I’ve been playing lots of bass lately. This is really the best therapy for me ever devised. I am working on my music and trying to express the intent of the chordal structure and melodic line in a way that is unobtrusive but interesting. I suppose part of the problem with having no formal training is that I can only “hear” what I want the instrument to say. I am not transcribing text and doing formal counterpoint and harmony. I am only doing what sounds good to my ear. There is so much that seems so simplistic. The irony to this is, of course, I find myself cutting bass back rather than playing more. I do have a tendency to want to overplay. One thing is true for me, however: I am remarkably consistent in my playing. Once I have a chart, I do not like to deviate too much. Sure, I’ll play with it, but it will be consistent with the original intent of the thing.
I find that the bass is my voice. I may have a limited vocabulary, but damn it do sing!
I am beginning to think that I could make a go of doing my music in a profitable manner. Gigs and sales: it has to be a business and I am more than the artist, I am the CEO, CFO, and head of R&D. Not bad for a guy that likes to do it all.
I am really enjoying working out my bass-lines and thinking in terms of what makes for good music rather than what makes the bass sound good. Part of this is that the music is mine… I am responsible for the whole thing. To my mind that means making the soloists sound good. Since I am playing several instruments on these tracks I find that I am no longer thinking in terms of my and the bottom, but in terms of the whole harmonic structure of the thing. I don’t like to limit myself to roots. I like to play harmonies (thirds, fifths, sometimes an odd 13th or the like). Jazz teaches me to regard the chord as a construct to be deconstructed and to be flipped on its head. Rock teaches me to listen for the beat. The Blues teach me that simple is often more eloquent than verbiage.
Mostly it is about making music that speaks from the heart. I have always said that there are two distinct types of music: good and bad. The good is passionate; like outstanding sex it can be moist, hot, full of feeling, hard and leaves you drained but ecstatic. The bad is insipid; like jacking off in the shower because you don’t have anybody to love you. I want my music to be good.
The folks that have heard it say that it is good. What amazes me are the interpretations of the words. I have come to believe that it is not so important what I wanted to say. I know what I intended. The real stuff is in the synergy of the listener and the piece: I write a lot about loss of faith and loss of love, both the love of God and the love of women. The people that hear my stuff hear other things that I did not intend but were there for them.
I am still suffering from writers’ block. I have come to the conclusion that it is not so much a writers’ block as it is a hiatus from the word to listen to the musical impact of the piece. I am doing lots musically. More words will come. I need to work harder at my craft, though. I am in the studio next week.
Ah, but I am just a fool…
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