The Bass Geek

While the billions I predicted may not have appeared (I’m hoping the recount comes closer to my earlier estimate), it was still a big day for Fountain Square. The place was littered with artists and musicians trying to find an appropriate place to craft their entries for the Masterpiece in a Day contest, and overall the results were good. It was a bit bizarre to see my elderly pug intimidating a much larger dog and then daring to investigating a solid-looking-yet-totally-docile pit bull. The Fab 4 Less exhbition was good, too, although it was a little weird hanging out in someone else’s apartment and trying to explain all of the renovations they did without the artist being there. I didn’t even try to sit on the couch or any chairs, for fear that they’d arranged everything with their practiced eye, and I’d be disturbing come carefully crafted balance.

Jennifer walked out of the place with a new purse bearing the spray-painted image of Jim Kelly, which I highly endorse.

There’s also another mural behind the house. We’ve volunteered our fence and garage door for the next effort, which should take place next spring.

I managed to sneak the new bass in for some repairs that hopefully won’t take too long. It rested here for such a brief time that I’d like it back as soon as possible. I’d also like my custom earplugs back as soon as possible, but the location of those is a little more fuzzy. I’m going to check around at work, but I fear I’ll be calling Dawn at earEverything for a new pair soon. My night out with regular foam plugs just didn’t cut it now that I’m used to the custom molds. They cut down the volume without cutting down the balance of the frequencies. Not only does it save the hearing, but it makes the mix anytime I’m playing sound so much better - I just can’t live without them, unfortunately. Which is why they enjoyed a position of honor on my keychain. Alas, no more.

Hopefully the Steelers will mollify my pain with a win this afternoon, the new Metalocalypse won’t fail to blow me away, and the earth will continue to turn.

After getting lost in downtown Denver for a bit in a search for coffee and breakfast, we made our way back to Red Rocks for the second day of the festival. It was a little warmer (near-prefect weather), and although the stairs hadn’t made themselves and easier on me, the overall conditions were set for a great day. To the music:

• Bob Log III came out and won a lot of fans (catching the great majority of them by surprise; he must be used to that by now). The requests for “Boob Scotch” were honored, but nobody actually demonstrated said activity.
• Locals Stranger Lazy have gotten a lot louder and more aggressive than their Built-To-Spill-roots.
• We spent most of the rest of the evening at the main stage - the lineup was just undeniable.
• Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s battled through some inconsistent sound issues (too much high-end and EXPLOSIVE impacts on the auxillary drums) for a good set; the road has served them well.
• I had 50/50 odds on the Brian Jonestown Massacre showing up, my wife gave them better than that average. She was right. When they played, the music was a swirling mass of well-crafted melodies and a massive guitar sound. When they weren’t playing, there were rants about tuning and stage volume, costume changes (shirts were worn and removed, pants were changed, jackets were tossed, etc.), praise for the Flaming Lips and the indepenence of Nicaragua, a plea to read “The 12 Caesers,” and a plea to download his music for free - “It was made to listen to, not for fat, old men to argue about.”
• It only makes sense that Art Brut will be the opening act for The Hold Steady - they come from very similar places. Whereas The Hold Steady draw from literature, alcohol and the E Street Band, though, Art Brut take their speak-sung lyrics from a strong and biting need for social commentary and the place of pop songs in same, and their music draws from New Wave acts and styles. The lead singer combines a smooth stage style from Bryan Ferry and an acerbic wit in his delivery, and he’s ably backed by the band. The live act was wonderful, and it easily won me over. My only quibble was the order for everyone to go and form new bands - while this may mean many good bands (and more work for bassists), it may also mean a load of crappy-ass bands. Be careful what you wish for.
• A burrito run made me brave the stairs once again (seriously, those things are killer), but it did allow me to take in Earl Greyhound. Excellent rock stomp with a powerful singer/bassist and the largest bass drum I’ve ever seen on a kit.
• Spoon was tight, concise, polished, and driving. The keyboards acted almost in the same role as Mark De Gil Antoni’s in Soul Coughing - triggering samples and soundscapes as much as traditional lines. Everything started smearing together after a bit, but they had the crowd in the palm of their hand.
• It’s amazing how much of their normal show the Flaming Lips managed to cram into a festival appearence. Wayne Coyne apologized for not having the new UFO lights - the Russian-made (and supposedly Chernobyl-irradiated) equipment was evidently being detained by Homeland Security for not being “entirely legal.” There was, however, a huge stage show with Santa Clauses, martians, confettii, the audience-walking ball, a huge LCD screen with “mic cam,” many pleas to defeat the current administration, and wonderful songs.

We got about three hours of sleep before boarding our plan home, and I’m wiped out. I managed enough energy for laundry and football this Sunday (Steelers win 26-3, 2-0 and first in the division), and that’s about it. Back in the Square now, and I’m loving the oxygen.

My dog Sadie is deeply, profoundly deaf. We found her that way, and it doesn’t look it went away when the ear infection she had was cleared up. Today, though, it was to her benefit, as the many and varied loud noises I made cheering the Steelers/Browns score updates would have probably annoyed her to no end. Instead, she slept blissfully through the 34-7 throttling the Steelers inflicted on Cleveland to open the season. She’s happy, I’m happy, and everything is right with the world. I’m going to have to get her a jersey.

Otherwise, it was an exceptionally lazy day. I managed to hang a bass guitar holder on the wall in my office, so I can finally place all of my basses in holders in the office and still keep one in the car. I always forget to take one anyway, so leaving one in the trunk is a good compromise with my addled memory. There are a couple more Warner Gear shows on the calendar, so we’ll start prepping for those soon. And Jennifer and I are headed to Monolith soon, at which we’ll no doubt get our fill of wonderful music and oxygen deprivation.

The space between Fountain Square and work, otherwise known as downtown Indianapolis, is pretty much closed for business today. Later this afternoon, fans will brave rain, packed crowd, and the sounds of Kelly Clarkson, Faith Hill and Hinder to celebrate the official opening of football season. The preseason is over, the cuts have been made, and all is ready to begin. That’s a good thing. A spectacular thing, in fact.

Not that I’ll actually participate in today’s happening. It’s for the Colts fans, and I’m not one. Instead, I’ll retreat to my home and await Sunday, when the Steelers face the Browns. It’ll be a good game - I expect a solid effort from both teams. That mantra got me through both the Super Bowl and last season, so it’s a comfortable and reassuring friend.

My Jerome Bettis jersey, long the target of comments due to both the team from which it originates and the somewhat old and worn status it has achieved in its lifetime, is being retired in favor of a new custom jersey, due to arrive soon. It probably won’t make it in time for this weekend, but soon folks will wonder who the hell “Sweaty B” is and why they never saw him on the offensive line, as the number 63 might indicate.

Due to some incomprehensible NFL merchandising rule, you can’t buy custom jerseys for retired players. So I chose the name as mine but used the number 63 for Dermontti Dawson, probably the best center of his time. Mobile, agile, and crushing. It was awe-inspiring to see him clear opposing teams out for whatever running back trailed in his wake. He also spent his entire career with the Steelers, a rare feat in today’s world of free agency and Rooney stinginess. Were I given more time, I could try and write a nice little monograph on how bassists and centers share the same tendencies (doing all the work in the trenches, getting no recognition, supporting the team while others grab the glory), but I’m on lunch, and I’m tired of sports analogies. I can’t run for daylight, and most athletes can’t manage a walking bass line to save their lives (special recognition given here to Wayman Tisdale, who could dunk on my ass AND play rings around me. He is a smooth exception).

Anyway, enough geekery. Let the games begin. I’ve gotta dig out my Terrible Towels now.

I’d also like to point out that, despite my geekery, I’m not this crazy. Wow.

Since things are beginning to slow down a bit in my little section of Fountain Square, it seems a good time to log in what I’ve been doing.

• As I write this, whoever is kicking for the Atlanta Falcons just shanked a field goal into what appears to be the hot dog stand of their stadium. It’s late in a preseason game, so I’m expecting to see that kicker on the waiver wire soon. Football seasons is creeping up, and I made it through the first telecast of a Steelers game without a burst blood vessel or cardiac event. This bodes well for the overall season, I think.
• I just finished a run in the house band at the American Cabaret Theater for their Elvis retrospective. The review from Nuvo was abysmal, but there were large crowds that were generally enthusiastic (even as they trended towards the nursing home set). Once I get the songs out of my heads, I’m sure I’ll better appeciate playing with the caliber of musicians I did - they were quite fantastic.
• The Playboy Psychonauts managed a couple gigs with new material (”Tears Of A Clown” seems to go down especially well). I’m still only using the MIDI bass and laptop on a couple songs, though, and I want to expand on that. I’m just running a couple of percussion loops and using some additional synth sounds, but I want to work some more into the songs. It’s only a three-piece, so there’s some room to tastefully work with. Realize, of course, that I say tastefully while wearing a fez and swinging the rhythm to “Blitzkrieg Bop.”
• The Warner Gear managed a 2+ hour gig at the Pine Room in Nashville, IN with no issue, which was a blessing given the amount of new songs we had to throw in to fill out such a set. I had a bad feeling about the show at the start, but it turned out that it was just the premonition of accidentally playing Sheryl Crow on the jukebox during the set break.
• There should be three books with my name in them somewhere hitting the shelves within the next few months. I’m in the author review phase of “Expert Podcasting Practices For Dummies,” which means my editors are throwing my words back at me with all inadequacies revealed, begging for correction. This is always the part of the process where I swear never to take fingers to keyboard in such an effort again, but this time things seem to be moving along well. I say this with a few chapters still unseen by my eyes, though, so I could be walking directly into a literary tiger trap. I’m seeing the other side of the process as a technical editor for “Second Life For Dummies” and “Composing Music Digitally For Dummies,” both of which are flinging chapters at me with great rapidity. I think I’m caught up now. I could be wrong.
• One of the cool things about the composing book is that I’m playing more with Sibelius, a music composition and notation software package. I don’t do a lot of work with sheet music, but my recent experience with it left me a bit cold. My bright idea to play the examples for Teach Yourself VISUALLY Bass Guitar on the MIDI bass into a notation program worked so poorly that I had to go back and edit everything manually. Part of that could be MIDI bass itself, which can be a little inaccurate by nature. Part of that could be my seeming inability to hit that millisecond window that causes the note to actually show correctly, instead of wrapping itself in a tangle of slurs and dots and ties, rendering it so much tonal gibberish. Sibelius promises to be more forgiving, but I haven’t had time to test it yet.
• Recently loaded on my iPod were the new albums from Talib Kweli, Common, along with CDs from King Crimson, Trey Gunn and Kenny Garrett. The first two were because they were indeed new, and therefore begging to be experienced. The King Crimson and Gunn recording I blame on my ongoing fascination with the Stick (only ~$4000 to go before I can afford one!), and Kenny Garrett because he’s coming to town this week, reminding me that I should see this show.

So there you go. Things are looking calm for the foreseeable future, but the last time I wrote that, two books and about four shows came down the pike. My desire for rest time is beating me for writing that last sentence.