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Start From Scratch and Yesterday’s Trash
Well in true ADHD fashion, something I’ve been doing for 35 years and I don’t know where to begin. So how about the beginning? For me it started with my dad’s baritone ukulele when I was about 8. He showed me how to strum without a pick using my index finger on the down stroke and thumb on the up stroke. (There’s a joke for the true funk soldiers in there, like I said in true ADHD fashion, IYKYK) then I picked up drums, some guitar (but it wasn’t really my thing) some saxophone in school band, and then Bass. SRV was what I was trying to get under my fingers when I got my first bass. So naturally I tried to strum his tune Mary Had a Little Lamb on the bass, as one does… Not! Then came drumset lessons from Dr. Al Gardner in college. He bombarded me with about a dozen drum rudiments my first week and they must not have been entertaining for my upstairs neighbor because I got a noise complaint working on them. So I put down my sticks and picked up my bass (unplugged to keep the peace) with the rudiments still in my head. With my right thumb slapping the open string E and my left middle finger hitting the fret board as a percussive mute, I started playing a paradiddle. Not trying to brag but what came out was a groove that gave me a bit of the ole stank face. Frankly, I dug it. Next we’re triplets. Those two served me well always having been a fan of slap bass. I was an ADHD kid who drummed on anything and everything available always and forever. My teachers hated it. I’d have to keep my mind occupied to concentrate during a test. It was automatic. When I would concentrate on something I’d drum on something. I couldn’t not do it. Like I had to throw the dogs a bone to keep them quiet so I could hear myself think. I think that’s why the bass stuck with me (or probably more accurately dug a trench in me). I could drum on the strings while thinking of what notes to play and it was allowed and although not ever really encouraged by anyone it satisfied something in me that couldn’t be ignored and had never been utilized in a beneficial way. So I put that monkey on my back to work.
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A place in space for the slap happy, the treble deficient, the down trodden with a sickness for the thump: Bass Guitar Players. Get in Loser!
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