Here's Stephen using that gimbri in a song. It's definitely not a novelty.
The horn is his dad's old bugle.
As you say, if you can play, you can play.
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Interviewing Bassists Stories part 2
- Thread starter Thor
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Here's Stephen using that gimbri in a song. It's definitely not a novelty.
The horn is his dad's old bugle.
As you say, if you can play, you can play.
I highly recommend Laswell's latest effort Means Of Deliverance. All solo bass on the Warwick Alien acoustic bass guitar.
The Cardinal Ghost was a great musician. I taught her to slap the bass, and soon she was better at it than I was. Marcus Miller complimented her on her slapping, in fact.
One of her favorite bands was the Levin-Bruford-Belew-Fripp version of King Crimson. Her favorite tune?
"The Howler." She loved the bass line. I hadn't listened to the song in almost twenty years.
I rediscovered it tonight. It's great. "Carmen" loved the bass glissandos. Levin used a Chapman stick to record it, but Carmen figured out how to duplicate the sound perfectly with her volume pedal, distortion, flanger, and chorus. She could always determine exactly what effects someone used on the bass.
"The Howler" proves that 5/4 can totally rock.
Carmen loved Levin not just for his bass but because she said he looked like a giant you-know-what. I'm glad they never met while she and I were together. She would've slapped the hell out of one of his Sting Rays, and he would've leered, and then she would've told him he reminded her of the Kanamara Matsuri, and that would've been it for me. They would've galloped off into the sunset with their basses and I would've drunk myself to death while listening to "The Howler."
Carmen loved the ambiguity of the lyrics and the contrasts of the song. It goes from sinister to jolly to sinister.
"...the angel of the world's desire, placed on trial..."
At long last, acquitted of all charges and released.
One of her favorite bands was the Levin-Bruford-Belew-Fripp version of King Crimson. Her favorite tune?
"The Howler." She loved the bass line. I hadn't listened to the song in almost twenty years.
I rediscovered it tonight. It's great. "Carmen" loved the bass glissandos. Levin used a Chapman stick to record it, but Carmen figured out how to duplicate the sound perfectly with her volume pedal, distortion, flanger, and chorus. She could always determine exactly what effects someone used on the bass.
"The Howler" proves that 5/4 can totally rock.
Carmen loved Levin not just for his bass but because she said he looked like a giant you-know-what. I'm glad they never met while she and I were together. She would've slapped the hell out of one of his Sting Rays, and he would've leered, and then she would've told him he reminded her of the Kanamara Matsuri, and that would've been it for me. They would've galloped off into the sunset with their basses and I would've drunk myself to death while listening to "The Howler."
Carmen loved the ambiguity of the lyrics and the contrasts of the song. It goes from sinister to jolly to sinister.
"...the angel of the world's desire, placed on trial..."
At long last, acquitted of all charges and released.
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Tom, I've been reading this thread through in large chunks. Whilst it's a shame I've been getting it all after the fact I have to say I've enjoyed it more than anything on TB so far, and I've been here a while.
Actually, maybe 'enjoyed' isn't the correct word. I've been going through what seems, to me, a very rough patch recently. It's nothing compared to some of the stuff others, including many of our own here on TB, are going through and to you guys I wish you all the best and hopefully a speedy recovery.
At times your writing and your stories have made me laugh, think and cry. This is something that happens when you read great text, but something that I've done once or twice is simply stare at some of the things said here and let it sink in. Honestly there have been sentences here I have read for 5 minutes straight and I've been transfixed. I can honestly say this has never happened to me before, I've never just let words wash over me like that.
To say anything said here has changed me or my outlook on life would be silly. It's far too soon to tell and there are probably better places to look for divine inspiration than an internet forum. Nevertheless, parts of this I will remember and try to act upon for a very long time to come.
I think what makes your writing so engaging is that it manages to be personal and public at the same time. Excuse my cookie-cutter literary criticism there but I do mean it. My specific ghosts are not yours, nor are they anybody else's reading this thread. And yet it is as if this thread is tailor made advice and healing just for me.
Thank you. Like so many people here I have needed catharsis and healing, and you have gone a long way to providing that. I truly hope one day I manage to let go and transcend as you so aptly put it. I can but try.
I hope to get my hands on the book very, very soon. I quite fancy going to Japan now as well.
Actually, maybe 'enjoyed' isn't the correct word. I've been going through what seems, to me, a very rough patch recently. It's nothing compared to some of the stuff others, including many of our own here on TB, are going through and to you guys I wish you all the best and hopefully a speedy recovery.
At times your writing and your stories have made me laugh, think and cry. This is something that happens when you read great text, but something that I've done once or twice is simply stare at some of the things said here and let it sink in. Honestly there have been sentences here I have read for 5 minutes straight and I've been transfixed. I can honestly say this has never happened to me before, I've never just let words wash over me like that.
To say anything said here has changed me or my outlook on life would be silly. It's far too soon to tell and there are probably better places to look for divine inspiration than an internet forum. Nevertheless, parts of this I will remember and try to act upon for a very long time to come.
I think what makes your writing so engaging is that it manages to be personal and public at the same time. Excuse my cookie-cutter literary criticism there but I do mean it. My specific ghosts are not yours, nor are they anybody else's reading this thread. And yet it is as if this thread is tailor made advice and healing just for me.
Thank you. Like so many people here I have needed catharsis and healing, and you have gone a long way to providing that. I truly hope one day I manage to let go and transcend as you so aptly put it. I can but try.
I hope to get my hands on the book very, very soon. I quite fancy going to Japan now as well.
Thanks, Jack. That's the highest praise a writer can ask for.
Japan was an amazing place. I haven't been there since 1991, but from what I've heard, it hasn't changed much. It was like living in Disneyland. For most of the time I had my anchor and other half, the one who got away. Being there as a single man would've been... epic.
The book will delve into all the aspects of my story that I didn't post here because they weren't bass related. If you appreciate the thread, you'll like the book, too.
Again, thanks for your kind words. They mean a lot to me.
Tom, can you give us an update on the the publishing on "The Book that Talk Bass Spawned"?
Specifically, when can we GET ONE!!
Specifically, when can we GET ONE!!
I promise to keep you updated step by step.
I was told the book design would begin in late October. So far I haven't heard anything that says we're not on schedule.
Schiffer is a massive publishing house, with over 9000 titles currently in print. They're inundated with demands from cranky authors who have to be constantly coddled, reassured, and handled.
Authors tend to be quite mentally ill. Think about it: We spend all day alone, inside our own heads, capturing our thoughts and putting them out there as though what we think is of vital importance to the world.
I'll tell you a little inside-baseball story.
The last book I did for Schiffer resulted in my irreplaceable collection of World War I German postcards being destroyed. Since the U.S. economy is going to sputter along in a Japan-like coma for the foreseeable future, publishers have had to move their printing operations to other countries.
My postcards were sent to China, where the people who scanned them put pieces of scotch and masking tape on every single one to tell the scanner operator the size and number of each TIF he produced. These pieces of tape stayed on the cards for six months or so.
When I got my collection back, I had to spend three days with Q-tips and adhesive remover, tying to get the tape off. Most of the cards were left with permanent stains, since it was Chinese tape that has arsenic, plutonium, and fecal matter in it. Of course Schiffer had no idea this would happen.
As you can imagine, I raised hell with the publisher and got a personal call from him. We had a long conversation about what could be done to compensate me. In the course of the conversation he thanked me for being reasonable and told me horror stories of being harassed daily by his authors, all wanting to know when their books would be published and why they weren't selling more copies.
When Ghosts is ready to go, I'm going to hire an independent publicity firm to get the word out. I'm going to take charge of marketing it.
But the first people who'll know when it's available will be you. We may even work out a discount deal. Who knows? Or something in which I can get Talkbass members signed bookplates.
I won't forget you, because you're the ones who made this possible. But the wheels of the publishing industry grind slowly and thoroughly. A lot can happen. My publisher was affected by Hurricane Sandy and the current East Coast storm. I'm sure those will add delays.
My quest is to become the least mentally ill person I can, so I don't want to badger my publisher like all the other writers in his stable.
I'll tell you a secret: I don't like writers. They tend to be incredibly self-important, unsocialized buttholes with terrible personal hygiene. They overestimate their skills and the potential market appeal of their work.
The only reason I have confidence in this is because of the feedback I've gotten. If it weren't for that, I'd be convinced that it has the same chance of succeeding as everything else I've done.
But I'll keep you informed and up to date. Right now, I just don't know any more than you.
To keep your spirits up, I'll leave you with one of my favorite videos. There's no bass, but my plan was always to learn how to do the hambone and then apply the techniques and rhythms to the bass. I ran out of time, but maybe someone else can do it.
Or how about a hambone-and-bass duo? Wow...
A late-breaking bass story from my failed career that I was just reminded of.
I pitched Colin Hodgkinson of Back Door, who was also turned down as "yesterday's new."
After all, what could anybody learn from this old has-been?
Thanks(?) to the person who reminded me of this. Another memory I'd totally erased.
I pitched Colin Hodgkinson of Back Door, who was also turned down as "yesterday's new."
After all, what could anybody learn from this old has-been?
Thanks(?) to the person who reminded me of this. Another memory I'd totally erased.
Eh, you just like him because he's left handed!
That was actually some very cool stuff, thanks for posting that.
I had never heard of him til a couple of months ago. Crying shame that it took so long for that to happen. I will definately be searching out more info on him.
Schiffer does good work. We sell several of their sea-oriented photo books in the gift store I work in, and they are not only well made, but are priced reasonably. We have a pretty good sell-through rate on their titles.
The lyrics of Jesse Fuller's "San Francisco Bay Blues" hit pretty close to home, too.Eh, you just like him because he's left handed!
There doesn't seem to be a standard version, but I like Dylan's.
http://www.bobdylanroots.com/san.html
Hey Tom, just wanted to come in here and voice my support. Went through the whole thread a few months ago, and ever since I've been coming here once in a while to check on the book. Thought I'd finally register and add my voice to the constantly growing group of fans here.
Can't wait for the book! Godspeed!
Can't wait for the book! Godspeed!
Thanks very much. I'll be sure to let everyone know the minute I hear anything.
The next step is getting the galleys for me to inspect. I'll tell you when that happens.
Thanks again.
Ask and you shall receive. I'll write this in real time, just for you.
"Two Weeks to Do Whatever I Wanted"
The Cardinal Ghost Carmen and I had a rocky relationship in the beginning. We were both drunks, and she had a roving eye that she could barely keep under control. When you read my book you'll understand why I had to stay with her despite our problems.
At our Tokyo school, new teachers came and went. One day the school hired a British woman named Lynn, who looked exactly like a more voluptuous Naomi Watts. I like her immediately because she was intelligent and had an insanely twisted sense of humor, the two attributes I find most attractive in women. Carmen knew that I was attracted to Lynn. Although Carmen was jealous, she couldn't really complain because she knew I'd never act on it, and she also knew that I knew of her extracurricular activities in the beginning of our relationship but had overlooked them in the hopes that she'd grow out of them.
Carmen and I spent most of our lunches at the top of the old building where were worked, talking and gazing out the windows as we ate. Once when we saw Lynn arriving, Carmen said, "I never realized how busty she is. You can really see it when you're looking down at her from six stories up. She's gorgeous, isn't she, Tom?" And she gave me an arch, sad look.
Carmen herself was rather flat chested. I'm not a boob man; having been born and raised in Venezuela, I have more of a Latin preference. My favorite view of a woman is from behind, when she's wearing tight jeans. Carmen was a former gymnast, so she looked great from behind, in her signature tight, faded jeans. But I wasn't with her because of any part of her body. Her excellent caboose was a bonus that I appreciated but didn't require.
During the holiday season of 1989-90, Carmen went home to California for Christmas and New Year's. She'd be gone about two weeks. Before she left, she said, "You're going to spend all your time with Lynn, aren't you?" Again, said sadly and sheepishly but with a definite trace of vicarious enthusiasm. Spending two weeks with someone else was what Carmen herself would do. She was titillated by infidelity, even her own mate's, because of the naughtiness and drama. There was no question: She was giving me permission, most likely to make up for her own flings. If I did it, too, Carmen wouldn't feel so guilty about betraying me.
By 1989 the worst of the rockiness in our relationship was over and we'd settled in to the happiest extended period of my life, but Carmen could never accept that it didn't bother me that she'd had far more partners than I'd had and that I'd known of her infidelities but had forgiven her. She also didn't accept that I wouldn't do to her what she did to me. In her mind, if I cheated on her, it would take the sting out of her own adventures. "You did it, too!" she could say. So, when she left for the States right before Christmas, I had carte blanche to fool around for two weeks with a British woman who looked like Naomi Watts. If she'd have me.
After Carmen went back to California, Lynn and I started having lunch together every day. She cracked me up because all Brits are wordsmiths who love to imitate the millions of regional accents in their island kingdom. She was from Manchester, so her own natural accent--Mancunian--was like this:
(Unfortunately, it's impossible to find anyone doing anything original on YouTube. I looked for an hour to find people just talking, but it's all "challenges" and "tags," with everyone saying exactly the same thing. Morons.)
Lynn was very sarcastic. I gelled my hair in those days, and during one of our lunches she said, "Let's 'ave a feel, then," and touched my slicked-back locks. She burst into laughter.
"Oo, it's awful, innit, Tom!" she shouted. "'Ow can ya 'ave that on yer 'ead all day? Feels like dried wood! Ah could use ya fer kindlin', coodn't Ah? Start a fire wif yer 'ead in me fireplace!"
She was hotness incarnate.
On Christmas Day, we went to a British pub in Tokyo that served a traditional Christmas dinner: roast turkey, brussels sprouts, roast potatoes, cranberry sauce, parsnips, bread sauce, chestnut stuffing, pigs in a blanket, bacon, and gravy. With Christmas Pudding doused in flaming brandy for dessert. It wards off evil spirits.
We also had Christmas Crackers, which are little paper tubes twisted at both ends. When you and your date pull at either end of the tube, they pop and a paper crown, a prize, and a joke written on a piece of paper fall out. Our prizes were a plastic mustache and a toy penguin. Lynn put on her crown and managed to look even hotter. There's something about beautiful women in silly headgear...
It was the best Christmas I ever had as an adult. The combination of the company, the food, and the sexual tension made it unforgettable.
Part 2 is next.
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