I share this not to simply talk about myself. Rather, I share this because I think many musicians can relate to the underlying thought process of this post, whether in passing or head on.
I 1990, I put down the bass after twenty years of playing for a variety of reasons. As it turned out, and in some twisted sense of karmic musical death, the last day I performed with my bass was the same day Stevie Ray Vaughan died, only twenty minutes from where I lived.
In truth, I was never a very good bassist. Sure... solid lines, great grasp of tone, dynamics and a card-carrying member of the Brotherhood of The Rhythm Section. But I never really learned how to "play" my instrument of passion... the bass guitar. To summarize in a term which any bassist can relate to at one degree or another, I lived in terror of life above the seventh fret.
So these limitations of someone who learned to play by ear was both palpable and to be fair, understandable. It was all further exacerbated by severe self-criticism, attempting to copy other famed bassists of my youth (always failing near terribly) and worrying about what others thought of my playing skills and how I was being silently compared and critiqued in their minds either against themselves as fellow bassists, or to bassists they knew and played with. There was no greater and distracting fear for me as discovering there was another bassist in the audience. It was all a creatively stifling and suppressing mélange.
Fortunately for me, I was blessed by the gift of a good voice and either sang lead or shared lead in all of my bands. But that was just a facade from which to hide my bass skills behind.
And so it went for twenty years...
Fast forward to 2018 when I unpacked my old Yamaha BB2000 for the first time in twenty-eight years. Just a few minutes of play and despite my painful, callous-free left fingers, I knew how much I had missed this instrument, and how much I loved playing it. I determined there and then to renew my love affair with the bass guitar.
So I made a pack with myself. I would buy myself a new bass, head and cabinet (I had sold my head in 1990 at a garage sale and my cab was faulty) on one condition... that this time, I would actually LEARN how to play. The thought of taking lessons never entered my mind because I knew that I understood the basics and had enough intelligence and self-motivation to teach myself through self-help guides. I also had no sense of urgency to join a band. I simply desired to learn my instrument to the best of my ability and enjoy, for the first time, the joys of life beyond the seventh fret.
I kept it simple. A Fender Rumble 500D and a Rumble 410. That paved the way to my new bass purchase, harkening back to the only true great memory of my early years of playing... a new Fender Precision Bass. In keeping with "simple" I settled upon my first teaching aid. Okay... heres where you get to have a good chuckle at my expense... 'Bass Guitar for Dummies.' I myself laughed when I considered buying it. But when I compared all the other books on the subject, it was clear that the teaching approach employed was too presumptive for someone of my limited skills. So finally I thought, what the heck. I'll just hide my Dummies book in my Fender 500D bag whenever I had company. So I bought it.
I have been immensely rewarded by this purchase decision. In fact, the only thing I hated about the book was the authors choice of bass for his pictures, a gawdy guitar with an upper-horn stretching all the way to Indiana. Okay... I know... this is irrelevant as I am falling prey to my own puerile subjectivity!
I was in no rush. And I skipped nothing, working my way forward page by page even when I thought, "This is ridiculous. I already know this or that." And then I'd catch myself, recalling the most embarrassing and humiliating event of my musical youth -- the day I was kicked out of band in sixth grade when my band teacher halted rehearsal to demand I solo several bars on my trombone. I couldn't because I never kept up with my reading lessons and practice. Packing up my trombone under the silent watchful eyes of the entire band was something it took me years to forgive my band instructor for (himself a great musician and teacher who several years later actually fronted his band on trumpet for my wedding!). As with most such useful lessons however, I eventually put it in perspective, realizing just how much he had tried to school me in such a lesson and for which I should have taken to, but didn't.
Were he around today I could at least proudly tell Mr. Higgerson that I can now read and play the bass clef. Even now, I sometimes find myself saying, "Good Boys Do Fine Always... All Cows Eat Grass. GBDFA... ACEG." Just learning how to read, despite as slowly as I still do, has been a great gift given to myself. Scales, harmonics, rests, time signatures, you name it. Sure, I'm still learning at my own basement-level pace. But I'M LEARNING. And perhaps one day I'll decide to once more play with other musicians in public. No fear. No comparisons to others. No trying to emulate my four-string heroes. Just me. Playing to my best ability. Playing to my best creativity. Playing to no longer satisfy anyone else but myself.
The point?
I wanted to share my prolonged, roundabout journey with my instrument of passion to tell you that, as with other applicable truisms under the category of 'Life's Lessons', you are never too old to accomplish what you desire to accomplish... despite yourself.
Thanks for reading.
I 1990, I put down the bass after twenty years of playing for a variety of reasons. As it turned out, and in some twisted sense of karmic musical death, the last day I performed with my bass was the same day Stevie Ray Vaughan died, only twenty minutes from where I lived.
In truth, I was never a very good bassist. Sure... solid lines, great grasp of tone, dynamics and a card-carrying member of the Brotherhood of The Rhythm Section. But I never really learned how to "play" my instrument of passion... the bass guitar. To summarize in a term which any bassist can relate to at one degree or another, I lived in terror of life above the seventh fret.
So these limitations of someone who learned to play by ear was both palpable and to be fair, understandable. It was all further exacerbated by severe self-criticism, attempting to copy other famed bassists of my youth (always failing near terribly) and worrying about what others thought of my playing skills and how I was being silently compared and critiqued in their minds either against themselves as fellow bassists, or to bassists they knew and played with. There was no greater and distracting fear for me as discovering there was another bassist in the audience. It was all a creatively stifling and suppressing mélange.
Fortunately for me, I was blessed by the gift of a good voice and either sang lead or shared lead in all of my bands. But that was just a facade from which to hide my bass skills behind.
And so it went for twenty years...
Fast forward to 2018 when I unpacked my old Yamaha BB2000 for the first time in twenty-eight years. Just a few minutes of play and despite my painful, callous-free left fingers, I knew how much I had missed this instrument, and how much I loved playing it. I determined there and then to renew my love affair with the bass guitar.
So I made a pack with myself. I would buy myself a new bass, head and cabinet (I had sold my head in 1990 at a garage sale and my cab was faulty) on one condition... that this time, I would actually LEARN how to play. The thought of taking lessons never entered my mind because I knew that I understood the basics and had enough intelligence and self-motivation to teach myself through self-help guides. I also had no sense of urgency to join a band. I simply desired to learn my instrument to the best of my ability and enjoy, for the first time, the joys of life beyond the seventh fret.
I kept it simple. A Fender Rumble 500D and a Rumble 410. That paved the way to my new bass purchase, harkening back to the only true great memory of my early years of playing... a new Fender Precision Bass. In keeping with "simple" I settled upon my first teaching aid. Okay... heres where you get to have a good chuckle at my expense... 'Bass Guitar for Dummies.' I myself laughed when I considered buying it. But when I compared all the other books on the subject, it was clear that the teaching approach employed was too presumptive for someone of my limited skills. So finally I thought, what the heck. I'll just hide my Dummies book in my Fender 500D bag whenever I had company. So I bought it.
I have been immensely rewarded by this purchase decision. In fact, the only thing I hated about the book was the authors choice of bass for his pictures, a gawdy guitar with an upper-horn stretching all the way to Indiana. Okay... I know... this is irrelevant as I am falling prey to my own puerile subjectivity!
I was in no rush. And I skipped nothing, working my way forward page by page even when I thought, "This is ridiculous. I already know this or that." And then I'd catch myself, recalling the most embarrassing and humiliating event of my musical youth -- the day I was kicked out of band in sixth grade when my band teacher halted rehearsal to demand I solo several bars on my trombone. I couldn't because I never kept up with my reading lessons and practice. Packing up my trombone under the silent watchful eyes of the entire band was something it took me years to forgive my band instructor for (himself a great musician and teacher who several years later actually fronted his band on trumpet for my wedding!). As with most such useful lessons however, I eventually put it in perspective, realizing just how much he had tried to school me in such a lesson and for which I should have taken to, but didn't.
Were he around today I could at least proudly tell Mr. Higgerson that I can now read and play the bass clef. Even now, I sometimes find myself saying, "Good Boys Do Fine Always... All Cows Eat Grass. GBDFA... ACEG." Just learning how to read, despite as slowly as I still do, has been a great gift given to myself. Scales, harmonics, rests, time signatures, you name it. Sure, I'm still learning at my own basement-level pace. But I'M LEARNING. And perhaps one day I'll decide to once more play with other musicians in public. No fear. No comparisons to others. No trying to emulate my four-string heroes. Just me. Playing to my best ability. Playing to my best creativity. Playing to no longer satisfy anyone else but myself.
The point?
I wanted to share my prolonged, roundabout journey with my instrument of passion to tell you that, as with other applicable truisms under the category of 'Life's Lessons', you are never too old to accomplish what you desire to accomplish... despite yourself.
Thanks for reading.
