Faith Does Not Work Without Do-The-Work
When I was in sixth grade, I can distinctly remember a guy named Todd, who I still see from time to time these days, telling me I should play bass.
I was interested in it anyway, because of my love of The Police and Sting. This would have been the mid-'80s.
And that was it for me. Bass was my instrument.
But I never really fought hard enough to get one.
I tried to play upright in orchestra, and my parents were against it. They didn't think I would make friends there. AKA, I don't think they wanted me to be a nerd.
So I was always looking for it, but maybe Todd just reinforced it.
I used to ride my bike up to a music store, Evans Music City on Westheimer in Houston. And they had this one bass that I loved. Never occurred to me that it was a crap bass and wouldn't sell, and that's why they always had it on the wall.
I'd grab it off the wall and pluck around on it. Didn't know anything. Didn't really have any efficacy towards it either, just loved it.
Sang for some bands in high school. Nothing serious, but when I got to college, I bought a Höfner Beatle Bass copy. Which I loved, but I think I destroyed taking it apart too many times.
I don't know why I kept taking it apart.
Then, late '90s. Mid- to late '90s. I got asked to join a band, and I bought my Rickenbacker 4001.
It was funny, there were two in the store, and I had real trouble deciding between the two. I clearly bought the right one.
Mainly lives in a case, but if I had to go down to one, that would be the one. Not my workhorse P-Bass, not my '62 P-Bass. It would be that Rickenbacker.
It's a 1977.
So, fast forward to being young and married in my very early 30s. I got in a pretty decent band and had to learn everything by geography. Like I didn't know where any notes were. It was just all vibe and feel. And pecking my way around, and spending lots of hours woodshedding.
Not sure what the event was that happened, but I think I kind of realized that I was terrible.
And I went to a music store. There used to be one on 29th here, where they only sold printed music, and I asked the guy, "If you had to go back and learn, what would you do?"
And he suggested Mel Bay, Book Number One, How to Play Bass.
So I bought it, and I went through the whole thing. (I do wonder if anyone has ever finished a method book? Seriously.)
That band eventually broke up, but then the singer and I did some recording about six months later.
We started playing, he looked at me, he's like, "What happened?"
Which was funny.
Now I could play.
You do have to have faith when working in music. Faith that the work is going to get you there, but you have to do the work.
I just never did the work. I don't know why. Guess I wasn't looking for the right answers. Or pushing myself in the right direction.
So weird. Like, on the sidelines forever.
But maybe that was preparing me for this 50-to-mid-'50s rock and roll odyssey that I'm on now. I arrived with the tanks full. I hadn't depleted anything.
You have to believe, but the part that I missed when I was young is you also, you have to do the work. And that it never arrives how you thought it would. But it works out.