Mick Karn's tragic passing triggers a bass vent.

So I have no idea how to attempt to verbiate this train of thought, which is being expelled on a bus, which makes the word "train" seem a bit weird, but here is the gist, based on my unfortunate discovery that Mick Karn has departed this crazy world.















Musical instruments and the people that master them are by far the most revered people in my life. To take an object and give it the ability to express the things that words, expression, movement and feel—considered as separates—cannot, define my idea of brilliance.

I know many, many people that do this in all manner of disciplines, from writing, performing and understanding, to knowing and even building things, shit, stuff. They all are the very reason I even attempt anything artistically or try to place myself amongst them.

I know I do not have this ability, the words "should concentrate and focus at the task at hand" have adorned the report cards of my life so far with breath-taking recurrence. Because of my lack of focus in any one area, I am fairly good at a number of things but tend to taper off when confronted with the talents of my friends who dedicate more of their time that is probably really allowable in the real world, to become utter maestro's.

See, I do not have the ability to simply adopt one particular thing to my creative muse and this will always be my failure, curse, and, strangely, my success.

But I was violently reminded of this today when I learnt that Mick Karn, best known for his bass playing skills that made the band Japan (yes, OK, think "80's" and SUCK IT UP!) so awesome, died on January 4th of Cancer. Only fifty something.

Mick Karn, much like Kia Eckhardt, Jaco Pastorius, Gary Willis and Pawl Andersen, to name but a few, defy science with how they can simply breathe music through the bass guitar in their hands, cannot only hold a tune together, but can direct it's feel and mood with the notes and timing that they alone choose.

Let me extrapolate my uneducated thoughts.

The bass guitar.

Coupled with the drums, the bass simply defines almost any piece of contemporary music. Really, any music. Even if you have no concept of the complexities of the organization of musical pieces, everyone knows when the bass is AWESOME.

I frequent the Franklin Pub's Blues Jam on Wednesdays, whenever my schedule allows, and despite the drummers and the bass players diligently banging out the bed, it's the guitarists tend to take the lime light. Not for me though. If a song works, I can guarantee it's due to the gelling of the bass player and the drummer and not the 32 bar dueling guitar solos (respect).

Anyway, I am digressing a bit, but this subject runs very deep in my heart. The joy I get from hearing Japan's Sons of Pioneers never ends. That song alone is why I am so sad about Mick's passing. In this trace, his bass becomes more than the melody. The phrase, in all it's complexity, takes almost the entire song for you to reckon with it, to understand the nuances and the incredible beauty and mastery required to play such a thing.

Oh, Mick, your artistic brilliance will be forever remembered.