just was set a little higher. Let’s prepare to leap.

 

 

Adieu, Maestro

Contrary to popular belief, classical music is far from dying, even if it finds itself confined to the public radio waves in most places.  The music is kept alive by the interpretations of conductors who view scores as more than dusty pages, but as plays with sound waiting for the right performers – and direction.

The music is kept alive by the efforts of great conductors, and Sir Neville Marriner was among the greatest of his generation.  Marriner passed away yesterday at 92.

Sir Neville will be forever associated with the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, an ensemble he founded in his living room with friends.  Even in the 1950’s, who starts a classical music jam band?  Yet from this beginning, the Academy went on to record hundreds of albums, with Sir Neville credited as conductor on over 200 (I say “credited,” because the Academy is supposed to be a “conductorless” orchestra).

The Academy achieved rare popular acclaim for its soundtrack to the 1984 film Amadeus, which won Academy awards (and Golden Globes) for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Actor (F. Murray Abraham, though Tom Hulce was also nominated).  Yet through the superb performances by actors and director and film editors, the music really shines.

I was growing up in a part of the Midwest with friends who were into Quiet Riot, Ratt, Def Leppard, Motley Crue – and the best concerts were at the State Fair.  None of this moved me as much as the Piano Concerto No. 20 in D minor at the end of the Amadeus soundtrack; my parents were happy to indulge me by picking up bargain bin Mozart cassettes, which was a welcome respite for them from hearing “Message In a Bottle” for the 200th time.  I’ll admit, listening to Wolfgang Amadeus made me feel intellectually superior to my peers (as if I needed anything to add to that), and I suppose I adopted a classical punk stance akin to Alex in A Clockwork Orange (the book, and later the film).  What I didn’t realize is that listening to Mozart would connect me to a tradition spanning both continents and centuries.

And Sir Neville Marriner was my gateway pusher.

From Mozart, it was an easy leap to Beethoven, though I rejected Haydn and Handel, and was slow to warm to Bach.  Classical Punk turned to Classical Goth in college, and I became obsessed with my “Dead Russians”: Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, Rachmaninov – especially Rachmaninov, and I found the dark tones “sounded like death”; of course, every liberal arts college kid of my time has a copy of Orff’s “Carmina Burana” in his collection, even if we rarely get past “O Fortuna.”  I moved east from my dark Russians to the lighter strains of the Scandinavians, Grieg and Sibelius, and as I seek a greater calm in my own life in my middle years, I find myself drawn to Vaughan Williams and the English countryside so easily heard in his compositions.

Sir Neville also made me pay attention to conductors as well as composers, and I next sampled some Karajan, always was aware of Bernstein (but not immediately aware of his significance, as I tended to dismiss, in my youth, the Americans as inherently inferior to European conductors), moved through Solti, Previn, Maatzel, Szell, Furtwangler, Abbado; and today will pick up Slatkin, either Jarvi (Neeme, or son Paavo).  I may have looked forward to releases in Gardiner’s Brahms symphony cycle the way most of the industry waited for the new Taylor Swift or Beyonce albums.  Osmo Vanska is my favorite, as his Beethoven cycle opened my ears to music I thought I knew by heart (and has replaced Karajan as my favorite symphony cycle), and made me a believer in Sibelius.

So often when classical music is thrust into the spotlight, the style is forced to overwhelm the substance.  Even after the immense popularity of the Amadeus soundtrack, Sir Neville and the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields never compromised on the quality of their art.  As Sir Neville and the Academy were my introduction to Mozart, I still look to their recordings as the definitive interpretation of most of Mozart’s works.

The Maestro has laid down his baton.  For his contributions throughout a life dedicated to his craft, he has well-earned a standing ovation.  Rest well, Sir Neville.

Earth String: Rocksmith 2014 – Tool or Toy?

I saw the Rocksmith 2014 program for my PS4 in the PlayStation store last week; since the RealTone cable was required to use the program, I instead found a bundle with both the program and the cable. My bundle arrived yesterday, I have already logged three hours of practice/play on it, and I still can’t figure out the answer to that question – is it a tool or a toy?

I was intrigued by Rocksmith because of what it’s not – Guitar Hero. Get the RealTone cable, you plug your own guitar or bass into your console, and you’re good to go. I’ll admit, I’ve never played Guitar Hero (or, if I have – and I may have – I’ve repressed the experience), and I’m snobbish about that – I play real instruments, not press buttons. I had an electronic Simon game when I was a kid, and I’m sure my parents could find it if I really had the urge to do push colored buttons on demand.

While I waited for my bundle to arrive, I saw the add-ons in the PlayStation store – after your initial investment, you can continue to shell out as much as you can afford, as the song library apparently is still growing on a weekly basis. This is both a criticism and a compliment – once I get through the program’s included offerings, I’ll be adding that Smashing Pumpkins bundle to my collection. There’s no need to rush into buying the add-ons, however, as the program comes packed with a selection ranging from The Who and Rush to Artic Monkeys and The Shins. After going straight to the Ramones my first time out to give the program a spin, I’ve been mostly just playing the “recommended” song at the top of the list, whether or not I’m familiar with it. Initially this annoyed me, as I was looking at my accuracy score, and irritated when my score would be relatively low on a song I’d never heard before; now, I see this as a primary advantage of the program, as it forces me outside of my comfort zone.

Getting Started

All right, you get the program, start it up (I had to run an update first – 2014 is the version, which means you’ll surely get to shell out for a new version soon if you go for it), plug in your RealTone cable and calibrate your instrument. I actually went through several guitars (my original intent was to use the program to improve my guitar chops) and basses before settling on my Spector bass. At first, I thought my problem might have been my instruments (I’ve upgraded and wired many of them myself, and while they sound fine through an amp, I generally look in the mirror first when looking for the source of a problem); the Spector is stock, and it seems to work pretty well. Now I’m torn between thinking there might be occasional shorts in the RealTone cable itself, or perhaps more likely, there will just be occasional glitches when you try to use an analog instrument as a digital controller.

The first thing you have to do is set up your focus – Lead Guitar, Rhythm Guitar, or Bass. I started with Lead Guitar, tried Bass, switched again to Rhythm Guitar and back to Lead Guitar, and finally settled back on Bass. It’s a lot of steps, but the point is that the switch is easy to make. The negative is that you also choose your initial difficulty level, but the program then gauges your performance and adjusts accordingly. Great, right? I chose “Novice” for Lead Guitar, but while changing instruments is easy, I couldn’t find anywhere in the menu to change the difficulty – so when I switched to Bass, the level was below my comfort zone, but after doing a few bass exercises, the difficulty was well above my comfort zone on guitar. If you know what you want to use Rocksmith for and stick with it, this won’t be a big deal.

Starting to Play

What you really want to do, though, is play – and Rocksmith offers plenty of ways to do this. Once you’ve set up your track and difficulty, and tune your instrument, you get into the main program menu. Your options are:

• Learn a Song
• Session Mode
• Nonstop Play
• Lessons
• Guitarcade

There’s also a multiplayer mode, but I’m the only one using it on my system – and honestly, if you have another musician to play with, Rocksmith probably isn’t your best playing choice. I haven’t used “Nonstop Play” yet, but it appears to just be a timed practice, with the program playing songs the entire time.

“Learn a Song” is the starting point, both in the menu, and really, in using the program as a whole. As I stated earlier, the basic song library is pretty impressive, and while you might have to purchase add-on songs to get what you’re really after, you’ll probably find something you like to get started.

My first impression is not a good one. I can read music, understand a fair amount of theory, and I’m no snob when it comes to tab – tab is a great way to learn songs quickly. The primary Rocksmith interface is something different altogether. As the song or riff plays, a four-line pattern flows across the screen – and being accustomed to years of looking at bass tab, that was my initial impression. My frustration grew quickly when I learned that the lines represented a section of the fretboard, with the string represented by a color. In all aspects of the game, this is still a problem for me – I learned to play bass with the standard EADG, not the current Red/Yellow/Blue/Orange, so I typically get an error the first time I jump strings while staying on the same fret. The notation also comes toward you as the song plays, making it difficult to see clearly what’s coming up in the song (I’ve played plenty of songs that I’ve never heard before), especially if there’s an open string, indicated by a bar stretching across the notation – and effectively blocking what’s behind it.

If I adjust to the notation, however, the song trainer can actually be a useful practice tool. As I pointed out, the program adjusts its difficulty based on your performance – and this even happens in-song. If the song starts off basic, the program will add additional riffs and techniques, and will even enter “Master” mode, taking away the notation and allowing you to play the song by ear. On the other hand, when I’ve played a song that I’ve never heard before and get a little lost, the program in essence dumbs it down until I build up proficiency.

I’ve only used “Session Mode” a couple of times, but the more I get into the program, the more I suspect this will be one of my favorite tools. You can load a drummer and support instruments and just jam – no score, no funky notation, just a beat and accompaniment to whatever jam you make up. The “Tone Designer” (also on the main menu) gives both options and advice about how to use effects to create your perfect tone, with licensed effects and amps from Marshall, Orange, and Eden; use your tones in Session Mode, and you can get the benefit of thousands of dollars in equipment for the price of the program.

Of course, it takes a while for the drummer to warm up, and that makes it tough to find your groove. Since it plays off of you, it’s no metronome, and you have to focus to keep your time steady – which can be tough if you’re trying to do any kind of groove that’s not a straight 4/4.

The “Lessons” help you get started if you’ve never held a guitar or bass before, and can help you improve your technique even if you’ve been playing for years. Some lessons are just videos, but most start with a video portion demonstrating the technique, followed by a practice portion which asks you to listen to the example then play it yourself, and wraps up with a practice track which forces you to put it all together.

The “Guitarcade” is hit or miss, but may depend on your sound system. I have a decent TV, but don’t have home theater audio, which the game suggests when you boot it up; as a result, a game like “Gone Wailin’” (which asks you to play louder or softer to get bananas) basically turns into an exercise of “play the string hard or not-so-hard” since the actual dynamics don’t cut through the mix of the game music – which ruins what could be a very useful tool. Most of the “Guitarcade” games are set up to look like classic arcade games, and should be fun – I’m a big fan of the “String Skip Saloon,” where I shoot down tough hombres as they bust into the saloon by hitting the appropriate string, and “Duck ReDux” where I shoot ducks by hitting the appropriate fret. But most of the Guitarcade games seem to lack sensitivity, making gameplay frustrating – I’ve already mentioned the weakness with the audio which makes “Gone Wailin’” a good concept poorly executed, but “Ninja Slide N” fails to register when I’ve made my slide, even though I can hear it through the music – and sometimes shout at the TV as I play the required slide two or three times until the game kills me off. I’ve tried playing “Scale Warriors” a few times, but I remain lost on both how the game is supposed to play, and how it is supposed to teach me anything about scales; “Scale Racer” (which has you trying to outrun 5-0 by hitting the indicated degree scale while racing through traffic) does a little better job. Overall, though, the technique trainers in the Guitarcade seem to suffer from not registering the notes played, as if the developer didn’t spend as much time making sure this part of the program worked. It’s a shame, because it honestly has a lot of potential for skill development.

“Score Attack” is located inside the Guitarcade, and is where you take the “Learn a Song” from an accuracy rating to an actual video game score. You can choose to play the song Easy/Medium/Hard, starting with hitting root and accent notes at the beginning, to going through a complete transcription at the upper level. Once you go through the song on Hard without any strikes, you can attempt the Master level, where you play it from memory.

So, Tool or Toy?

I will continue to use Rocksmith 2014, probably because I’m stubborn; I anticipate a long “like/hate” relationship.

I think your enjoyment of the program probably depends on your experience before you use it. I didn’t own a video game console until about six months ago, but I’ve been playing bass longer than most of the PlayStation’s prime market has been alive; I suspect most people who are familiar with any kind of notation would be as confused as I get with the program’s primary interface – my neighbors are probably about ready to have me committed if they hear me shout at the TV again, “It’s the A string, not the yellow string!!! I play music, damn it!!!” On the other hand, if your experience was Guitar Hero, Rocksmith probably makes perfect sense, and your neighbors are happy for you as they hear you gleefully exclaim, “This is so awesome!!! I’m playing real music!!!”

And that’s not intended to be snobbish, it’s just that Rocksmith 2014 seems to be designed for people who are moving from a game like Guitar Hero to actually learning to play a guitar or bass – or for parents who have had that dusty guitar sitting around, and never picked it up until they saw a way to use the game console to pursue their own interests. Even the way the strings are displayed in the interface tends to throw me off when I start playing – and I went from bemused to amused when I realized that it was displaying it in what should be a mirror image for the user, again confusing since it looks so much like tab, but it makes perfect sense if you’re used to seeing the world through selfies. Because the interface is more video game than traditional music notation, I think a novice would have an easier learning curve than a more experienced player.

With Rocksmith bearing a date of 2014, I’m sure we’re about due for an updated program. While I acknowledge that Rocksmith will help me be a better bass player, I would NOT recommend anyone drop the full price on a new version unless the program lags in the lessons and technique trainers are improved. Learning music can be hard enough; you don’t need feedback telling you you’re doing it wrong when the main weakness is a program glitch.

Ultimately, I think Rocksmith is more tool than toy. It overemphasizes imitation, but in so doing, it forces you to perfect your techniques; despite my insane shouting that, “I play real music, not video games!”, part of the frustration is in knowing that the program doesn’t lie, and it’s catching some things I didn’t realize I need to work on.

The Five Strings

The Book of Five Strings has been the bass book I’ve wanted to write for the past 15 years, and as I indicated in my last post, will be the basis for most of my writing on this blog. Taken from Miyamoto Musashi’s The Book of Five Rings, my goal is for this to be a practical and philosophical resource for both aspiring and active bass players.

This isn’t about playing a 5-string bass; while I play 5- and even 6-string basses on occasion, in my mind a base bass is 4-strings. The “strings” which will be in the subject headings will serve to identify the category of the post right away:

First String – Earth String: About instruments and equipment, the solid, physical tools we use to make our music.

Second String – Water String: This heading will be about theory and playing techniques, the essential ingredients to making music, regardless of what genre of music you play.

Third String – Fire String: These posts will be about my inspirations, bass players and musicians who fuel my passion to pick up my inspiration and add my few bars to the symphony.

Fourth String – Air (Wind) String: Posts on the Air String will be dedicated to the music that floats through the airwaves – posts about playing in specific styles of music, or about specific songs or albums that bass players (or anyone interested in good bass playing) should be familiar with.

Fifth String – No (Empty) String: At times, these may be the most common posts – getting into my philosophy of bass and of music, our relationship to it, and how it connects us to the eternal and the universal.

The Reboot

I am a man of many reboots, and not in the sense of the life philosophy that “every day is a new beginning.” Sure it is, but that must involve a sense of responsibility – it does no good if you almost daily decide that you will “begin” tomorrow.

Today’s post is intended to be a new beginning, with all the responsibility that a new beginning carries. Looking back on this blog, I am shocked at how long it has been since I last posted, and disappointed in the tone of some of the posts. Both must change.

Music is my passion, and bass is where I make my music. While it is easy to tout a new beginning, the conditions are right for me to meet the responsibility: I am not only rebooting the blog, but in the past few months, I have started a reboot of my life, quitting a job which took much more from me than it ever gave, moving hundreds of miles for a new start in a new state, embracing old loves with new energy. My new day job is to keep my head in the clouds and report back my discoveries, but only the diligent reporting will allow me to keep that job.

The focus of my reboot will be my long intended Book of Five Strings, which I will detail more in my next post. But for now, bookmark this page and check back soon. This is the humble beginning of a glorious transformation.

(Note: I also write The Zen Bassist on Blogger; at this time, it is my intent that both blogs will carry the content.  The Zen Bassist blog preceded this one, and I will post to both in an attempt to reach the audiences of both Blogger and WordPress.)