| Here it is from the bass player site.
All About The Music
By Tony Levin | May 2006
I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t like to say how things should be done. I’d rather take lessons than give them. If I hear a young bassist playing in some weird way—with his bass down around his knees, strings tuned in 5ths, low string tuned down to Ab or something, going at the axe with an electric drill—I’d rather dig his originality and learn something from it than try to get him to do things the way I do or the way I was taught.
Having said that, I’m up on the Soapbox now, so I’ll bend my rule and propose a way to look at bass playing—and I have to admit I got it from my training. That background was in classical music, but it’s not the bass technique that turned out to be valuable. It’s the way to participate in music.
And it’s all about the music, Jack.
That sounds obvious, and it is to some players—but sometimes other things get higher priority, right? Can’t think of them? Here are a few: Chops. Fame. Gaga fans. Record sales. Respect from other players. Babes. Money. Fame. Babes. Did I mention chops?
Cool things, to be sure—but listen, my bass heroes are the ones who make the overall music better. Jaco is one, of course, but best for me is his playing with Joni Mitchell. It took even her music to a place it hadn’t been, and would never have gone. Oscar Pettiford—every note the right note. Ray Brown, the same. Paul McCartney—how do you take a perfect song and add a quirky, melodic bass part that doesn’t interfere, but makes the song even better? I don’t know, but he’s done it over and over, as easily as he sings a song. Dee Murray did it, too, on all those great Elton John songs. Pino Palladino—there’s no end to his style variations, but they’re always just right for that record, for that artist. His parts with D’Angelo consist of so few notes, placed in such radical time … I listened like a kid going to school, and I’ll be re-listening for years. Tina Weymouth inspired me for sure; a big part of what made Talking Heads unique was her bass lines, seemingly from the moon. Hutch Hutchinson’s parts with Bonnie Raitt are as close to perfect as you can get. And Victor Wooten, of course, is awesome. Sure, I like the impossible licks he plays—but what makes me jump out of my chair and shout is that he knows exactly when to throw them at you, and when to stay back in the rhythm section. He plays great bass, but folks, the man understands music.
What do all these players, and many more I admire (not just bassists), have in common? You can listen to things they did years ago—even really old stuff—and it still sounds great. Classic is the word, but even if the song isn’t a classic, the bass playing can be exactly right, and still sound right, years later.
Like me, you might try to remember that next time you’re throwing in your lick of the month, with the technique of the year and the pedal of the week. If you’re recording, people will be hearing the music a year from now, maybe a decade from now. You’ll be listening to it in a decade—and just as you won’t want to see yourself with the dated hairdo of the period, you won’t want to wince and think, Oh, how could I have played that dated lick over and over? (Believe me, I’ve been there—musically, if not with the hairdo!) You want your part of the music to be classic. Me, I strive for that—I don’t always succeed, but I try. We can all strive for it and still step out in front of the song when it works, adding new techniques when they work. For the overall music.
When you find within you the right part to make this song shine, and this singer on this record or in this show shine, you may not get noticed for your licks. But you’ve got the chance to create something more important: music that’s right, that’s unique, that will stand the test of time and deserves to be classic. People will notice. Babes … nah.
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kick out the style, bring back the Jam!
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