The following is a guest post by New York City bass player Chris Tarry.
If you put me in a room, say 14 x 10, give me an amp, a bass, and few minutes alone, I can come up with a pretty good bass sound. There’s control to be found in small places. It’s how we usually test our gear, in a confined space; studios, bedrooms, garages, and music stores. We’re in control and as bass players, that’s a good thing. The problems begin when we step onstage.
One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced over my career as a professional bass player is the struggle between my bass sound onstage, and the bass sound often rumpling from a house P.A. I play all kinds of music, but often I find myself on a quiet gig in a large venue, strapped to the misguided intentions of a rock & roll soundman; the kick drum and bass rattling the venue’s rafters in a kind of subterranean frenzy, my on-stage amp fighting to be heard and losing horribly.
It’s not just quiet gigs where this becomes a problem. Loud gigs that require accuracy of tone, precision of fingers, funkiness of line, are also at risk from an overzealous bottom-end-loving soundman. It can affect the way we touch our bass, infringe on our confidence, and make us second-guess our musical choices in a given moment. When I hear more bass coming from the audience that from behind me, I’m easily confused.
There’s a few ways I’ve tried to remedy this over the years. I’ve tied turning my amp up, which, inevitably results in a call from the soundman to turn down my stage volume. I’ve been immature and unplugged my line to the soundboard—I don’t recommend this, soundmen aren’t fun when they’re angry. I’ve tried turning down my amp in hopes of someone else in the band noticing, because there’s power in numbers. Alas, it is hard to compete with boom-shaking rafters. Shaking rafters feel good to anyone not holding a bass.
What has worked is to be direct. I often talk to the soundman beforehand, tell him how I enjoy hearing more bass on stage than from the front-of-the-house. They’re usually very receptive and often talk at length on the acoustic properties of bass in their venue. I sit, listen patiently, and try not to let my eyes glass over. Sometimes soundmen like to put bass in the onstage monitors. This is a no-no (unless you’re playing in an airline hanger), I often check to make sure this hasn’t happened.
When all else fails I cut the low end on my amp and try to blend what I hear coming from the audience with my amp and where I’m standing onstage. Another trick I’ll use is preparatory. At home in my studio I’ll practice playing with an unsatisfactory bass sound (either two bass-heavy or two much high-end), in order to train myself to play through the sound, to be confident in a stage mix I’m not happy with. In the end, I can’t stand in the audience and play (oh how I miss my eighties wireless setup), so I have to default to the soundman and hope they have everything sounding good.
One of the most effective ways to combat the Boomies can be to raise your amp off the stage, though this can sometimes cause a “too-much-information-moment”, pointing out inadequacies in our playing; when an amp is pointed at the back of my legs, I somehow sound better. Short of all of it, in-ear monitors, if your band uses them, can be an excellent investment. But even in-ear monitors lack that kind of ass-shaking-awesomeness that comes from an amp and me alone together in a room.
It’s a shame. We spend all this money and time picking out the perfect amp, the right bass and strings. We buy pedal boards, and cabinets that stack to the size of refrigerators, and in the end, the bass sound is often out of our control. But as professionals we must look past all of it. Our job is to make the artist we’re supporting feel supported regardless of our own issues. I find when I can do that, when I can put the Boomies at bay and keep smiling, that’s when the music really shines.