When I was 12 years old, I was a drummer in my middle school band. Unfortunately, I wasn’t very good.

In the beginning of 7th grade, my band instructor pulled me aside at the cafeteria while I was eating lunch. He said, “Brian, I want to ask you something. I want you to change instruments. Do you want to play electric bass?” I had no idea what that was. I said as much.

“Well, it’s kind of like electric guitar,” as he pantomimed holding an electric guitar and shredding. I was intrigued. I said OK, and the rest was history.

By age 14, I was obsessed with bass. I played every single day, for hours a day. It was all I did. By the time I was 17, I could emulate my favorite bassists of the day; Flea, Vic Wooten, Michael Manring, Les Claypool. I was in a garage band. I was having a blast.

I was never able to afford my own instrument, though; I always had to make do with the borrowed Peavey or Fender Jazz from school. Finally, when I was 17, I bought my first bass: An Ibanez 4-string fretless bass. I had been heavily inspired by the haunting sounds of Pearl Jam’s Jeff Ament, and by Les Claypool of Primus; in order to emulate those players I opted to buy a fretless model, which is an odd choice for a first instrument. I had no regrets. For the last two years of high school band I had been playing an upright double bass anyways, so I was used to fretless playing, and I liked the totally otherworldly sounds you could get from such a beast.

I was in love. If you’re a musician, buying your first instrument is the same thing as buying your first car. You’re enraptured and no matter how “crappy” it is, you think it’s the greatest thing in the world. My Ibanez was a low-end model, but it wasn’t cheap or crappy. It was freaking amazing.

When I graduated from high school, I of course had to return the Fender Jazz that I had grown accustomed to; but it was okay because I had my Ibanez. For my graduation gift, my dad bought me a second bass—an Ibanez SR-305 5-string. This one had frets, it had five strings, and it was delightful.

Life Happens

Ahh, early adulthood. I got a very early start; I skipped out of college to pursue self-employment, I got married at age 20 and had a baby and then another baby at age 22. When my then-wife and I found out we were going to have our first child, I sold my beloved Ibanez fretless to help defray some of the exorbitant medical costs. It was like selling a part of my soul. I bought a house, grew my business, bought another house, did all kinds of things. Started Short-Media.com, met some friends, re-launched Icrontic… you know, life.

Unfortunately, as life happens, sometimes hobbies from childhood have to fall to the wayside. For me, that hobby just happened to be playing bass. My amp was shot and I needed a new one, but buying an amp was out of the question as we had other, more important financial obligations. It’s hard to practice or jam at home with two kids. With a small house, there’s no room. It was always some excuse, some other thing to do, something more important.

I don’t mean to make it sound like I hung up my bass for good. It was always lurking in some corner or another. I would pull out my fiver once in a while, doodle, make sure I still had chops. A couple of friends and I actually started to form a jam band back in the early 2000s, but it didn’t last long. At least I didn’t get rusty.

Years went by and I found other things to occupy my time.

The fire gets lit

In February of 2004, something happened to light the fire under my bass-playing ass. I inherited a most beautiful instrument—the kind of thing I would never ever be able to afford on my own. I received on a “long-term loan” basis a custom-built, solid wood, neck-through-body Aria Pro six string bass. Receiving it made me feel guilty that I had let life get in the way of a passion. It made me feel renewed, and I jumped back into playing with verve and abandon. I got together with some friends, started a jam band, and had a grand old time. We even entertained ideas of gigging. My dear friend Mondi got me a digital bass effects pedal for my birthday that year, and I really started to get into the whole thing.

Then, of course, 2005 happened. 2005 was the beginning of a 5-year-long spiral of despair, depression, and personal tragedy. My wife left me, my business fell apart, I became unhealthy, I lost a lot of things. I stopped caring about anything other than the bare minimum. I raised my kids, I tried to keep Icrontic going, I tried to stay afloat. Everything else went onto the backburner, including bass playing. The Ibanez and the Aria Pro went into bags, into the basement, and began to gather dust.

In 2010, things turned around for me. I met a wonderful woman who helped me steer things back on track, I got a good-paying full-time job, and I started to put the pieces back together

The Music Man

So, let’s go back to the beginning for a brief moment. I mentioned earlier that one of my main influences was Flea, the bassist from the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He, in essence, taught me how to play. When I was 14, I sat down every single day with my Walkman and my cassette tape of BloodSugarSexMagick. I literally played until my fingers bled. I had blisters, I developed callouses, and I wore out the tape. I bought another one and I kept going. I didn’t stop until I could play every note on that album. It was quite an education.

Flea played an Ernie Ball Music Man Stingray during that era. I loved it, and it was the sound I always wanted to emulate. Of course, those basses started at $1000, an astronomical sum to a teenager. I put it out of my head and never looked back. But I have to say, the idea of owning a Stingray never really died. I liked the look, I liked the sound, and I liked the feel (I always had a chance to mess around with them at guitar stores over the years.)

Since I met my wonderful girlfriend, Nicole, I have always told her that I am a bass player at heart, and that music is my passion and my dream. This must seem odd to her, since she’s never actually heard me play bass, and she’s probably only seen me actually pick up an instrument a handful of times.

The dream hasn’t died though. Not by a longshot.

I don’t know what it was recently. Perhaps I’m finally letting the last vestiges of the stress from the last five years fade away. Perhaps she has inspired me. Perhaps my son’s budding musical journey has inspired me (he’s been writing ditties on the piano lately,) but something, something sparked my musical engine.

The other day I visited Music Man’s website and started looking at Stingrays. I’ve decided that while having a beautiful 5-string and an epic 6-string around are quite the treat, the tightness of a 4-string and the more focused possibilities it offers are enticing me more and more. I decided that I would start socking away a few bucks every month until I could buy the bass of my dreams. It may take a year, it may take two years, whatever… But I will own a Music Man.

I started visiting local shops again. I went to my old local indie stand-by, Huber and Breese. I took my Ibanez to get it re-strung and set up again, and while I was there dropping it off I started doodling on a few basses. I realized that the Stingray is actually kind of heavy; it’s kind of old-fashioned looking; it’s kind of not my style. Maybe I’ve grown up a bit, or maybe I just want something wacky and weird to fit my personality.

I started researching more basses by Music Man, and found their Bongo line, which came out in 2004. Now here was something that electrified me; a weird looking bass with very modern design and very versatile electronics. I started doing a lot of reading and research on the Bongos. A stage tech had mentioned to the bass player in a band, “The Bongo is the most musical bass you’ve ever played, man.” That did it, that’s what I was looking for.

I posted a query on a huge bass player forum and got lots of positive responses. People who owned them loved them, and everybody kept talking about the versatility and range of possible tones. The dual humbuckers and 4-band active pre-amp, the unique satin neck finish, the 24 frets with the unique cutaway for access to the highest notes. It’s like Wayne said: You will be mine.

So I called the music store today. These babies are about $1500 and must be special ordered. They take a couple of months to arrive. That’s fine. I’ll bide my time. I’ll sock away a few bucks every paycheck until I can go in there with cash, plunk it down, and finally be able to buy my dream bass.

In the meantime

Of course, I don’t need a new bass. I have two healthy and beautiful instruments, but nobody to play with and nothing to do. So I decided, I’m going to start jamming with my son. I decided I want to be able to record as well. Recently, at Icrontic New Years 2011, DJ Meph came by with some of his gear and we had a bit of a jam session with Myrmidon. Being that I hadn’t picked up a bass in several years, and we had never played together before, it pretty much sucked, but it was invigorating and inspiring. I want to play so badly. I want to make music and record it and share it with my friends. Now that I have a high-powered mobile workstation, all I needed was a way to plug my bass into my EliteBook. So for the last couple of days I’ve been researching PC audio interfaces, and finally settled on a Focusrite Saffire. This is an 8-in, 6-out Firewire recording interface that comes bundled with Ableton Live Lite. I am going to plug this stuff together and start playing again.

When I’m on my deathbed, I don’t want to have any regrets. I don’t want to look back on my life and say, “I wish I had followed my dreams and played music.” I feel like passion can drive anything. Yes, I have a very busy life. I have a busy job, two kids to raise, a wonderful partner, a couple of websites to run, and two roommates in addition to all my other goings-on. There is always something to distract me, but none of that matters. When I reach down deep into my soul, there is music. It needs out.