Max: Bass Desires

This time two weeks ago, I was somewhere deep within the bowels of Illinois, heading for Bass Camp. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. This time last week, I most likely had my bass strapped to me, running through the dexterity exercises Anthony Wellington showed us. Today I am the room that will eventually be my office, but for now is one of the catch-all rooms we are using for storage while we slowly rebuild this house.

Outside there is a cloudless sky. It is somewhere in the 70's, heading toward the 80's. I am feeling somewhat antsy and restless on this, the first day I have had off since getting back to work. I am going to aim that restlessness at my bass as soon as I am done writing this. I can't remember a time when I did not want to be a musician. The problem was I never was willing to work at it. I would hit random keys on the organ my parents had in their living room, ignoring the books we had on how to actually play the silly thing. I would frown at my mother when she would harrass me to practice my trombone (or clarinet, or guitar, or whatever instrument I had decided that week I was going to learn by osmosis). My main problem in life is that I have been so unwilling to work at just about anything, even things I really care about.

I have loved the bass since before I knew what the bass was. I knew that in most bands there was always one guitarist who sounded way cooler than the other(s). I would always look for the guy who made that awesome sound. Somewhere along the way I figured out that his guitar was bigger than the others, but had only four strings. In a way, I felt a little cheated. The really cool sounding guitar only had four strings? What kind of ripoff was that? Who would want to play a four string guitar (even a cool sounding one) when there are six string guitars in the world? Then cameth John Entwistle. Even though I was a generation removed, I was forever changed by "My Generation." Shortly after that, I discovered Chris Squire, Greg Lake, Geddy Lee, Jaco, Victor Wooten... Bass became an obsession.

But still I was unwilling to work at it. I have owned a bass since the early 90's. But for most of that time, it maybe saw the light of day every few months. When I did pull it out, I mostly just futzed around, wishing I could play like my heroes, unwilling to put in the work they did. On occasion I would make a semi-serious attempt to learn something, to practice. Usually I would get frustrated. Or I would get distracted.

For the past week, I have been doing what I should have been doing since that box from Carvin was first dropped at my door. I have been working. My first three days back form camp, I probably spent 90 minutes a day practicing. Since then, I have given up 10 minutes of sleep every morning since I went back to work, along with my early morning computer time, to buy myself a half hour of practice in the morning. I try to squeeze in at least another 20 minutes at night as well. Of course, this time, I am actually enjoying it. I am not looking at this long path of boring practice that cruel fate has thrown up between me and my destiny as a rock star. Rather, I am taking pleasure in being where I am as player, enjoying the process of becoming better, step by step, and not worrying so much about where it may lead.

So there is one thing that changed in me while I was at Bass Camp.