Music School

Aston Barrett is the acknowledged father of reggae bass. His essential one-drop rhythms have infiltrated everything from rave to rock. (Did somebody call the Police?) Recorded live during the Wailers’ 1978 world tour, Babylon by Bus is driven by Family Man’s immense tone and amazing feel. He and his drummer brother, Carlton, laid down some of the skankinest grooves ever; here they connect on several Marley classics, including “Exodus,” “Stir It Up,” “Is This Love?,” and “Jamming.” Though the stadium-rockin’ Wailers of ’78 were a far cry from the bare-bones studio crew that
all but invented reggae in the late ’60s, the Barrett Bros. were never mightier than on Babylon by Bus. This disc is also one of the best-recorded examples of live bass: it’s deep, clear, and well placed in the mix (a real subwoofer delight!). Throughout the record, Family Man’s ’70s J-Bass surrounds the audience with a thick throb. Wicked bass, mon.

Modern jazz bass starts here. Duke Ellington’s landmark 1940 duets with the 21-yearold Jimmy Blanton simply changed verything. The duo’s continual swapping of rhythmic, melodic, and harmonic roles throughout “Body and Soul” and “Sophisticated Lady” is a clear illustration of Ellington’s and Blanton’s boundary-breaking approach to bass. But the centerpiece of this collection is the amazing “Mr. J.B. Blues.” Based for the most part on the simplest of 12-bar forms,
the piece allows Blanton the freedom to showcase (1) his masterful rhythmic acuity and pizz chops, (2) the unprecedented expressiveness of his left hand, and (3) his advanced grasp of extended harmonies.
Still, young Jimmy’s greatest contribution to jazz bass is more a matter of feel than technique. His revolutionary ability to imply a steady beat without merely thumping on one and three provided the model—and the inspiration—for all jazz bassists who followed to continue expanding the eretofore-limited role of the instrument. For some seriously in-depth analysis of “Mr. J.B. Blues,” along with several other Blanton-era Ellington works, check out Ken Rattenbury’s book Duke Ellington, Jazz
Composer [Yale University Press].

The fine and subtle art of country bass undoubtedly reached
some kind of apex with these classic early-’60s recordings.
Though producer Owen Bradley may have come up with the
idea of doubling the upright with a flatpicked Danelectro sixstring bass (ostensibly to render the bass line audible through tiny transistor radio
speakers), much of the credit for the successful implementation of the new “tic-tac”
sound goes to bassist Bob Moore and Owen’s brother, session guitarist Harold.
Moore’s stately lines and buoyant rhythms form, on their own, a near-complete study
in tasteful country comping. But once Harold started doubling ’em with his Dano, the
whole rhythm section achieved an airy lift and a delicate sense of motion few bands
have matched since. From the rolling click of “Walkin’ After Midnight” to the sweet
and relaxed bounce of “She’s Got You” to Harold’s elemental embellishments of
Moore’s line on “Crazy,” this dynamic duo wrote the book that’s still required reading
for all Opryland wannabes.

“Jack isn’t just a famous bass player. He’s an important source of
music, a fountainhead where rock and blues meet with passion
and brains. He’s an original.” Jeff Berlin wrote that (see
Sept/Oct ’93), and it’s a perfect summary of Bruce’s brilliant
contribution to music history. Before him, there were only a handful of notable electric
bassists, headed up by James Jamerson and Paul McCartney—and even they were
known primarily for their skill as accompanists. Nobody had ever pushed the bass to
the front of the stage and made audiences sit up and listen as Jack Bruce did in the late
’60s.
Wheels of Fire is the essential Jack Bruce album simply because it captures both his
studio and stage personalities so well. On the studio tracks, he’s a thoughtful and even
economical player, focusing on the groove, and he brings the full range of his abilities
as a writer, arranger, singer, and multi-instrumentalist to bear. Live, Jack was (and is) a
maniacal improviser, stretching the limits of the songs—and his gear—to the breaking
point. The two live tracks on Wheels of Fire are classics, but don’t forget the great
stuff on Live Cream and Goodbye [both on Polydor]. And there’s loads more to
appreciate on Jack’s solo albums, from Songs for a Tailor [Polydor, 1969] right up
through Monkjack [CMP, 1995].

A unanimous choice by our Latin bass panel (see Ask The Experts, page 26, June ’97). During the 1930s, Cachao caused quite a commotion by bringing Afro-Cuban rhythmic elements to the traditional Cuban dance form called danzón. Two decades later, he revolutionized Cuban music again with this historic album, which introduced the descarga jam-session format. Lincoln Goines describes the disc as “A dictionary of Cuban styles over exquisitely performed
short tunes and improvisations”; Oscar Stagñaro echoes, “It’s the encyclopedia of phrasing, tumbaos, and melody,
all in one.” Andy González points to the interplay between Cachao, Pata Guinas on congas, and Yito
Iglesias on bongos. For some easier-to-locate Cachao, check out 1995’s Master Sessions, Vol. 1 & 2 on Epic/ Crescent Moon

One look at a resumé that includes Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue [Columbia] and John Coltrane’s Giant Steps [Atlantic] tells you all you need to know about the stature of Paul Chambers in the jazz world. (Kind of Blue boasts Chambers’s bass feature “So What,” while Giant Steps includes Trane’s tribute to the bassist, “Mr. P.C.”) Chambers was a mainstay on the
New York scene from the mid ’50s to the early ’60s. Although alcohol and heroin abuse led to his untimely
death at age 34, he nonetheless burned as brightly as any bassist in this century. On this classic 1956 Davis date with Coltrane, drummer Philly Joe Jones, and pianist Red Garland, Paul’s modern, forward-thinking approach is
evident via his strong, relentless, melodic walking lines on such tracks as “If I Were a Bell” and “I Could Write a Book,” as well as his brief, bluesy, bebop-rooted solo on the Rhythm-changes romp “Oleo.” (He was quite an accomplished soloist with the bow, too.)