Thu, 05/21/2020 - 9:05 am

While musicians are dealing with canceled tours and extra time on their hands, music director and drummer Adam Chase (Jazz Is Phsh, James Brown Dance PartyChase Brothers) is picking the brains of some of the most interesting musicians in the jam scene and sharing his findings with us at Grateful Web.  This week Chase gets bassist Reed Mathis to dive into the power of the bass guitar.

GW: Can you give us some general info about the Bass guitar?

RM: Bass.  I love that word. Say it out loud, "bass."  The sound of it tells you a lot about the traits of the instrument.  The thumpy "Be" sound, like a finger striking a low string.  The long vowel, "Eyyyyyy," like a low note resounding slowly throughout your chest cavity.  The gradual tapering off of the "essssss," disappearing inconspicuously leaving space to expect the next sound.

That sound, of course, can also be spelled as "Base."  As in the base of a house, or the reliable part of any weight-bearing structure.  Or, the base could be considered home plate, where you score, where you're "safe."  It could be the base of your argument, the one organizing principle that begins and concludes your passionate logic.

These three homonyms, and the sound of the word itself, tell you just about everything you'd care to know about the instrument & its behavior.

Reed Mathis

GW: What makes bass guitar so special?

RM: Bass Guitar is unique, in that it is the offspring of both Guitar and Bass Viol ("upright bass"), and yet it is fully neither. It's technically a guitar; you wear it or play it seated, you strum or strike the strings in down and upstrokes, it goes into pickups and then to an amp, it has frets, tuned in fourths, same kinds of fingerings, etc etc etc.  And yet, it isn't a guitar.

It's also technically the same-ish instrument as the Upright Bass, they are tuned the same, they make the same pitches in the same positions, occupying basically the same role that the upright bass occupied in pre-1960's swing & Latin music.  And yet, it clearly is not an upright bass.

In this way, it's identity is similar to the predicament we modern humans find ourselves in.  We are the inheritants and custodians of our ancient nervous-systems and all the primal needs & sensations that come along with it, just as the Bass Guitar fulfills the sonic role of so many of its predecessors down the centuries.  But, here in our futuristic now-times we find ourselves adapting quickly to unforeseen circumstances and challenges, and similarly the bass guitar is constantly finding undiscovered lands & new martial arts maneuvers that startle in their sudden novelty.

But the most special thing about the bass guitar, to me, is its ability to envelop the listener's entire body in the comfort & pleasure of a good groove, bypassing our awkward surface differences, and uniting us in the experience of our shared humanity.

Happiness is a Bass Guitar

GW: What are examples of shows you may have seen or music you heard where the bass really stood out and moved you?

RM: When I was 16, I got a scholarship to attend the famous Interlochen Arts Academy for 8 amazing weeks.  My Uncle John, who had started me on the bass, had attended in the 1970's, and the entire family was excited for me to represent our continuing clan. Well, in a stroke of almost implausibly lucky timing, the International Society of Bassists (who held their semi-annual convention in a different world location each time) had selected Interlochen as the site of their epic gathering.  This meant that in addition to the incredible teachers & peers already there, midway through the term Edgar Meyer, Milt Hinton, and Eddie Gomez came for two weeks.  They led group classes, and I took part every chance I got.

I didn't learn a ton tho - my interests & background were pretty different from the average student there, and I was admittedly pretty bored and antsy.  However, at the end of the session, Edgar Meyer & his piano accompanist did a duo set in the smaller of Interlochen's state of the art concert halls.  And I tell you, as I sit here almost 30 years later with still-popping goosebumps, the music that came out of that bass that night... Edgar's bass soared, wept, hollar'd, whispered, danced, cried, joked, leaped and dove like a bungee jumper.  My entire body pulsed with excitement and bliss that I have been chasing ever since.

It was truly the most amazing music I have ever seen from the bass.  If you want a taste of what he sounded like then, check out his album "Works In Progress" from that year.  It's him & the same pianist I saw that night, doing mostly the same tunes.  Wild, emotional, daring stuff.  Who knows if I would have taken the path I have taken if I had missed that concert?  It was one of the two luckiest concerts I have ever attended.  The other one was...

Steve Kimock & Friends

Two years later, I was out of high school, and my band Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey had just released our first CD, 1995's "Live at the Lincoln Continental."  We wanted to tour, so we started reaching out to venues in our region, and soon we landed a Saturday night opening slot, at a jazz club in Kansas City called The Drum Room. Who were we opening for? 

"I dunno, some band from NYC.  Probably a bunch of square fusion wannabees.  We're gonna blow those New York assholes off the stage!  Yeah!"  There was a lot of bravado talk like that - the 7 of us were all between the ages of 18 (me) and 22 (Sean).  I remember walking into the room to load in and seeing Chris Wood for the first time.  MMW was sound checking.  "Hmmm," I thought.  "They're actually pretty good.  Ah well. We're still gonna destroy them."  Ah, the ignorance of youth.  Little did I know I was about to lose my musical virginity.

They finished checking, and I walked on stage and introduced myself to Chris.  He was super friendly & chill, and he offered me the use of his amp.  "Hahaha no thanks, I'll use mine," I answered, proud to show off what I thought of as my Signature Tone.  (Jesus, 18-year-olds are cocky!)  Well, at around 8:00 Jacob Fred took the stage, and we ran through our set of hyper, fast, dense, nervous, angry, odd-metered, dissonant attempts at what we thought was "funk."  MMW sat at a table in the front, stone-faced, and watched our entire set.  "Yeah," I thought, "how ya like THAT, new york?!?"  We finished up and left the stage, smug in our supposed triumph.  The audience dug us, and the MMW guys were soft-spoken but complimentary, and I felt like they meant it.

I am not sure how to begin to describe what happened next.  I liked hip-hop, but outside of the Beastie Boys I hadn't really thought of that as a style that was available to me.  I also liked free-jazz, but I thought of it as outrageous & novel.  Not as.......... Jeez, what can you say about it?  Jedi behavior.  Dark healing magic from the center of the earth.  Conjuring dragons and then slaying them.

Reed Mathis with Tea Leaf Green

The grooves were SO LARGE, so hypnotic.  Chris Wood stood center stage, towering above the room, with an upright bass that sounded so rich, so enormous, it was like standing on the ocean floor. He was playing 1 note for every 10 notes I would've played.  The simplicity, the confidence.......his playing was so evolved and masterful that it appeared to be silently mocking me, shattering my idea of what Bass is, what Bass is for, what Bass is capable of....honestly it was like an atomic bomb, telling me that my childhood was over, and it was time to become a man and put away childish things.  Chris & Medeski & Martin were so effective, so modern, so passionate, so mysterious..... I distinctly remember thinking "I'm seeing Hendrix in '67......I'm seeing Bird & Dizzy in '45, I'm seeing Coltrane & Elvin..."  It felt like witnessing history. They weren't "on fire," they were fire.

Later I learned that a couple of nights earlier, they had opened for Phish in Austin, TX, and sat in with Phish, and then Trey Anastasio had shown up at their MMW after-show and sat in for a whole set.

This avant-groove jazz trio, that had been playing for handfuls of art fans in tiny rooms like The Drum Room in Kansas City, had struck a gushing oil well, just a few dozen hours before we first saw them.  We (& the rest of the tiny audience that night) were witnessing the actual moment when this incomparable team of Master Musicians was pivoting on the Energetic Axis Point that would determine the rest of their career.  The fan base that would allow them to comfortably explore their premise for decades to come literally began that weekend.

The blast of light hit me full in the face and erased everything I thought I knew about human music.  I have spent the last 25 years exploring the remnants of that Big Bang.  Thank you, Chris Wood.  

Wed, 09/30/2020 - 3:31 pm

Possessing a voice as cool and crystalline as an Alpine stream, Natalie Cressman is a rising singer/songwriter and trombonist who draws inspiration from a vast array of deep and powerful musical currents. She released her 5th album in April 2019, this time in collaboration with Brazilian composer, guitarist and vocalist Ian Faquini. Drawing from impressionism, jazz, and the great Brazilian songwriting tradition, Setting Rays of Summer is a ten-track collection of original material featuring compositions in three different languages: Portuguese, English and French. With the warm instrumentation of acoustic guitar and trombone alongside two-part vocal harmonies hugging the Brazilian-accented Portuguese, Cressman & Faquini weave their musical voices together to create a fully orchestrated sound befitting a much larger ensemble.

Steadily evolving in many directions, the 29-year-old Cressman has already put down deep roots in several overlapping scenes. A prodigiously talented New York City-based trombonist, she’s spent the past ten years touring the jam band circuit as a horn player and vocalist with Phish's Trey Anastasio. Deeply versed in Latin jazz, post-bop, pop, and Brazilian music, Cressman can also be found collaborating with some of the most illustrious figures in rock, funk, jazz and beyond, which have included Phish, Big Gigantic, Carlos Santana, Escort, Wycliffe Gordon, Nicholas Payton, Anat Cohen, The Motet, and Umphrey's McGee. Grateful Web recently caught up with Natalie Cressman.

GW: What drew you to be a musician?

NC: I grew up following my parents to their gigs and watching them perform at a range of venues with a variety of musical groups, and what struck me from an early age was the joy and the sense of community in their music scene. It was evident that my parents were working hard, but equally clear that they were doing what they love. Couple that with the feeling of being on a team, collaborating and cross-pollinating ideas with like-minded creative people, and it really seemed like there was no better job out there. I feel like I got into music for all the less glamorous reasons, which is probably why I’ve been able to keep going despite any ups and downs, because at my core I’m just doing what I love to do.

GW: Why did you chose trombone?

Natalie Cressman | Photo by Phil Emma

NC: I heard some great trombone players growing up: first and foremost my dad, Jeff Cressman, who was my first inspiration, but other folks who mentored me in the SF Bay Area such as Wayne Wallace and Marty Weiner. To me it wasn’t a nerdy band instrument because I heard all of these guys rip exciting solos over Afro-Cuban grooves. I was riveted by how the trombone could be this raucous voice projecting over a hard-driving salsa band one minute and the sweet and haunting lament on a jazz ballad the next. To me it’s the instrument that most closely models the human voice, so there was this emotional pull to bring that expressiveness to the instrument wherever possible.

GW: Why do you think people crave music?

NC: I know that I reach for music when I’m happy, sad, and everything in between. It has the ability to heal, to soothe, and to provide an outlet for feelings that sometimes are difficult to put into words. So I think people crave that emotional release, and that music can also be a powerful form of memory, able to transport you back to a different time, be it the concert where you first heard the song or the feelings and memories surrounding the general time in your life when that music was around you. Experiencing a song or band for the first time can be so exciting, and re-experiencing it can be powerfully nostalgic as well.

GW: What makes live music so special?

NC: Live music is so special because it’s the most potent way to experience music, which to me is at its heart a universal language that cuts across all geographic and societal barriers. I think that’s partly why we feel this unifying effect of attending a concert or sharing music in a space with other people. At a live show you are experiencing something in the moment that will never be played exactly the same way ever again, and the people you share that experience with in effect become connected to you. It can feel downright magical, and often impossible to fully put into words.

GW: What was the most impactful concert you have seen and what made it so impactful?

NC: Seeing Stevie Wonder live had a deep impact on me musically and emotionally. There are some artists who embody the healing power of music so fully it just makes you weep. We were in Pensacola, Florida, and I had just finished a set with Trey Anastasio on the opposite side of the festival grounds, and I literally ran over to catch his set. His performance was mind-blowing, embodying sheer excellence across the band and dripping with musicality, but what really got me was when he cut off the band and started talking about his mom and how she came from nothing and how hard she worked just to survive in the Jim Crow South and he started crying, and I swear that the entire audience burst into tears with him. That emotional release was incredibly powerful, and it seemed like for one moment, everyone could see eye to eye, overwhelmed with love and sympathy. If we could only harness that unity, bottle it, and feed it to our world leaders, I think we could fix all of the world’s problems. And that’s why I truly feel music can be a healing force, a force for change, and is all the more inspiring to me for the good it can bring to the individual and to society as a whole.

Natalie Cressman | Photo by Philip Solomonson

GW: What song or album had the most profound effect on you, either personally or as a musician?

NC: Joni Mitchell’s Blue album really changed the way I think about songwriting. There’s a certain earnestness in the way she lays her emotions bare in the lyrics that I find really brave. The power of her vulnerability allows and invites the listener to also be vulnerable, to unpack emotions deeply tucked away, and either release them or have a safe place to experience them, with Joni’s voice as company. In this day and age the music business has become very flashy, and the emotions represented in popular music are generally on a much shallower spectrum, so the nakedness and depth of vulnerability on Blue really floored me and showed me a different path. Also, the way she musically expresses her pain and her sorrow to me is the pinnacle of pairing words perfectly to the music. I strive to bring that to my own songs and when I write lyrics for other composers. What I am saying has to not only fit but enhance the musical content. It doesn’t matter how poetic or smart a phrase is, it has to sound good and mesh perfectly in the context of the music or it’s not worth keeping.

GW: What do you hope to achieve with your music?

NC: I hope that the music I put out into the world can be a force of healing, that I can bring joy into people’s lives through what I express musically. I’ve always said that if I play a show and only 5 people come, but those 5 people are touched by the music, then I have nothing to be disappointed about. I’m not making music to appeal commercially or get to the top of the charts - unfortunately, with the type of songs I write and the style of music I create that’s a bit of a pipe dream - but I can say that I feel truly valued when I play a show and several members of the audience are moved to tears, which is starting to happen more and more. It means I’m helping people feel their emotions and be more introspective, which I truly think leads to better mental health and more empathy across humanity. I also hope to inspire girls and young women to write music and play trombone, and to help create a more inviting music scene for women to feel more welcome in.