Welcome back my friends, to the flamboyance that never ends, as Fabulously Flamboyant Friday proudly presents yet another of our light-loafered, lubed-up and luxuriant leaps over the pavilion-end puddles of musical magnificence.
Tonight, dear reader, as we respectfully mark World Carrot Day and International Pillow Fighting Day (I promise I don’t make these things up), we’ll take another foundation-shuddering look at the lower regions and examine the trouser-flapping abilities of some of my favourite slappers, pluckers and fingerers of the bottom end – all, of course, in the best possible taste. And so, without further ado, Fabulously Flamboyant Friday proudly presents yet more of the unsung heroes of rock ‘n’ pop, the rumble-meisters par excellence – bass players! Not arf!
Now I must admit, I approach this subject with no little trepidation. When I posted Part 1 of this missive, that particular article generated more flak, abuse and criticism than any other I have posted on this site. Who knew Friday Nights on Going Postal would be such a hotbed of bottom end aficionados?
Anyway, as a young ‘un, I, like many of my generation, was always in and out of local bands. It was a generational thing – everyone was in a band. If you weren’t in one, you wanted to be, and once you were in one, you immediately wanted to be in a better one – and most of us were in several at any given time. My weapon of choice was that most masturbatory of musical instruments, the electric guitar. I was, it has to be said, a guitarist of very limited technical ability and even less talent. My lack of talent was important because, as anyone who was part of a popular beat combo in the 60s and 70s will confirm, there was an absolutely unbreakable – but very pertinent – golden rule contained within the holy text of rock scripture:
“…and lo, when a gathering of brethren findeth not a skilled practitioner of the bass amongst their number, the one deemed most lowly in their midst shall be cast down and burdened with humble deeds…”
In other words, if you couldn’t find a competent bass player, the least talented guitarist in the band got lumbered with the dreaded 4-string thump. Being relegated to the bass did of course bring great shame upon you, your family and quite probably your ancestors as well. It wasn’t quite as bad as having a convicted nonce in the family, but it was pretty damn close.
Sadly, being a plankspanker of no small incompetence, I faced this humiliation with great regularity. But, to be quite honest, I really didn’t mind: I was still on stage, I was still having fun and I was still making music. Besides, playing bass was a doddle. I had to be reasonably compos mentis to play guitar, but I could be (and frequently was) completely wasted and still play bass. Only one finger required, no talent necessary, no experience needed. Any fool could do it, many fools did.
As noted in Part 1, I was perfectly content to continue with this shameful attitude and cheerfully proceeded to trundle along as a minimal effort “roots ‘n’ fifths” thumper. All was well until I was required to reproduce some of the wonderful work of James Jamerson and I quickly realised there was more – a lot more – to this bass playing malarkey than I had ever thought possible. Et voilà – the scales fell from my eyes and my bass playing journey began in earnest.
Part 1 of this series considered some of the musicians who directly impacted my playing style. In contrast, tonight’s article will simply examine (in no particular order) some of the magnificent bass players I have admired and enjoyed over the years. And to kick things off, we turn our attention to the truly wonderful Marcus Miller.
Marcus Miller is a New York lad who cut his teeth and polished his chops on the endlessly demanding New York City studio session circuit. He was soon battle-hardened and proceeded to gradually rise through the ranks to become a much admired, copied, and in-demand session pro. From there he became a Grammy Award winning composer, producer, musical director and multi-instrumentalist for the likes of Miles Davis, Luther Vandross, Michael Jackson, Beyoncé, Herbie Hancock, Mariah Carey, Eric Clapton, The Crusaders, Wayne Shorter, McCoy Tyner, Frank Sinatra, George Benson, Aretha Franklin, Elton John, Joe Walsh, Jean-Michel Jarre, Grover Washington Jr., Donald Fagen, Bill Withers, Chaka Khan, LL Cool J and many, many more – this was a chap in serious demand! He racked up appearances and contributions to well over 500 albums and was so-effortlessly winning his string of NARAS Most Valuable Player awards (given by the National Academy of Recording Arts & Sciences to recognize the contributions of studio musicians) that they eventually retired him from eligibility to give others a chance.
In the mid-1980s, Miller began his successful (and Grammy Award winning) solo career – one that continues to this day. Check out his 2007 album, M2, on which Miller plays bass, keyboards, sax, clarinet and vibraphones. It’s an absolute corker and an excellent entry point for anyone looking to explore the career of this tremendously talented thumper. Additionally – top tip for any Puffins looking to purchase a bass guitar – his range of active basses (i.e. instruments with built in pre-amps) that are currently produced by Sire are staggeringly good value for money, cheap to pick up second hand, play beautifully and allow you to reproduce the simply gorgeous bass tone Miller deploys on the video above.
Next up – Tony Levin. Another hard-boiled session pro. I first saw Tony Levin play on Peter Gabriel’s debut solo tour in the mid-to-late 1970s, about a year or so after his departure from Genesis. Gabriel was touring to support his first solo album and his live band included the truly wonderful Robert Fripp on guitar (who was introduced as Dusty Rhoads for some reason, possibly contractual) and the somewhat startling Tony Levin on bass.
Tony was wielding a bizarre-looking 12-string instrument (which I would later learn was a Chapman Stick) unlike anything I had seen before. However, two things very quickly became abundantly clear: firstly, whatever the heck he was playing, it sounded magnificent; and secondly, from the way he was spanking it and the thumptastic sounds it was producing, it was clear he was a very seriously talented bass player.
I was hugely impressed by his performance that night and have been a bit of a fanboi ever since. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one impressed with Mr. Levin’s contribution to that tour: he has remained in Peter Gabriel’s live band to this very day and has contributed bass parts to all of Gabriel’s studio albums, live albums, and many of his soundtrack albums; and Robert Fripp seems to have been equally impressed, as Tony has since played bass on a great many King Crimson albums and tours.
Tony is a hugely successful session musician, has provided bass parts for both Pink Floyd and Yes, was the first choice bass player for John McLaughlin’s utterly magnificent Mahavishnu Orchestra (I’d have loved to have seen John and Tony ripping it up, but sadly he had to decline the offer) and has enjoyed great success with a number of solo and side projects. The video below contains one of my favourite outings from his many musical collaborations: Liquid Tension Experiment, with Tony furiously spanking his Stick whilst sporting a very dashing and thoroughly Friday appropriate “Tom Selleck”.
And yet another battle hardened studio pro for our third musician this evening, this time from Mexico: Abe Laboriel (not to be confused with his nipper, Abe Laboriel Jr., who is a damn fine drummer).
Young Abraham first received classical training as a guitarist, but decided to switch to bass guitar while he was studying at the rather prestigious Berklee College of Music. Due to his spectacular prowess on the bass, he was apparently advised by Henry Mancini to move to Los Angeles to seek his fortune as a gun-for-hire bass ace. Abe promptly took his advice and legged it to California in the mid 1970s to pursue a recording career.
His breakthrough gig was a tour with Olivia Newton-John, which was quickly followed by a tour with Al Jarreau. After that, Abe had earned enough gold stars to open studio doors and he soon settled into a hugely successful full-time Los Angeles studio career. He has since spanked his plank on countless sessions and recordings including the work of artists such as Stevie Wonder, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Barbra Streisand, Billy Cobham, Chris Isaak, Al Jarreau, Paul Simon, Quincy Jones, Randy Crawford, Ray Charles, Jim Keltner, Phillip Bailey, Christopher Cross, Dolly Parton, Donald Fagen, Elton John, Engelbert Humperdinck, Freddie Hubbard, George Benson, Herb Alpert, Herbie Hancock, Lalo Schifrin, Larry Carlton, Leo Sayer and many more. As much as Marcus Miller was “da man” on the east coast, Abe Laboriel filled the equivalent position on the west coast and has enjoyed a very fine career indeed.
Right – that’s quite enough session musicians for the moment. Let’s turn our attention to a genuine prog rock superstar and a much-missed rumble-meister par excellence: Chris Squire, a founding member of the prog rock superstars, Yes. Chris was the only member of the band to play on every one of band’s 21 studio albums, from their eponymous debut in 1969 to 2014’s Heaven & Earth (released shortly before his untimely death in 2015).
Squire was a pick/plectrum player (a technique with which I was never comfortable) and his primary instrument was a gorgeous 1964 Rickenbacker RM1999 bass guitar. He played this notoriously aggressive and trebly-sounding bass throughout his career and developed a unique, slightly over-driven, but beautifully melodic sound that seemed to cut through any mix with ease. Squire credited John Entwistle for his “trebly bass thing” and his formal training as a choirboy for his melodic and harmonic approach to bass lines. Squire was of course the bass player on a run of magnificent prog rock albums (The Yes Album, Fragile, Close To The Edge, Tales From Topographic Oceans, Relayer) which, for many fans and critics, defined the concept of progressive rock every bit as much as the work of Robert Fripp and King Crimson.
Although I have honestly lost count of the number of times I saw this magnificent musician perform (and had the privilege of working with him on a few occasions), my two favourite Chris Squire performances came with Yes in 1976 and then, over 30 years later, with the Syn in 2007.
The former was on the Relayer tour, at the absolute peak of Yes’ progtastic seventies superstardom (they sold out the humongous JFK Stadium in Philadelphia that year with a record-breaking crowd of 130,000 punters). Squire and his rhythm partner, Alan White, were on blistering form during that tour and I was lucky enough to catch a few dates on the UK leg of their global jaunt. Squire’s performances were incredibly powerful, energetic and aggressive. He seemed to push the rest of the band along during those truly magnificent concerts, which remain, to this day, amongst the very best I have ever seen.
The Syn performance came in 2005 when Squire re-joined (for a short while) his pre-Yes group, The Syn, for the re-formed band’s debut performance at the Marquee Club in London. It was a tremendous show: intimate, low-key and in complete contrast to the Aida-like bombast of the ’76 tour. Nevertheless, that gig remains one of my absolute favourite memories of this tremendous and much-missed musician.
Time for a spot of double bass with the Granddaddy of Slap, Willie Dixon. He’s been called the poet laureate of the blues, the father of modern Chicago blues and (to paraphrase some Scouse git called Dr. Winston O’Boogie) if you had to give the modern bass another name, you might as well call it Willie Dixon, because every rock song ever composed bears his imprint. That might sound like hyperbole, but if you’re willin’ to get the beers in, I’m perfectly happy to spend the evening arguing that Willie’s influence on popular music almost is incalculable.
Born in Mississippi, Dixon moved to Chicago in the 1930s and set about becoming a battle-hardened professional bass player. He eventually landed a spot as a member of the legendary Chess Records staff in the 1950s and 60s and became a hugely successful composer, producer, arranger and, of course, a top notch session pro. Dixon worked with Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Litter Walter, and Sonny Boy Williamson, to name just a few, and composed some stone-cold classics including Hoochie Coochie Man, I Just Want to Make Love to You, Little Red Rooster, My Babe, Spoonful and You Can’t Judge a Book by the Cover. His songs have been covered by Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Little Walter, Bo Diddley, Cream, The Rolling Stones and many, many more.
Dixon was the bass player on the genre-defining rock ‘n’ roll tracks of Chuck Berry (if you’ve heard Johnny B Goode, Roll Over Beethoven or Maybellene, then you’ve heard Willie Dixon play) and he was an important link between the worlds of blues and rock and roll. He received a Grammy Award, was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Songwriters Hall of Fame – and not many have achieved that combination of awards – and he was also a tremendous slapper.
And finally for tonight, quite possibly my favourite bass player of all time: Colin Hodgkinson. Colin is a pretty unique bass player, with a seriously eclectic career that now spans six decades of jazz, blues and rock – and he’s still going strong. What makes Colin’s playing unique is the effortlessly musical left-hand chordal approach he takes to bass playing – an approach that makes him instantly identifiable as a player and almost impossible to imitate.
I first saw Hodgkinson perform with Back Door – the jazz trio he founded in the early 1970s. I had no idea who he was and was left absolutely gobsmacked by his astonishing performance that night. I became a hopeless devotee on the spot and my admiration for his playing has never diminished. I next saw him perform live when he provided the bass half of the staggeringly powerful rhythm section of David Coverdale’s Whitesnake. When he and his Whitesnake rhythm partner, the equally magnificent Cozy Powell, were in full flight, it truly was a thunderous musical wonder to behold. I last saw him play (now safely into his 80s) about 18 months ago, with his current band Ten Years After, and I’m very pleased to say he was still on absolutely top plankspanking form.
Anyway, I think that’s probably quite enough of my inane wittering for this evening, so I shall say TTFN to one and all. May all your pillows be tasty, your gardens inclined and your puddles well jumped.
Goodnight, and may your frog go with you – Not ‘arf!
Featured Image: Clausgroi, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
© Ivory Cutlery 2026
