Our columnist’s bass, built by Anders Mattisson.
Would your instrumental preconceptions hold up if you don a blindfold and take them for a test drive?
I used to think that stereotypes and preconceived notions about what is right and wrong when it comes to bass were things that other people dealt with—not me. I was past all that. Unfazed by opinion, immune to classification. Or so I thought, tucked away in my jazz-hermit-like existence.
That belief was shattered the day Ian Martin Allison handed me a Fender Coronado while I was blindfolded in his basement. (Don’t ask—it’s a long story and an even longer YouTube video if you have time to kill.) For years, I had been a single-cut, 5-string, high-C-string player. That was my world. So, you can imagine my shock when I connected almost instantly with something that felt like it was orbiting a different solar system.
Less than 5 minutes with the instrument, and it was all over. The bass stayed in Ian’s basement. (I did not.) I returned home to Los Angeles, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I kept playing my beloved semi-chambered single-cut 5-string, but I sent its builder, Anders Mattisson, a message about my recent discovery. I asked if there was any way we could create something with the essence of a Coronado while still suiting my playing and my music.
That’s when everything I thought I knew about bass—and the personal boundaries I had set for myself—came crashing down.
When we started talking about building a bass with a fully chambered body, much like the Coronado, I was adamant about two things: It needed to have active electronics, and I would never play a headless bass.
Fast-forward three months to the winterNAMM show in California. Anders arrived for dinner at my house, along with a group of incredible bass players, includingHenrik Linder. I was literally in a chef’s apron, trying to get course after course of food on the table, when Henrik said, “Hey, let’s bring the new bass in.”
He came down the stairs carrying something that looked suspiciously like a guitar case—not a bass case. I figured there had been some kind of mistake or maybe even a prank. When I finally got a break from the chaos in the kitchen, I sat down with the new bass for the first time. And, of course, it was both headless and passive.
I should mention that even though I had made my requests clear—no headless bass, active electronics—I had also told Anders that I trusted him completely. And I’m so glad I did. He disintegrated my assumptions about what a bass “has to” or “should” be, and in doing so, changed my life as a musician in an instant. The weight reduction from the fully chambered body made it essential for the instrument to be headless to maintain perfect balance. And the passive nature of the pickups gave me the most honest representation of my sound that I’ve ever heard in over 30 years of playing bass.
I’m 46 years old. It took me this long to let go of certain fundamental beliefs about my instrument and allow them to evolve naturally, without interference. Updating my understanding of what works for me as a bass player required perspective, whereas some of my most deeply held beliefs about the instrument were based on perception. I don’t want to disregard my experiences or instincts, but I do want to make sure I’m always open to the bigger picture—to other people’s insights and expertise.
Trusting my bass builder’s vision opened musical doors that would have otherwise stayed bolted shut for years to come. The more I improve my awareness of where the line between perception and perspective falls, the more I can apply it to all aspects of my world of bass.
Maybe this month, it’s playing an instrument I never would have previously considered. Next month, it might be incorporating MIDI into my pedalboard, or transcribing bass lines from spaghetti Westerns.
No matter what challenges or evolutions I take on in my music and bass playing, I want to remain open—open to change, open to new ideas, and open to being proven wrong. Because sometimes, the instrument you never thought you’d play ends up being the one that changes everything.
Guest columnist Dave Pomeroy, who is also president of Nashville’s musicians union, with some of his friends.
Dave Pomeroy, who’s played on over 500 albums with artists including Emmylou Harris, Elton John, Trisha Yearwood, Earl Scruggs, and Alison Krauss, shares his thoughts on bass playing—and a vision of the future.
From a very young age, I was captivated by music. Our military family was stationed in England from 1961 to 1964, so I got a two-year head start on the Beatles starting at age 6. When Cream came along, for the first time I was able to separate what the different players were doing, and my focus immediately landed on Jack Bruce. He wrote most of the songs, sang wonderfully, and drove the band with his bass. Playing along with Cream’s live recordings was a huge part of my initial self-training, and I never looked back.
The electric bass has a much shorter history than most instruments. I believe that this is a big reason why the evolution of bass playing continues in ways that were literally unimaginable when it began to replace the acoustic bass on pop and R&B recordings. Players like James Jamerson, Joe Osborn, Carol Kaye, Chuck Rainey, and David Hood made great songs even better with their bass lines, pocket, and tone. Playing in bands throughout my teenage years, I took every opportunity I could to learn from musicians who were more experienced than I was. Slowly, I began to understand the power of the bass to make everyone else sound better—or lead the way to a train wreck! That sense of responsibility was not lost on me. As I continued to play, listen, and learn, a gradual awareness of other elements came to the surface, including the three Ts: tone, timing, and taste.
I was ready to rock the world with busy lines and bass solos when I moved to Nashville in the late ’70s, and I was suddenly transported into the land of singer-songwriters. It was a huge awakening when I heard the lyrics of artists like Guy Clark, whose spare yet powerful stories and simple guitar changes opened up a whole new universe in reverse for me. It was a reset for sure, but gradually I found ways to combine my earlier energetic approach in different ways. Playing what’s right for a song is a very subjective thing.
“If the song calls for you to ramp up the energy and lead the way like Chris Squire, Bootsy Collins, Geddy Lee, Sting, Flea, Justin Chancellor, or so many others, trust yourself and go for it.”
Don Williams, whom I worked with for many years, was known as a man of few words, but he gave me some of the best musical advice I ever received. I had been with him for just a few months when he pulled me aside one night after a show, and quietly said, “Dave, you don’t have to play what’s on the records, just don’t throw me off when I’m singing.” In other words: It’s okay to be creative, but listen to what’s going on around you. I never forgot that lesson.
As I gradually got into recording work, in an environment where creativity is combined with efficiency and experimentation is sometimes, but not always, welcome, I focused on tone as a form of expression, trying to make every note count. As drum sounds got much bigger during the ’80s, string bass was pretty much off the table as an option in most situations. Inspired by German bassist Eberhard Weber, I bought an electric upright 5-string built by Harry Fleishman a few years earlier. That theoretically self-indulgent purchase gave me an opportunity to carve out a tone that would work with both big drums and acoustic instruments. It gave me an identifiable sound and led to me playing that bass on records with artists like Keith Whitley, Trisha Yearwood, Alison Krauss, Emmylou Harris, and the Chieftains.
In a world of constantly evolving and merging musical styles, the options can be almost overwhelming, so it’s important to trust yourself. Ultimately, you are making a series of choices every time you pick up the instrument. Whether it’s pick versus fingers versus thumb, or clean versus overdrive versus distortion, and so on … you are the boss of your role in the song you are playing. When the sonic surroundings you find yourself in change, so can you. It’s all about listening to what is going on around you and finding that sweet spot where you can bring the whole thing together while not attracting too much attention.
On the other hand, if the song calls for you to ramp up the energy and lead the way like Chris Squire, Bootsy Collins, Geddy Lee, Sting, Flea, Justin Chancellor, or so many others, trust yourself and go for it. Newer role models like Tal Wilkenfeld, Thundercat, and MonoNeon have raised the bar yet again. The beauty of it all is that the bass and its role keep evolving.
Right now, I guarantee there are young bassists of all descriptions we have not yet heard who are reinventing the bass and its role in new ways. That’s what bass players do—we are the glue that ties music together. Find your power and use it!
Bassist Scott Thunes first started with Frank Zappa’s band when he was 21 years old.
The idiosyncratic musician has gone from Zappa to the classroom, even though he says “I can’t write a bass line to save my life.”
I was surprised, intrigued, and thrilled to encounter some rather audacious bass playing at an outdoor school benefit show I played this past fall in Lagunitas, California. I was nowhere near the stage (instead, I was waiting in line for my benefit show compensation—a free meal), but I could still hear the emergence of busy, angular lines and unusual chords rumbling across the hillside venue. When I started setting up for my band’s set and the earlier band was packing up, I spotted the responsible bassist, and it all made sense.
It was Scott Thunes, the low-end raconteur who started playing with Frank Zappa at age 21. He spent the better part of the ’80s in Zappa’s band, appearing on numerous live albums and a couple of studio recordings, including the bandleader’s 1982 Top 40 single, “Valley Girl.” His career resume includes stints with Steve Vai, Mike Keneally, the Waterboys, the Mother Hips, and Fear, among others.
In recent years, Thunes (pronounced “too-ness”) has toured with the re-formed Zappa Band, Banned from Utopia, which plays a few times a year at the venerable Los Angeles venue the Baked Potato. Catch one of these shows and you’ll see how Scott’s tremendous facility on his instrument and unusual creative approach add a level of complexity to Zappa’s famously challenging music.
“I can’t write a bass line to save my life,” he claims, striking a tone that seems less like a reluctant confession and more like a bold stylistic declaration. “For 99 percent of bass players, the job is to be the intermediary between the drums and the guitar—to be both harmonic and rhythmic. And a lot of bass parts have that really great element. That’s wonderful, but people who know my playing don’t hire me to do that,” he says.
“I’m not big on laying down a bass part and then just sitting on it. I’m not a groove monster, and I never have been. That’s not why Frank hired me. I need to have space to express myself, and unfortunately that makes me fall very drastically into the overplaying bass player type. I have absolutely no problem with that because Frank didn’t have a problem with that.”
Thunes describes his “mindful overplaying” as something he’s not always been happy with. “I’ve been fired from more bands than I’ve been hired by,” he deadpans, before allowing a slight, sly grin.
Then there’s the Ramones. Thunes is a teaching artist for the rock band program at Marin School of the Arts at Novato High School in Novato, California. On the day we spoke, his six teenage bands performed medleys of the pioneering American punk band’s material as part of a final exam.
“I was really not expecting them to do well with the Ramones,” he reveals, “especially the more advanced kids, who think the Ramones are too simple. But they pulled it off. I’m very happy about it. The energy was really high, the percentage of downstrokes was up at around 85 or 90 percent, and they got tired—they’re supposed to. It was a great experience for me today, to have my kids not piss all over one of the greatest bands of all time.”
As for his own approach to playing music. Scott says he doesn’t really think of himself as a bass player. “I think of myself as Scott Thunes, who has chosen the bass as the area in which I express myself,” he says. “Now, I may not be able to write a melody or a bass line, but I can find my way through the intricacies of a harmonic system and ply my trade. That’s really all I wanna do. I just want to find a space to put my stuff in.”
For a more in-depth perspective on Scott Thunes, check out two books by Thomas Wictor: In Cold Sweat: Interviews with Really Scary Musicians and Ghosts and Ballyhoo: Memoirs of a Failed L.A. Music Journalist.
Left to right: Joe Lally. Brandan Canty, and Anthony Pirog
The bassist, now with the Messthetics, has had a long learning journey. Thanks to the online-lesson boom, you can study directly from Lally.
Although it’s been years since the beginning of the pandemic, many monumental things can still be explained in a single phrase: It all started because of Covid. One of those is that you can take online bass lessons from Joe Lally, bassist and co-founder of Fugazi, the unyieldingly indie post-hardcore band that raged out of Washington, DC’s ever-vibrant punk scene. From 1987 to 2003, over the band’s six studio albums, assorted EPs, and hundreds of live shows, Lally demonstrated his utter mastery of intense, full-throttle bass playing and writing.
So you might be surprised to learn that such an accomplished low-ender didn’t always feel confident about his own musical knowledge. “I spent all that time in Fugazi not formally being able to articulate about music very well with the other people in the band,” Joe says. “It was very frustrating at times. There were times I wanted to leave the band because it felt like I couldn’t even talk about what I wanted to do.”
It was only after Fugazi went on indefinite hiatus that, realizing he wanted to keep making music, Joe decided to get some education. “I took a few lessons at Flea’s school in L.A., the Silverlake Conservatory. I studied with Tree, the dean of the school, who showed me some things about songwriting on piano. I was looking at it like I was getting piano lessons, but really he was showing me the sound of major, the sound of minor, and the sound of the dominant 7 chord. Those three chords are the basic beginnings of learning music theory.”
As Joe learned it, the major sound was “Here, There, and Everywhere" by the Beatles, the minor was Santana’s “Evil Ways,” and the dominant 7 was “I Feel Good” by James Brown. “I learned to play those chord changes on piano, and came to understand more about songs and completing my own song ideas.”
Joe mainly learned by asking questions. “To a degree, that’s what I want people to get from the lessons I give,” he continues. “There’s so much you can go into theory-wise, but you don’t really need to to be able to write music, play music, and figure out other people’s music.”
Joe went on to write and release three solo albums, as well as two with Ataxia, his project with Red Hot Chili Pepper guitarists John Frusciante and Josh Klinghoffer. In 2016, he formed instrumental jazz-punk fusion trio the Messthetics with Fugazi drummer Brendan Canty and genre-spanning guitar virtuoso Anthony Pirog. They’ve since toured heavily and released three full lengths. He also joined Ian Mackaye—Fugazi’s and the Evens’s singer-guitarist—along with Evens drummer Amy Farina to form Coriky.
Lally’s humble online flyer.
“I foolishly never picked up a book because I thought it would ruin what I did know. When I told a friend I was teaching theory, he asked, ‘Has it ruined your playing yet?’”
When off the road, Joe worked different jobs in DC’s independent music scene to pay the bills. But when the pandemic lockdown came, he decided to start giving online lessons. He made flyers and posted them on social media.
“I’m not teaching formal theory, which I think is weird and abstract and doesn’t show people everything,” says Joe. “It takes years of learning formally to see how everything is connected to see how this thing is part of that other thing we learned years ago. Most of my students are adults who have been playing but now want to know more about what they’ve been doing.”
But music theory is something we all operate within, says Joe, whether we’re knowledgeable about it or not. “We are engaged in theory. We just may not know it. When you’re playing or writing a song, you might think ‘that note sounds right’ or ‘that note sounds wrong.’ It's because we are relating it to something in theory that we’ve picked up from all the music we’ve listened to.”
Joe recognizes that some people are apprehensive about learning music theory, and he admits that when he was in Fugazi, he was, too. “I foolishly never picked up a book because I thought it would ruin what I did know. When I told a friend I was teaching theory, he asked, ‘Has it ruined your playing yet?’
“But formal study should use your thinking mind, and when you play, you’re outside of thinking. Creativity is outside of thought. You hear about jazz players who practice scales over and over, and what they’re really practicing is the sounds of these things that they want to hear. But when they play, they let go of all of that. So I realized my playing is never going to change. I’m always going to write the way I wrote.”
To immerse yourself in Joe’s creative world, check out the Messthetics’s 2024 album, The Messthetics and James Brandon Lewis, which adds saxophonist Lewis to the trio, bringing together Fugazi’s powerful rhythm section with two players from the creative improv world.
To inquire about bass lessons with Joe Lally, contact him on Instagram at @joelally898.
The Smiths’ 1984 press shot. From left to right: Andy Rourke, Morrissey, Johnny Marr, and Mike Joyce.
Bassists from California’s finest Smiths tribute bands weigh-in on Andy Rourke’s most fun-to-play parts.
Listen to the Smiths, the iconic 1980s indie-rock band from Manchester, and you’ll hear Andy Rourke’s well-crafted bass lines snaking around Johnny Marr’s intricate guitar work, Mike Joyce’s energetic drumming, and singer Morrissey’s wry vocal delivery.
But playing Smiths bass lines is a different experience altogether. Grab a pick and work your way through the thoughtful phrasing, clever choices, and spirited delivery, and you’ll realize that young Mr. Rourke was an understated genius of melodic bass. In other words, these bass lines are fun.
Andy Rourke was just 18 when he joined the Smiths, and 20 when they released their self-titled 1984 debut. Over four studio albums and numerous singles, Rourke anchored the band with memorable bass melodies that weaved through Marr’s busy guitar parts. After the group broke up, he recorded as a session musician with artists like Sinead O’Connor and the Pretenders, played in several bands, and worked as a club DJ. He died of pancreatic cancer in 2023, when he was 59.
To pinpoint the Smiths songs with the most fun-to-play bass lines, I consulted the experts: bass players from five Smiths tribute bands, all from California. These folks cop Andy Rourke’s style night after night, so who better to know which lines are the most fun? Here are our panelists:
James Manning plays in Shoplifters United, based in Marin County, north of San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge. He’s originally from Monmouth, Wales.
Martin “Ronky” Ronquillo plays in Los Esmiths from Calexico, California, near the southern border, as well as San Diego Smiths tribute band, Still Ill.
Mark Sharp plays in the Bay Area’s This Charming Band, as well as in tributes to the Cure, U2, and others.
Monica Hidalgo played in all-female Smiths tribute band Sheilas Take a Bow, with her sisters, Melissa and Melinda. They’re from the San Gabriel Valley, east of Los Angeles.
Joe Escalante has been in the pioneering punk rock band the Vandals since 1980, and with the L.A.-based Smiths and Morrissey tribute band Sweet and Tender Hooligans since 2004.
“Barbarism Begins at Home,” 'Meat Is Murder,' 1985
Manning: I love this line and I dread it. You’ve got to have stamina, especially if you’re playing it in regular E tuning. Tuning up to F# like Andy did makes it easier and the extra string tension adds to the twangy top end.
Ronquillo: This is one of those parts that just makes you feel like a bass player. It’s high energy, it feels good, and it’s maybe his funkiest bass line.
“Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now,” single, 1984
Sharp: With Morrissey’s lyrics, the shimmering Johnny Marr guitar parts, and Rourke’s amazing bass lines, this song is perfection. The bass parts are technically just brilliant.
Escalante: This line is fun to play but really hard. We played some events with Andy DJing, and he would ridicule me for trying to play these songs in E tuning instead of F#.
“The Queen is Dead,” 'The Queen Is Dead,' 1986
Hidalgo: This one is fun because it’s kind of funky. I would go to our drummer’s house and we would play the main riff for hours, just to make sure we were locked in.
Escalante: This is the song I warm up with, even when I'm playing with the Vandals.
“We played some events with Andy DJing, and he would ridicule me for trying to play these songs in E tuning instead of F#.” —Joe Escalante
“Cemetry Gates,” 'The Queen Is Dead,' 1986
Hidalgo: I really love this one. His bass line is very melodic, and it fits so nicely with the guitar.
Escalante: This one kind of just pops, and the lyrics are so dark but the bass line is really fun and playful.
“This Charming Man,” single, 1983
Manning: The bass is such a driving force and I love the vibe of it. Very soulful in the rhythms. There’s a part where he breaks into walking bass—it’s so unexpected.
Sharp: It’s an absolute standout track that showcases the perfect musical symmetry of Johnny Marr and Andy Rourke.
“Bigmouth Strikes Again,” 'The Queen Is Dead,' 1986
Hidalgo: It melds that tiny bit of funk with faster rock and a driving rhythm. You can hear how his influences come together.
“Still Ill,” 'The Smiths,' 1984
Ronquillo: This is a fun bass line, but it’s easy to get lost in. You’ve got to concentrate and can't really dance around, cause you gotta focus and get in the zone.
“There Is a Light That Never Goes Out,” 'The Queen Is Dead,' 1986
Hidalgo: People love this song, and it has that smooth vibe. The eighth notes are smooth and consistent.
“I Want the One I Can’t Have,” 'Meat Is Murder,' 1985
Ronquillo: This is a really fun song that’s pretty upbeat, and fast-paced. It gets you into that flow state.
“Girlfriend in a Coma,” 'Strangeways Here We Come,' 1987
Sharp: Andy’s performance highlights his different musical influences, as the reggae-flavored bass line works perfectly in the song.