Big New York may have six strings, but he’s leading from the low end.
Bandleading on bass offers a unique challenge. Here’s how one player rises to the occasion.
Bassists are natural leaders, both rhythmically and harmonically, but filling the foundational function doesn’t always lend itself to becoming an actual bandleader or solo artist. For most of us, that’s just fine. We’re perfectly happy holding it down and creatively keeping things together. (Of course there are plenty of exceptions: Stanley Clarke, Les Claypool, Meshell Ndegeocello, Thundercat, and Victor Wooten, to name a few.)
But for those who do envision themselves centerstage, making the shift to leader requires a new way of thinking. To get some perspective, I wanted to talk to a bassist with recent experience transitioning to being in charge. I immediately thought of Big New York.
I met Big New York nearly 20 years ago at Bass Player LIVE!, back when Bass Playermagazine held its annual event in Manhattan, before moving it to Hollywood from 2008 to its final act in 2017. Christian de Mesones told me people only started calling him Big New York after he moved to Virginia, where his stature and distinctive accent stuck out. “In New York, there’s about a million guys who look and sound like me,” he laughs. It turns out that he lived in my sorta-hometown of Woodbridge, Virginia, where he recently retired after nearly two decades driving school buses.
Following his late ’70s graduation from the Bass Institute of Technology, Christian played in dozens of bands over the years. Then, ten years ago—with his wife’s firm encouragement—he decided to start leading his own project. Though he grew up listening to hard rock and heavy metal—kids loved it when he played AC/DC and Black Sabbath on his bus—his own sound blends soul and jazz with Latin feels. After steadily releasing singles and holding high-profile performances with special guests, Christian released his debut album in 2020, They Call Me Big New York. The following year, his track “Hispanica (Instrumental),” featuring legendary pianist Bob James, climbed to No. 1 on Billboard’s Smooth Jazz Airplay charts. This spring he released his sophomore album, You Only Live Twice.
As a leader, Big New York is a composer, an arranger, a marketer, a strategist, a people manager, and a showman—all while still being a bass player. Here’s what he says about these different aspects:
On whether being a leader means always playing the lead: “I’ve always been writing music, from the day I first picked up the bass. I write everything on the bass—melodies, grooves, and chordal structures. I do almost all my writing on my Alembic Epic, but I don’t feel like everything I write has to be played on bass. There are only a few songs where I’m playing the lead melody on bass. If you’re coming into the market brand new, you can’t focus only on yourself or even be the best musician in your band. Believe it or not, the narcissism shows.”
On the critical importance of low end: “If you play lead bass, you have to have another bass player backing you because without it, the music drops. I don’t like that. That’s why I hire a keyboard player that doubles on bass. He keeps his bass nearby for when I play lead.”“I try to make that connection with the audience so they’re with us all the way.”
On having a leadership personality: “You’re taking care of so much—the payroll, the bills, and so many things. So you’ve got to deal with people in a way that they don’t take any energy from you. You may not want to hear someone say, ‘Sorry, my car broke down,’ or ‘My dog ate my homework,’ but that’s what you’re going to get, even from the best musicians on the planet. It’s up to you to bite your tongue, not flip out, and just say everything’s going to be alright. You’ve gotta have backup players, so if one horn player is gone for the gig, you can still do the show. You’ve always got to think of a way to not lose your cool, but it can be hard when it’s your money on the line.”
On showmanship: “When it comes to the dynamics of the show, I know where the lows should be, where the highs should be, where the climax should be. I create it; that’s part of the job. I usually put the bass-led songs near the end. On a recent show I brought in Bill Dickens and Al Caldwell as bass guests, and after the show they paid me a great compliment. They said they really loved watching me leading the band and communicating with the audience. I try to make that connection with the audience so they’re with us all the way.”
On the biggest challenge to being an artist and a bandleader: “The fight to stay relevant. I’m mature enough to realize if I get my few minutes of fame, someone else should get theirs. But when it happens once, you are hoping it’s going to come around again for you. You don’t want to fade away.”Sanding blocks are just one of the many things you should probably be keeping organized.
The stereotype of the messy artist is a tired old meme. Get it together and get organized.
It’s hard to admit that you’re a slob. Lack of organization is pretty much looked down upon in most professional arenas. It’s also hard to imagine successful people waking up on stained futons and stumbling through a minefield of snack wrappers while looking for their cleanest dirty shirt. That is unless that wealthy schlump is a famous rock star. Is it the artist’s way, or letting go of the illusion of control? Either way I think it’s a stereotype—and one that cuts both ways.
Like a child who is repeatedly told they’re not good enough, sometimes we talk ourselves into playing a part that doesn’t let us spread our wings. Maybe you think that cleanliness and order get in the way of creativity and performance. I used to think that, too. Then I read an article about Roger Penske, one of the most successful racing team owners of all time. Even from the time he was a rookie driver he was known in the paddocks for having immaculately prepared cars. Other drivers and teams were amused by Penske’s mechanics, who kept his cars sparkling clean top and bottom, inside and out, for each and every run on the track. They thought it was some kind of show or blamed it on his ego. But that fastidiousness meant that Penske’s team could spot a tiny leak or potential part failure that might have otherwise been hidden by grime. A well-maintained machine allows the driver to do what they do best—drive. You can roll your eyes, but it’s hard to argue with 18 Indianapolis 500 wins, and 16 season championships.
If you imagine that keeping a race car clean is different from organizing the wiring on your pedalboard or keeping your workbench tidy, you’re running uphill in lead boots. Concise and well-ordered workspaces allow problems to stand out and are therefore easier to diagnose. Reduction of clutter allows you to attend to the creative stuff, which is the whole point. For those who say that friction is fodder for the creative endeavor, I challenge you to write a song about hunting for a screwdriver in a cluttered drawer. On second thought, that’s something that people can relate to. Another thing we can all relate to is having our guitar cut out in the middle of a gig. It’s easier to fix quickly when the signal chain is clearly routed and marked. I know a guitarist who has an emergency bypass pedal that circumvents his entire board directly to the amp via a redundant cable for just this purpose. Maybe that’s a little over the top, but the show must go on, right?
For those who say that friction is fodder for the creative endeavor, I challenge you to write a song about hunting for a screwdriver in a cluttered drawer.
In the workshop, it’s much the same. You don’t need the headache of searching for something in a disorganized bin when you’re in the flow. Concentration is doing one thing at a time, so endlessly looking for tools or parts in a place that resembles a war zone breaks your attention. Preventative protocols can keep things on track. When I visit or see photos of workshops with piles of parts and tools everywhere, I feel sorry for the employees and the customers.
Visual systems are priceless. Whether it’s your workbench or your signal chain, it’s helpful to color code stuff. It makes things easier when you’re in a hurry, or just trying to finish on time. Wire ties come in a rainbow of colors and, aside from anchoring cables down, can serve as guides. Determine a code and start with simple things like white means in, red means out. This makes it simple to troubleshoot a problem. If you have multiple systems or paths, use more colors. Laminate a legend on the gear reminding you or a tech what’s what. In the workshop, tools and jigs can be color coded. I have small sanding block racks that have different grades of abrasives loaded on each block. The slots on the racks are colored to each grit, which is also marked on the blocks. I know which grit goes with each color, so I never reach for the wrong block. It takes a little time to get the hang of it without resorting to looking at the numbers (also stamped on each block), but guitarists are good at remembering sequences.
Musicians have often been pictured as shambolic, but the vision of a painter’s studio piled high with half-squeezed tubes of paint and rags soaked with mineral spirits is a tired old meme. The truth is that buying into the myth of creative disarray is not helping any cause. Instead, a dose of tidiness can really work to your advantage. So, stop painting yourself into a false narrative and revel in the freedom that neatness neurosis provides. Now, where did I leave my label maker?