On Music and Traditions

In the world of classical music (most notably with the piano) there is a long history of performance styles passed down from their innovators by teachers from their general codification in the 19th century. In the non-classical music world, on the other hand, there is an inherent resistance to such a tradition of styles as originality (or at least the pretense of) is of such primary importance. Yet as the innovators in these popular musical styles recede into the past it would be of great service to the musical community, and to the listening public in general, to not let their musical innovations disappear along with them.

One notable example, especially relevant to those who play the electric bass, is the playing of Phil Lesh, the bassist in the Grateful Dead who now performs mostly with his own group Phil and Friends. Though the Dead were (and still are by some) dismissed as an inconsequential group of 60’s “hippy” leftovers, the devotion of their so-called “Deadhead” followers was perhaps matched only by the originality of their sound; a large part of which had to do with Lesh’s unique approach to the bass guitar.

Eschewing the finger plucked, “playing the root” style of most electric bassists, Lesh crafted a distinctive, contrapuntal approach (usually always using a plectrum), that was of crucial importance to the development and delivery of the Dead’s sound. Whereas nearly all other popular music groups in the history of the genre have played their songs (as well as their set-lists and indeed entire concerts) as similarly as possible each time they performed, the Dead, influenced as they were by directions in modern jazz, self-consciously tried to never duplicate themselves: “to never play a song the same way twice” was their unofficial motto. Not only did individual songs find themselves being constantly re-invented, however, but their concerts as well. Planned set lists were avoided in favor of getting on stage and figuring things out as they went along, which often meant (and deliberately so) not the usual practice of individuated 3-5 minute songs, but rather long stretches of unbroken music involving improvised segues between their always already partially improvised songs. Lesh’s relation to this can best be understood through a brief digression into the specifics of his playing style, and how different it is from the vast majority of other electric bassists.

The traditional approach to playing the bass in popular music can perhaps best be understood as having a primarily vertical role. As all beginning bass players are usually—and, I agree, should be—taught, the function of the bass, as the lowest pitched instrument, is to define the harmony; meaning that all other notes played at the same time are related by the listener’s ear to the note played by the bass. Thus, a piano player playing an A minor chord (A, C, E) with his left-hand and soloing using an A natural minor scale with his right can find both the chord and the scale he is playing instantly re-defined as soon as a bass player plays an F note; causing the A minor chord to be heard instead as a F major seventh and the A natural minor scale (or Aeolian mode) to respectively become a F Lydian mode (the fourth modal inversion of a C major scale).

Lesh’s style, in contrast, is best understood as functioning much more in terms of the horizontal elements of music. Instead of focusing primarily on defining the vertical harmony by emphasizing the roots and fifths of chords, his playing acts very much like a bass lead guitar in melodic counterpoint to the higher melodic lines; whether sung or played instrumentally. Using thirds and sixths (all the notes of the chord/scale in fact) to a much greater degree than most bassists—often beginning a melodic pattern on a higher pitch and then working down to the chord fundamental—he is able to realize more melodic, and thereby contrapuntal, bass lines than are usually found in popular music.

The problem with this approach, and the justification for the traditional emphasis on roots and fifths, is that it leads to aural instability—harmonies lacking definitive grounding. As the Grateful Dead showed, however, this is not necessarily a bad thing.

As explained above, the Dead’s performances were uniquely characterized by long stretches of music (often lasting an hour or more) made up of alternating rehearsed (at least partially) and non-rehearsed (i.e. improvised) sections. A notable early example of this would be their second set performance from November 8, 1969 at the Fillmore West Auditorium in San Francisco (the entire concert has been officially released as Dick’s Picks 16). The set list (“>” indicating a musical segue) is: “Dark Star>The Other One>Dark Star>Uncle John’s Band Jam>Dark Star>Saint Stephen>The Eleven>Caution (Do Not Stop on Tracks)>The Main Ten>Caution (Do Not…)>Feedback>We Bid You Goodnight.” Notice the recurrence of the same song more than once. This is a common happening for the Dead that means not the same song played twice (or three times as “Dark Star” seems to be here so indicated), but rather different portions, verses or even just the tonal/modal and rhythmic qualities of a song being segued into (and eventually out of) as their temporary improvisational “space.”

In a context like this, Lesh’s melodically-horizontal—yes contrapuntal—bass playing fits perfectly. Indeed it would be hard to imagine the Dead’s musical explorations developing as they did with a more conventional bassist. Though the bass in popular music lacks the inherent “star” quality of the lead instruments (usually vocals and lead guitar) it is arguably of more crucial importance in determining the overall “sound” of an ensemble due to its functionally structural role: helping to define both the rhythmic and harmonic basis (no pun intended) of a song . The harmonic instability due to Lesh’s more horizontal style is then precisely what gives the Dead’s music its sense of momentum, of directionality that is so integral to their extended playing approach. Paradoxically, the other interestingly unique aspect of his playing is his sometimes playing of chords—something most bassists avoid because of the bass’s low pitch and its difficulty when not using a plectrum. (For an excellent example, see the officially released Dick’s Picks 12, first disc, track 7, from approximately 1:06 to 2:23.)

Alright, you might be saying, but why is this important for other bass players with their own styles and methods? The answer is that the more conventional vertical style of bass playing, while highly effective in some contexts, presumes an end result—music with stable, “grounded” harmonies—that should by no means be accepted as necessary or even always desirable. In fact, I would argue, the emphasis on the importance of stable harmonies and the subsequent necessity of therefore playing “vertically” reveals a musical mindset that is characterized by its own kind of stability—utter predictability. For other than musical groups influenced by the Dead (the now defunct Phish, String Cheese Incident and Widespread Panic among others) and those now involving former members of the Dead (Ratdog with Bob Weir and the previously mentioned Phil & Friends), live popular music is for the most part now typified by a total avoidance of risk-taking.

That most performers want to do the best they can each and every performance is an obvious truism. Yet in the past unrepeatable human action, with its inevitable foibles and imperfections, guaranteed that not only would every performance not be perfect, but that indeed sometimes they might fail altogether. In the case of music, the “perfections” that are made possible with all-digital (therefore totally manipulable) recording software such as Pro Tools, and (for live performances) real-time pitch correction effects — the TC Electronics “Intonator” being one of the most popular— (among other things) as part of already completely choreographed shows, however, reveals a performance reality defined by its mechanization and necessary elimination of as much subjective initiative as possible.

The political or broader sociological significance of this should not be hard to see. Art is, I would argue, by definition an expression of human subjectivity; a placing of an order, or at least understanding, around an expression or physical state. For our civilization to have therefore realized an artistic (at least as defined functionally) performance reality that is so fundamentally at odds with this essence of art should be of at least some concern to intelligent people.

An instrumental performance practice that helps counteract this mind-numbing predictability should therefore not be taken lightly, or easily forgotten. And though I think it important to try to develop one’s own “voice” on an instrument, this should not be taken as an emphatic, self-justifying quest for originality. Though it does sometimes happen, the vast majority of legitimate musical (and more broadly artistic) performances have, in fact, nothing, original about them. If originality is supposed to be the criterion of art then few things would indeed so qualify. It is rather the exemplification of a certain skill that is generally sought in artistic performances. When true originality does occur, it is by incremental evolutions—syntheses of what has come before—rather than the supposed inspiration of a lone tormented genius—an overall nefarious idea, still sadly with us, due to the continuing influence of Romanticism, especially in the popular music world, and its veneration of Beethoven’s famous “Heiligenstadt Testament” that was written by him in 1802 at the outset of the hearing loss that would eventually render him completely deaf.

I am by no means here arguing that Lesh’s style should be slavishly imitated by other bassists. Whether anyone could ever, in fact, realize a convincing copy of his playing is itself perhaps doubtful. Yet, that should not discourage musicians, bass players in particular, from learning what they can from one who has made such an original, and so far more or less unique, contribution to the performance practice of an instrument less than sixty years old; as well as to seriously consider what kind of extra-musical political and social effects their performances might have on themselves and on those who listen and watch.