As a member of Bob Marley and the Wailers, he was one of reggae’s original creators.
Bass is about connection—within the music, among the players, and between the musicians and the listener. Even if you can only hear a song’s bass line, say, in a noisy, crowded room, or through an adjoining wall, you might be able to recognize the song—and conjure up all the memories and emotions of how that song speaks to you. Simply through bass. In the musical conversation between rhythm and harmony, bass bridges the gap, gluing everything together. And chances are, as the bass player in your band, you’re not only providing that musical groove glue, but you may also be holding the band together practically and interpersonally. And the whole time, you’re making everyone and everything feel and sound good.
It’s hard to think of any player who embodied this idea of bass as connection more than Aston “Family Man” Barrett. Though (like most bass players) he’s not exactly a household name, he truly should be: As the long-time bassist, arranger, and coproducer of Bob Marley and the Wailers, his musical innovations and memorable lines are exceedingly familiar to anyone who has ever heard reggae music. “Fams,” as he was known, died in February of this year at 77, leaving a long legacy of reggae mastery.
Indeed, as Family Man was one of reggae’s original creators, he helped birth the bass-heavy Jamaican genre into existence from its stylistic precursors, ska and rocksteady. Together with his younger brother, drummer Carlton “Carly” Barrett, Fams created and established much of the hypnotic pulse and infectious vibe that characterizes reggae rhythms. Family Man’s feel was firm yet relaxed, his tone deep, dark, and plush. It was with these bottom-heavy colors, coaxed from a Höfner “Beatle” bass in his early years, then from his flatwound-strung Fender Jazz bass, that Aston Barrett crafted snaky, syncopated hooks and short melodic phrases that bolstered the vocal melodies while playing against the bouncing backbeats of the rhythm guitar and organ.
Before building his first bass from plywood and a length of 2“x4”, Barrett’s first musical love was singing along to American soul artists on Jamaican radio. “When I’m playing the bass, it’s like I’m singing,” Fams told music journalist Bill Murphy in a 2007 Bass Player magazine interview. “I compose a melodic line and see myself like I’m singing baritone.” You can hear his vocal-like bass stylings in songs like “Is This Love” and “Waiting in Vain.” These and many other Barrett bass lines serve as countermelodies, animated motifs that play against each song’s main vocal melody. Family Man’s parts are often easy to sing along to, so it’s easy to imagine Fams singing them in his head.
“Fams not only kept that intragroup connection strong, but he also went beyond the bass, creating and composing many of the intricate, interconnecting parts you can hear in any Bob Marley and the Wailers recording.”
The Barrett brothers played in several early reggae bands before joining the Wailers full-time in 1972, including famed producer Lee “Scratch” Perry’s house band, the Upsetters. In 1969, when the original Upsetters lineup couldn’t make a U.K. tour due to a scheduling conflict, Aston and Carlton’s band the Hippy Boys became the new Upsetters. In this group, they backed a pantheon of early reggae artists, including the Wailers, a vocal trio with Marley, Peter Tosh, and Bunny Wailer. The Upsetters eventually became the core of the Wailers’ rhythm section. Tosh and Bunny Wailer left the band in 1974.
It was years before, though, well before he had children (and he had a lot of children) that Aston Barrett began calling himself “Family Man.” This reflected how he saw it as his role to keep the band together. As the Wailers’ bandleader, arranger, and co-producer, Fams not only kept that intragroup connection strong, but he also went beyond the bass, creating and composing many of the intricate, interconnecting parts you can hear in any Bob Marley and the Wailers recording. But his primary musical connection was with his brother, Carly. Among other reggae conventions, the Barrett brothers pioneered the “one drop” rhythmic style, in which the bass and drums skip the downbeat—dropping the one—as you can hear in the bass and drum parts of songs like “Trenchtown Rock” and “One Drop.”
I met Family Man at the photo shoot for that 2007 Bass Player cover story, and again in 2012 when Phil Chen and I interviewed him onstage during the weekend he received his Bass Player Lifetime Achievement Award. During the photo shoot, we also shot a short video interview, which you can find on YouTube, where he demonstrates the “One Drop” bass line, plucking with his thumb between the end of the neck and the neck pickup. Even barely amplified, you can feel the depth that comes from Family Man’s bass approach. In the Marley years, that huge “earth sound” came from two Acoustic 18" speaker cabinets and two 4x15 cabinets. “You need them that big to get that sound,” Barrett told Murphy, “because reggae music is the heartbeat of the people. It’s the universal language what carry that heavy message of roots, culture, and reality. So the bass have to be heavy and the drums have to be steady.”Aston "Family Man" Barrett, Bob Marley & the Wailers bassist - 2007 Bass Player mag. interview 1/2
Here's the first part of Bill Leigh’s 2007 interview with Bob Marley & the Wailers' bassist Aston "Family Man" Barrett.
When so many cultures converge, creativity is bound to flourish.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to any that some of the most groundbreaking styles of music have emerged from unique metropolises where people, cultures, and ideas collide and intermingle. There’s nothing groundbreaking in this. It’s exactly what we humans have done ever since we became human, or perhaps even before. Thus, every culture, person, and music on Earth is actually a remix of something much earlier. As the saying goes, there is nothing new under the sun, but some things are certainly unique: the balti gosht (curry) from India, the guaguancó (dance) from Cuba, and epics of the Sahel from West Africa. There have always been regions known for attracting peoples from all over, and without fail these “melting pots” became perfect environments for new and exciting sounds.
I was born and raised in such a place—London. Even in terms of melting pots, it is somewhat special. The U.K. has been a major player in a number of transformative musical movements, particularly throughout the 20th century. The thing that makes it special is the way that this place has transformed whatever arrived at its shores. In every case, from reggae to drum and bass, rock ’n’ roll to prog rock, and hip-hop to grime, cities like London have smashed together the disparate sounds of their constituent parts in some of the most unpredictable ways.
The London that I grew up in was a place where one could find a little of every place that the British colonized. Ironically, the thing that made the U.K. such a great place for culture is that for around 500 years the British tried their very best to dominate and homogenize everywhere else, annexing peoples where possible and displacing where not. Inevitably, just like the capital of the Roman Empire, London ended up becoming a metropolis where people from throughout the empire came together. The Brits achieved the exact opposite of homogenization.
From reggae to drum and bass, rock ’n’ roll to prog rock, and hip-hop to grime, cities like London have smashed together the disparate sounds of their constituent parts in some of the most unpredictable ways.
Thus, my East London community featured traditions from England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Nigeria, Cameroon, South Africa, Bangladesh, Pakistan, India, Afghanistan, Jamaica, St. Lucia, Barbados … and that was just my street! (My home was one of three Trinidadian households on that street.) This is all to give you some idea of the level of integration. If you imagine growing up with so many cultures co-existing together, then you can understand why re-mixing became so second nature. What do you get when you cross Chicago house, Kingston dub, New York hip-hop, and Indian bhangra? Jungle aka drum and bass!
A typical Friday night for 25-year-old me might have included going to hear some music at the Blue Note, packed with an audience that was beyond excited to check out the “Jungle Beat” set, featuring Talvin Singh, a young Indian tabla genius educated in the Indian Carnatic tradition; Squarepusher, a young bass virtuoso who sounds a bit like Jaco, but also chops up James Brown’s “Funky Drummer” into microscopic pieces, rearranged on the fly into densely configured 180-plus-bpm drum patterns, which seem to go on forever and never really repeat; and a young, quirky Icelandic vocal gymnast who was somewhat unknown at the time named Björk.
On a Saturday night, I may have gone out to see the Jazz Warriors, a 20-piece big band that featured some of the hottest names in British jazz, such as saxophonist Steve Williamson, drummer Mark Mondesir, bassist Gary Crosby, pianist Julian Joseph, marimba player Orphy Robinson, and singer Cleveland Watkis. The Jazz Warriors were a collective of world-class, young, Black British jazz musicians, who came up with their own unique mix by blending bebop, reggae, funk, Afrobeat, and more.
Sunday night I may have spent onstage at the Jazz Cafe with my own band, Quite Sane, which featured members from South Africa, Mauritius, Jamaica, Zimbabwe, St. Kitts, and, of course, Trinidad and Tobago. Though this band was influenced by jazz, and in particular the M-Base I heard coming out of New York while growing up, we were also very influenced by hip-hop (Public Enemy, Mobb Deep, A Tribe Called Quest, etc.), as well as by Parliament-Funkadelic, Chaka Khan, Cecil Taylor, Miriam Makeba, Beenie Man, Fela Kuti, the Jazz Warriors, and even Igor Stravinsky! Want to know what this crazy mix sounded like? Check out our 2002 release, The Child of Troubled Times.
The thriving U.K. scene still continues to churn out a dizzying number of sub-genres (grime, AB-groove, broken beat, acid jazz, nu-jazz), and artists (Sons of Kemet, Soweto Kinch, Sona Jobarteh, James Blake, Lion Babe, Stormzy), who are the product of combined elements from all over. Who knows what will come next?
Six decades ago, George Porter Jr. invented Crescent City groove music with the Meters. On his new album, Crying for Hope, he's still carrying the grease.
Every morning at 6:45, bass luminary George Porter Jr.'s late wife's dog, Ms. Vicki, tugs at him to feed her and take her out. That's early as hell for most musicians, but perfectly fine for Porter, because when Ms. Vicki is busy doing number two, Porter is busy getting into his creative zone. In 2020, Porter used that small daily window of time to craft the bass lines for the songs on Crying for Hope, his latest release with his band the Runnin' Pardners.
"While I'm waiting for her to return, I'm tinkering with the bass. I have a pretty big folder of ideas," says Porter, who recorded his sketches straight to Voice Memos using his phone's built-in mic, rather than any sort of interface. "I have that new iPhone 12, so the recording is pretty decent. We actually used the bass lines from the phone recording. Michael [Lemmler, keyboards and vocals in Runnin' Pardners] cleaned it up."
Crying For Hope
Crying for Hope features a mix of songs that were written in Porter's recent morning meditations and others that were written in 2017. During that earlier period, the band recorded 27 songs with guitarist Brint Anderson, who was a member of Runnin' Pardners for 25 years. Shortly after the recording, Anderson parted ways with Runnin' Pardners and Porter shelved the sessions. Those tracks were seemingly lost in the ether and only resurfaced in May 2020 via a computer foible.
"I started getting messages a few months ago saying that my hard drive was full," recalls Porter. "The computer was new so I was saying, 'It can't be full, that's a 2TB drive. It's not supposed to be full.'" In the middle of doing some detective work, Porter peeked into some folders and happened upon a gold mine of tracks. "I said, 'Oh man, some of this stuff is good. Then I contacted Michael and said, 'Man, you know, I listened to these Runnin' Pardners tracks that we did with Brint, and I think we should bring them back to the table and add Chris Adkins [current Runnin' Pardners guitarist] to the tracks.'"
"I have that new iPhone 12, so the recording is pretty decent. We actually used the bass lines from the phone recording."
The numbers "Porter 13A," "I'm Barely," "Just Start Groovin'," "You Just Got Tired," and "Too Hot Too Cold" were recorded live during the original 2017 sessions. The tracks from the 2020 session were cut separately because of the COVID-19 lockdown, but still have a remarkably live feel. "We were using FaceTime for communication between the musicians, and the sessions were actually recorded up in the cloud using Pro Tools. We would load the tracks up into the cloud and then we were able to record in our individual studios. What pleased me the most about this record is that it doesn't sound like we're all in different studios. It sounds very live. Terrence Houston [drummer] got the tracks after we had totally completed all our parts."
No matter how the tracks were cut, they all have that deep Porter pocket. For decades Porter has been considered the quintessential groove bassist. Interestingly, his first instrument was a classical guitar his mother gave him on Christmas Day as both a Christmas present and an early birthday gift (he was born on December 26). Porter took lessons for two years, working on songs like "Home on the Range" or "Red River Valley." Then one day on the way to a lesson, he came across bassist Benjamin "Poppi" Francis on Robinson Street in his native New Orleans, playing the blues with his grandfather on guitar. That moment changed everything, as Porter got hit with the bug. At a guitar recital, Porter was slated to play a "cowboy" piece but pulled a switcheroo and instead played the bluesy "St. Louis Woman." Infuriated by this, his teacher gave him the boot. This turned out to be a blessing for Porter, as he devoted his time to picking things up from local musicians who would jam all night on the street, around the corner from his home.
George Porter Jr.'s Gear
Photo by Josh Hitchens
Basses & Guitars
- Fender P Bass (1970 body with a 1973 neck)
- Fender Telecaster bass (one of the first 100 made)
- D. Lakin bass refretted by New Orleans' Strange Guitarworks
- Lakland Bob Glaub U.S. Series Custom Shop 44-64 Classic Precision (modeled after the P bass)
- Lakland Bob Glaub Skyline 44-64
- Takamine electric/acoustic guitar
- Alvarez acoustic guitar
Strings
- D'Addario (.055–.065–.085–.105)
Amps & Cabinets
- Two Aguilar Tone Hammer 700 heads
- Aguilar DB 410 cabinet
- Aguilar DB 212 cabinet
Effects
- EBS OctaBass
- EBS UniChorus Studio Edition
- EBS BassIQ Blue Label
- TC Helicon VoiceLive Play
When he was 10, Porter connected with drummer Joseph "Zigaboo" Modeliste and the pair became a fixture on the New Orleans scene. After sitting in with bluesman Earl King, Porter was introduced to vocalist/keyboardist Art Neville by guitarist Herbert Wayne, who sent Porter out as a sub for him one night. Initially, Neville was unimpressed by Porter, calling him "the worst guitar player he ever heard." Neville had sought a lead guitarist and Porter was strictly a rhythm player. Later, Porter switched to bass and Neville caught him on a gig with Irma Thomas, the "Soul Queen of New Orleans." This time, Neville liked what he heard and pegged Porter to form a band. In 1965, with guitarist Leo Nocentelli added to the mix, the Meters were born.
The Meters were among the originators of funk, but offered their own unique New Orleans twist to the sound. They played four-hour gigs for six nights a week at the Ivanhoe Club on Bourbon Street and developed a telepathic musical bond. Later, the Meters became the house band for pianist/songwriter/producer Allen Toussaint and his label, Sansu Enterprises. That glory, however, came with a price in terms of creative freedom. Toussaint dictated the music with a heavy hand, and Porter's bass lines were relegated to mimicking Toussaint's left hand.
Porter suggests the Meters could have possibly been the first jam band, and he might very well be right.
Creative license to roam was the secret to the Meters' success. Porter suggests the Meters could've possibly been the first jam band, and he might very well be right. While the songs on the Meters' albums weren't much longer than three minutes, the band took that material and transformed them into simmering, transcendental marathon shows. It's no wonder their 1969 hit "Cissy Strut," a song that was finally inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2011, is considered by many to be the ultimate jam tune. The simple opening riff has served as a catalyst for countless epic and endless improv sessions. Now, there are even videos on YouTube where Porter finally puts his foot down and teaches everyone how to actually play the opening riff correctly.
Throughout the '70s, the Meters recorded eight albums and were held in high esteem by music royalty. Paul McCartney invited them to play at his Venus and Mars release party in 1975, on the Queen Mary, in Long Beach, California, and Mick Jagger was in attendance. This led to the Meters being asked to open for the Rolling Stones for both their 1975 American and 1976 European tours. However, this opening slot was not quite the dream gig you might expect. Hardcore Stones fans typically hate any opening act, and at a 1976 gig in Europe, the Meters had stuff thrown at them. During this incident, Jagger and Keith Richards had to come out and quiet the crowd. One positive highlight about the Rolling Stones saga for Porter was that, at one show, Eric Clapton urged the Stones to do an encore, which they usually didn't do. The Stones' bassist, Bill Wyman, had already left, so Porter got to sit in.
With their emergence in 1965, the Meters simultaneously began a course that would influence the history of New Orleans' music, soul, pop, and rock 'n' roll. The Meters on Saturday Night Live in New York City in 1977. Left to right: David Batiste Sr., George Porter Jr., Zigaboo Modeliste, and Leo Nocentelli.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
In 1977, the Meters disbanded after conflicts over ownership of the band's name (although the original members reunited for sporadic events from 2000 on). Years later, after a jam session at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, the Funky Meters were formed, and that band saw Porter, Neville, drummer Russell Batiste Jr., and Brian Stoltz (who replaced Nocentelli) taking more of a funk-rock approach, with Hendrix tunes being part of the repertoire.
Porter also formed Joyride, a band that he played with through most of the 1980s, and Runnin' Pardners, in 1990. By this time, Porter had developed a massive reputation in the music world and was called to collaborate and record by the likes of Tori Amos, David Byrne, Albert King, Robert Palmer, and Patti LaBelle. Porter's iconic P bass can be heard on classic albums like Palmer's Sneakin' Sally Through the Alley (1974) and classic songs like LaBelle's "Lady Marmalade." In addition to his main bands, Porter is also a prominent figure in the jam-band scene and has played with John Scofield, Eric Krasno, and the Tedeschi Trucks Band. He and the Meters received the Grammys' Lifetime Achievement Award in 2018.
Although he started on guitar, George Porter Jr.'s shift to bass proved to be a historic decision, defining the bottom end of New Orleans groove music and shaping the character of funk bass.
Photo by Michael Weintrob, Instrumenthead.com
Even though Porter has reached immortal status in the bass world, he's still relentless in his pursuit of the musical truth. He religiously documents every performance he can. "I have a little Zoom H4n, and I record, like, 100 percent of the shows that I'm in control of. It has four inputs, so I take two channels from the desk and the two ambient mics that's on the front of the H4, and every night I record four tracks. I have three 2TB hard drives that are full, and I'm working on trying to categorize the different gigs to a 4TB drive. I'm trying to gather all the Funky Meters shows that I have, all of the Runnin' Pardners shows that I have, all of the Porter trio shows that I have, and all the jam bands that I played in, and I'm putting them in. I've got that drive divided into four pieces."
Porter's archive is a constant source of study for him. "When I get off the gig and something happened that night, more than likely the next morning that gig is on the computer behind me, and I'm finding what that thing was." And if something really magical occurred, Porter might not even wait until the sun rises. "Before my wife [Aralean] passed away, I actually used to come home from the gig and sit down in the driveway and listen to the last set in the car. I usually would get to the house about 2:30 a.m. and I would sit out there for 45 minutes and, you know, usually my wife might call up and say, 'Hey, the music's too loud!'"