Written by: Andrew Kirkpatrick

It’s dawned on me recently that I’ve been playing the bass for roughly 9 years–well over a third of my lifetime.

Even among people my age, that’s not a particularly astonishing feat, but it’s one that I’m proud of nonetheless.

This realization has caused me to reflect quite a bit on the music that influenced me as I continued to practice my instrument. Now that I have the privilege of being able to publish articles about music, I figured I’d share those thoughts by writing about tracks that I feel were particularly vital to my progression as a bass player.

“Darling Dear”—The Jackson 5

Most people I know aren’t huge music nerds like I am. They’re perfectly happy to listen to music casually without over-intellectualizing it and without splurging on pricey speakers or headphones because they have better things to do with their lives. On numerous occasions, the people in my life who fit this bill have confessed to me that they can’t really pinpoint exactly what the bass is or does. It only makes sense trebly instruments break through the mix in a way that absolutely forces you to think about them while drums and bass are instinctively felt more than truly heard.

So most of the time when people ask me what a bassline does for a song, I scramble to try to find a useful explanation. What I should do is tell them to simply listen to “Darling Dear” a Jackson 5 deep cut (if The Jackson 5 truly have any deep cuts) that’s home to the most joyful bassline ever recorded, courtesy of the great James Jamerson. Then they’ll truly start to get it, and they’ll have a smile on their face as they do.

“Portrait of Tracy”–Jaco Pastorius

Jaco Pastorius is the posterchild for a style of bass playing that I’ve grown less fond of over the years. His style is incredibly agile and busy the bass is typically a cumbersome instrument for trying to fire off speedy, virtuoso pyrotechnics, but Jaco somehow played his fretless 4-string as if it were a piano. Thinking back now, a lot of his displays of prowess were too showy for their own good, but every instrument needs an artist to test its limits. Jaco pushed the boundaries of

what the bass could do to impressive and sometimes truly beautiful effect, and any serious listener ought to educate themselves about his innovations. “Portrait of Tracy” is one of his few compositions that I still revisit often despite now rather firmly holding to the philosophy that simpler basslines are better. Learning to play the piece was one of the most affecting experiences I can recall as I progressed on the instrument; the song’s melancholy is apparent just listening to it, but that feeling is amplified exponentially once you play those notes for yourself.

“Take the Power Back”–Rage Against the Machine

As I mentioned above, keeping it simple is an art every bassist should try to master. The bass is a slightly unwieldy instrument compared to most; its large fretboard and thick strings make it difficult to play quickly. And even if you do start trying out speedier licks, you have to face the reality that warmer, lower frequency notes often begin to sound muddled when you string them together too fast. Thus, it’s important to realize the power of understatement that stripping out half the notes in your badass riff will actually make it sound better.

Minimalism is something Rage Against the Machine bassist Tim Commerford has complete command of. With the exception of “No Shelter,” anyone who’s been playing the bass for a year or two could get a handle on any of his bass licks given some practice. With vocalist Zack de la Rocha and guitarist Tom Morello embarking on wild and incendiary performances on every single song, however, Timmy C’s simplicity is crucial. Like Jesse in Breaking Bad, Commerford supplies an identifiable beacon of humanity amidst all the insanity going on around him.

“The Willing Well I: Fuel for the Feeding End”– Coheed and Cambria

“The Willing Well” series, the half-hour suite that ends Coheed and Cambria’s Good Apollo an album that already stretches on for 50 minutes by the time these songs play out, mind you is the highlight of the band’s 2005 sprawling schlock masterpiece.

The highlight of the suite is easily it’s fiery first part, “Fuel for the Feeding End.” And the highlight of this seven minute epic is without a doubt then-bassist, Mic Todd’s dexterous performance. Mic Todd is the master of snarling, active bass tones, and nowhere is that more apparent than “The Willing Well I.” When recording Good Apollo, Todd used a Spector Euro, a bass reputed for its growling sound that pops out of the mix like a rabid dog jumping against the sides of its cage. But somehow he ratchets up the intensity of the Euro’s signature tone even further on this track it sounds straight up demonic, like it’s poised to rip you limb from limb.

Todd takes full advantage of this primal aggressiveness, forming an unpredictable bassline that might double up with the rhythm guitar one second and veer completely off course the next, at one point even indulging in the weirdest and wildest slap bass riff I’ve ever heard.

Unfortunately, things haven’t progressed well for Todd. He (understandably) fell out with the band in 2011 when he attempted to rob a pharmacy, announced that he was diagnosed with cancer shortly thereafter, and has since fallen into obscurity. I hope he gets better and once more finds success in life, whether musically or otherwise. To say I wouldn’t be the bassist I am today without having diligently studied his work feels like a huge understatement.

“Woody’n’ You”–Dizzie Gillespie

Never would I have thought a sweet sounding swing piece could be the source of such anxiety (and so many hand cramps).

Allow me to set the scene: it’s jazz camp, summer 2010. My instructor had our band play two standards. The first was a walk in the park bossa tune and the other was the tried and true standard, “Woody’n’ You.” Normally, Dizzie Gillespie’s classic pieceis played in the range of 120-140 beats per minute. Without getting needlessly technical, a bassist playing a swing song can expect that the number of notes they’ll be playing in a minute is equal to (if not a bit greater than) the number of beats in a minute. That’s a pretty manageable number for a song like “Woody’n’ You,” which possesses a surprising degree of chordal complexity.

For whatever reason, however, our instructor had us play the song at around 210 beats per minute. Needless to say, that’s a lot of fucking notes to play across the four minutes it took to get through the song. To make matters worse, the song’s structure is not very forgiving for those on stringed instruments, which sent my hand flying up and down the fretboard at what felt like mach speeds just to string together a coherent walking bass part.

After a week’s worth of practice, our band took the stage for the end-of-camp concert. I don’t actually remember playing the song at all; what I do remember is finishing, making eye contact with a good friend sitting in the audience and breathing a sigh of relief as he mouthed “holy shit!” back at me. As a jazz bassist, conquering this rendition of a song that really doesn’t need to be that fast was unquestionably my finest hour.

“21st Century Schizoid Man”—King Crimson

Greg Lake is a pretty divisive figure in rock music, and though I’m still not sure if I’m a fan of what he went on to do as part of Emerson, Lake & Palmer, his work on In The Court of the Crimson King is so exquisite that he gets a lifetime pass from me. “21st Century Schizoid Man” is one of the best openers an album has ever had, and a big part of its exceptional quality is Lake’s contribution—a ferocious yet intelligent display of instrumental prowess that ranks as my absolute favorite bassline of all time. Even ignoring the other fascinating components of the track and examining Lake’s performance in isolation, there’s enough going on from his batshit insane walking bassline to his masterful split-second shifts in dynamics to warrant an article unto itself.

Just hit play on the video below and behold its glory.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWAhwGPilU

“Inner Urge”–Joe Henderson

The title track to Joe Henderson’s 1966 LP is infamously difficult to get a grip on. Henderson intended for the piece to be a dark rumination on ego and the desperate struggle to prove himself as an artist, an objective that shines through pretty clearly in the song’s chaotic structure. The piece is noted for its complexity, and though any instrumentalist has their work cut out for them in trying to learn it, us bassists may have the most difficult job of all.

The bassline Bob Cranshaw laid down for the original cut is feverish and strange. He begins by playing the songs melody alongside Henderson’s tenor sax full of serpentine phrasing that a bass simply isn’t constructed to play easily only to occasionally pause in time to drop into some syncopated hits along with the rest of the rhythm section. He then launches into a formless, otherworldly solo before starting his walking groove that, frankly, isn’t any easier to understand.

I’ve studied this song a lot and I still can’t even come close to approximating Cranshaw’s performance. “Inner Urge” will no doubt be an object of my fascination for a long time to come.

One day I’ll get it. One day…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbroQdpFIvc