Article by Todd Matthews

For jazz musician Michael Bisio, there's nothing that stirs his mood or sparks his inspiration quite like a bass solo.

"The phrase I always use is, 'The guy could rip my heart out,'" remarks Bisio, during a conversation at his home last month in Seattle's Seward Park neighborhood, shortly before his move to New York City. "That's not a very good visual, but I mean that in the best sense. They're guys who can make me cry or make me laugh. I can admire somebody who has great technique, and I can qualify that as great bass playing. But the things that I remember and walk away with are those kinds of heart-wrenching solos. That's what I listen for."

"The phrase I always use is, 'The guy could rip my heart out,'" says bassist Michael Bisio. "That's not a very good visual, but I mean that in the best sense. They're guys who can make me cry or make me laugh. I can admire somebody who has great technique, and I can qualify that as great bass playing. But the things that I remember and the things that I will walk away with are those kinds of heart-wrenching solos. That's what I listen for." (PHOTOGRAPH BY MIKE KLEIMO)

It makes sense -- and not just because Bisio, an accomplished musician who has worked and recorded with creative masters such as Charles Gayle and Joe McPhee, plays bass. Some of the most beautiful and deeply moving sounds come from an upright acoustic bass, particularly as part of a small-group jazz setting.

But if you ask people to identify musicians most associated with jazz, you'll probably hear the names of vocalists, saxophonists or pianists before a bassist's name pops up. In the rich catalog of jazz history, saxophone-, piano-, and trumpet-led groups outnumber the bass-led groups. Sure, bassists Dave Holland, Paul Chambers, Charles Mingus, and Ray Brown are key figures in jazz. But it's folks such as Holliday, Davis, Coltrane, and Monk that casual listeners unfamiliar to jazz can identify.

When I made this observation to Bisio, he agreed -- sort of.

"I think what I'm getting from you is audience perception," he says. "I think that's very true. But you have to understand that although there are a lot of great bass players who are leaders, a lot of times the bass player starts and, well, it's time to have a conversation. That's just part of it, and you have to be willing to accept it. People will accept a person who we call a 'front-line person' -- for lack of a better term -- as the leader, rather than they will this guy who is standing by the drums and may or may not be audible."

Bisio has a point: to some audiences, a bass solo serves as a quiet reprieve to chat or order another drink. There's an old joke among jazz musicians that goes something like this: a married couple goes to see a counselor because they stopped speaking to each other and their relationship is on the rocks. The counselor tries to get them to talk, but the pair just sits with their arms folded and their mouths closed. No matter how hard the counselor tries, nothing works. Finally, the counselor pulls out an upright bass and starts playing a solo. Instantly, the couple turns to each other and starts conversing for the first time in months.

"How on earth did you know that would work?" the couple asks.

"Simple," the counselor replies. "Everyone always talks during the bass solo."

Bassists are often recognized as 'sidemen' -- but rarely headliners or group leaders. They offer a soulful and baritone quality that provides a rich undercurrent for the rest of the group's music. Part of it is the instrument's ability (and expectation, even) to advance the music and, at times, provide a swinging sound that links other musicians.

In many ways, bass players provide a backbone for jazz.

Are bass players unappreciated and overlooked? It's easy to go down that road. But the majority of bass players interviewed for this article talked about how they cherished the organization, time keeping, and behind-the-scenes aspect of music making that is fundamentally a part of being a bass player.

And Bisio is quick to steer the conversation away from tagging bass players as underrated and unappreciated. "When it gets to that, I guess I think more in terms of whether musicians are underrated in general," he says. "I think it's a state of the business in relation to the art."

FIRST, THERE WERE TUBAS
Whether they're simply sidemen' or more integral (but less understood) parts of the music making process, one thing is certain: bassists are traditional and fundamental parts of the majority of jazz arrangements. If it's a big band, quintet, or trio, you will probably find a bass player in the group.

But that wasn't always the case.

During the earlier history of jazz, back in New Orleans around the turn of the century and into the early teens, the popular songs were two-beat tunes that relied heavily upon tuba players to keep the music moving and hold down the rhythm. Tubas had a loud, brassy, thundering sound that served well for outdoor performances that weren't amplified. As the music moved indoors, and a swing style of music became more popular, the bass started to appear alongside or in lieu of the tuba.

"Instead of a two-beat feel, it was more of a four-beat feel -- four quarter notes per measure," says Rachael Contorer, bassist in the Seattle Women's Jazz Orchestra and Hal Sherman big band, and a graduate of Cornish College of the Arts. "The bassist was included with the guitar player and the bass drum. Together, they would play the four quarter notes. Upright bass was much more capable of executing the four-beat feel -- and giving it a swinging forward movement -- than tuba because tuba players were constrained by the need to find places to breathe. This was where the rhythm section became more important. All three of them had to be doing that because there was no amplification. So you had three people trying to balance out generally 12 to 15 horns. As the music started to swing, the bass became the standard feature for holding down the low end -- along with the guitarist -- to give that four-beat feel."

"There was this transformation where, eventually, the bass took over," adds Bisio.

The acoustic bass was able to provide the 'walking' sound that started to gain popularity in jazz. Later on, when amplification technologies were created, the acoustic bass could be heard on its own -- and gained solid footing as part of the regular lineup of jazz personnel. As the bass became more accepted in jazz, individual bassists started to stand out. Pops Foster was famous for providing a double- and triple-slap style that is often seen in rockabilly groups today. Milt Hinton played that slap style, too, in addition to a more modern style with 'walking' and soloing hallmarks. Big band composer Duke Ellington frequently pushed bassist Jimmy Blanton into the spotlight. With Blanton, melodic bass solos (instead of just groove solos) became the norm. Oscar Pettiford took the bebop ideas that horn players perform, and incorporated them into the bass. And bassists like Scott La Faro, Ray Brown, Charles Mingus, Paul Chambers, and Dave Holland continued to advance audience interest in the instrument.

"The classic guys to listen to were Paul Chambers and Ray Brown," says Contorer, who recalls her early experience learning about the instrument. "That's partially because they first started recording a lot -- around the 1950s. That's when recording technology became good enough that you could actually hear the bass. Those were guys who were really doing the solid pioneering work where you could listen to them, transcribe the music, and play for yourself. I studied, of course, but I also learned a lot of the basics by listening to those guys in particular."

ONE INSTRUMENT, SO MUCH CONTROL
Those 'basics' to which Contorer refers are many, and point to the roles and responsibilities associated with the instrument. First, the deep (yet soft) sound the instrument creates provides a counter-point to the rest of the music performed. Indeed, it's the bass' sound that often draws bass players to the instrument early in their careers.

"The upright bass just spoke to me better," says Contorer, referring to her switch from electric to acoustic bass -- a transition common among acoustic upright bassists. She found the instrument's sound achieved what she was looking for musically. "It spoke for me better. I liked the sound and the feel. It's a very physical and eye-catching instrument. But it's really the sound. That's what I wanted to play."

Similarly, Bisio found the bass was the perfect instrument with which to create the sound he needed to communicate musically with audiences. "For me, it's all about the sound," he says. "When I say sound, I mean there's a quality that initiates who you are on many levels. I always try for a sound that's going to speak to somebody." Second, bassists bring a level of support and order to music. It's a characteristic of the instrument that often matches a characteristic of the performer.

"I love being in the supporting role," says Contorer. "With so much going on, I'm kind of the anchor. For my personality, I enjoy playing the supporting role quite a lot. I get to hear how everyone else plays stacked up on top of what I'm playing. I like being able to play that role."

"It was a personality match more than anything," says bassist Jeff Johnson, who recalls his early attraction to the instrument. Johnson has recorded three albums for Origin Records and performed with pianist Jessica Williams, saxophonists Benny Golson and Huston Person, and the late trumpeter Chet Baker. "I was able to find a place of quiet power. I wanted to play music, but I wasn't this standout sort of character. I loved the way that there was always music. I was always interacting rhythmically and harmonically. It's kind of like dancing, in a way. You're always a part of it. You never stop -- even when you are accompanying. That suited me."

Third, the bass quietly and surreptitiously controls the music.

"It's almost like being the Wizard of Oz inside the music," explains Johnson. "You can murmur or push things. You can really control a lot of stuff, and make or break the music with just little nudges against the time -- little suggestions, harmonically. Sometimes I'm strictly an accompanist, and I don't interact so much. And sometimes musicians insist that I interact, so I go that way. But I read it. I see what the music needs.

"One of the things that I say in clinics, when I'm defining my role, is that I'm a weaver on an old machine," adds Johnson. "You've got this thing, you open it up, and you kind of guide the thread coming through from cues of rhythm and harmony. I guide that thread through."

"Every musician is responsible for all these elements: time, rhythm, and harmony," says bassist Clipper Anderson. "The bass player is really tying up connections between the rhythmic and harmonic sides. The bass player can make things that are not right sound right."

That quiet power to keep time, outline harmony, and help other musicians stay on track with the music's form isn't a self-serving power grab for bassists – it's an expectation. "I've had many horn players tell me they always listen for the bass player," says Contorer. "A horn player will say, 'I'm listening to the bass. That tells me where the beginning of the bar is and I know what chord it is.' Most people wouldn't hear that, but that's what the bass player is doing for the rest of the band: keping the time, outlining the harmony, and helping people keep on track with the form -- with any luck at all."

Finally, the instrument's unique lyricism -- particularly during a solo -- creates that heart-wrenching sound Bisio describes. It's a feature of the bass that often pushes bass players to say more with through instrument without necessarily being flashier or more visible.

"What I've found lately is that I'm inspired by anybody who plays lyrically," says Contorer. "Having a ton of chops and being able to play blazing fast isn't important to me. I remember the things that sing. That's what I like to do with the bass -- whether I'm playing a straightforward bass line or soloing. How can I make something that I could sing along to? I listen to saxophone players, trombonists, and trumpet players. When I hear a good one, it makes me feel good. I think, 'That's what I want to play like.'"

THE SIDEMAN STIGMA?
Despite the number of roles and responsibilities for bass players, one word seems to follow these musicians around: sideman. The reference might instill a level of inferiority or lack of individuality, but the bassists I spoke with dismissed the label – looking instead to the overarching goal: creating and supporting music.

"The sideman tag doesn't bother me," says Chuck Deardorf, a bass player who has toured and recorded with Kenny Barron, Larry Coryell, and George Cable, and Music Department administrator and professor at Cornish College of the Arts. "Most bass players are really comfortable with that. It's in the nature of the instrument. That's going to be the majority of your job: taking care of business. As a bass player, that is what your role is in this style of music. Your job is to fulfill that role as artfully as you can. The role changes with every different combination of players. There's more time-keeping with big bands and large groups, and more open playing with trios and duos."

Johnson agrees.

"It has a subordinate sound, but I don't think it really is," he says. "It just might be a convenient way to classify things. It's never bothered me to be a sideman. I'm a sideman 90-percent of the time -- maybe even more than that. I never feel that's something that puts me in my place. The challenge to me is just to see what the music needs. I'd rather be a good sideman. I really don't believe you give anything up when you know the music sounds good."

Still, bass-led groups are rare. Does the sideman categorization hinder a bass player's ability to move out in front and lead a group?

"It's usually awhile before bass players decide, 'I'm going to do something that more reflects me,'" says Contorer. "I believe the average listener wants to hear a horn or voice or guitar -- something that takes the lead and is in more of a vocal range. As a bass player, you're mostly playing in support of that. Also, there are certain impediments. You don't have any hands free. You're always playing. You can't really direct very much.

"It can be done if you have a lot of skill," adds Contorer. "Chuck Deardorf has a track on the Deardorf/Peterson recording that's preceded by a separate bass solo. He's fabulous at that. He sets up the mood and people come in. It can be done. But it takes a phenomenal amount of skill. Not everyone can do that."

Doug Miller, a bassist and adjunct professor at the University of Washington, agrees that challenges exist for bassists to lead groups. "Whether in orchestra or jazz," Miller explains, "bass players are learning how to accompany because that's so important. It's harder for bass players to want to step out front. Also, a lot of people relate first to the melody, which bass is normally not playing. It's not going to strike them like a saxophone."

Bassist Jeff Johnson has recorded several albums with a trio and quartet under his name. As he explains it, though, the experience has been more collaborative than most individually led groups. "I think mainly what happened was I performed with certain people and realized, 'Ah, we have something here. We actually have a communication that we've developed,'" he says. "These people I recorded with, we had a link. We knew we could go places, trust each other, and try things. I think I just realized that this was something that should be recorded. As far as being a leader, I'm not so sure that I'm such a great leader. What we had was a gallery of things that we've found together over the years – things that needed to be documented. Maybe I had the energy or whatever to say, 'OK, this is the concept.' Maybe I led it that way. But as far as controlling the music, I didn't have to."

So the next time you're enjoying a live jazz performance, instead of leaning in for a conversation during a bass solo or focusing your attention on the front-line players, keep your eye on the bass player.

"It's kind of like opening up the back of a watch and looking at the mechanisms," says Johnson. "All these gears are moving and hopefully it's all formulating a sound. If you can hear that musicians are supporting each other -- maybe the way the bass interacts with the cymbal, swing, and feel -- but not getting in each other's way, then you can maybe follow the journey of the bassist playing in that space. Just listen to the subtle interactions. If it's going well, it's not just the drums playing against the bass. They intimately give each other room."

This article originally appeared in Earshot Jazz