Chapter 9 Bass
NINE
Bass
With much grumbling, Smiley brought over a bass guitar and thrust it at Ryker. “You play?”
“From time to time.”
Ryker took the guitar by the neck. He checked it out, expecting to ask for a plug-in, but Smiley had brought him the guitar ready to go. As Ryker fluttered his fingers across the strings, he allowed his eyes to close and breathed in the rich vibrations of the instrument in his hands.
“I’ve got an electronic tuner around here somewhere,” Smiley offered.
“No need,” Ryker said. He fingered a string, listened, then twisted the corresponding tuner, and adjusted the pitch. Testing again, he was satisfied with the tone. He thumbed through the next three strings, making minor adjustments until he was satisfied the entire instrument was in tune.
“You’ve got a good ear,” Smiley said with surprise. “Not many can tune a guitar that fast, let alone using just their ears.”
“I’ve always had a good sense with sound,” he said, not bragging, but stating a fact.
“Rhythm?” Smiley’s question came with a direct challenge.
“I’ll let you be the judge.” He glanced up at T and fixed her in his stare as he coaxed out the beginning bass beat to Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water.”
All work halted in the hangar as airmen stopped to listen to the impromptu jam session.
It took a moment to settle in, but he loved music, and his muscle memory rushed back.
“Smoke on the Water” was an iconic piece of rock history and one of the first great riffs every boy who picked up a guitar learned.
He’d been no exception, but he felt a bit rusty and ran through only the first few stanzas before switching to a few of his favorites.
A bass riff wasn’t the first thing most people thought of when asked about their favorite songs. The majority of rock music centered on the lead guitar, not the bass, but there were a few bass riffs that served as the driving force of a song. He loved those the most.
It didn’t escape his notice that these first few moments were his unofficial audition.
He switched from Deep Purple and rolled right into one of his favorites from Rush. Geddy Lee wasn’t only the lead singer for Rush; he also played bass while singing and even hit the keys from time to time. Geddy had come up with a few intricate bass lines over the years. Ryker’s favorite was “YYZ.”
He slid into the first few riffs, losing himself to the deep reverberations of the music.
Again, he didn’t play the entire song but transitioned into one of Metallica’s classics—“Orion.” Cliff Burton, Metallica’s bassist, had done for bass guitar what Jimi Hendrix had done with the electric guitar—leading innovations from one song to the next.
Ryker laid down the instrumental from “Master of Puppets.” This riff took bass playing and stood it on its head, turning the underlying supporting role of the bassist to leading the melody line.
“Orion” might be one of his all-time favorites because it was one of the few songs a bassist could play and carry the entire song.
T stared at him—not him really, but at his fingers gripping the neck and fingering the strings.
Her exotic eyes went wide, and her mouth formed a tiny O of surprise.
He let the music fill the hangar and watched with fascination as the sound captivated and enraptured her soul.
Slowly, she clasped her hands, closed her eyes, and swayed on her feet.
The movements of her body followed those of his music.
He loved being the driving force behind even this small moment of happiness in her life.
Forest folded his arms across his chest, tucking his chin down, as his gaze settled over Ryker and the guitar slowly coming to life in his hands. Ryker continued to play, not yet scratching the surface of what he could do.
Red Hot Chili Peppers’ bassist, Flea, had a knack for melodic bass lines and a gift for adding his funky flare.
Ryker ran through several lines of “Give It Away” and “Suck My Kiss” before laying into “Californication.” The distorted bass was true genius, hitting the listener with a punch to the gut.
It was a fun track to play, and he went through several verses.
It was better with the overlying vocal melody, but each time the riff came around, it altered with subtle changes, making it more interesting to the ear and just plain fun to play.
“Shit,” Smiley said, “I don’t know if you’re playing the guitar or the guitar is playing you, but I can say for certain, you play like you’re fucking it. Raw. Powerful. Damn, what the hell are you doing in butt-fuck nowhere and not onstage?”
Ryker glanced up, happy to see the respect building in the crew boss’s eyes. “Wasn’t in the cards for me,” he said. “How about a little Who?”
Smiley jumped off the stage and leaned against it. “There’s nothing little about The Who. Lay it on me.”
John Entwistle, known as Thunderfingers from The Who, had treated the bass as if it were the lead instrument.
Playing any of their songs was a blast. Ryker launched into the bass solo from “My Generation,” a standard for bass playing that all up-and-coming bass players aspired to play with any skill.
“Fuck yeah!” Smiley’s eyes twinkled, and he lay down an accompanying beat with his hands, palming the hard floor of the stage. “You’ve got this!”
“The man can play.” Forest’s deep growl rumbled through the hangar, bringing the airmen at work closer to the stage.
Ryker glanced at the growing crowd. “How about a true classic?”
“Whatcha have in mind?” Forest asked.
He was going to have fun with this one. The intro and verses of the iconic classic rock band The Beatles were legendary.
He hit the first few notes of “Come Together.” Forest gave a nod of appreciation, and Smiley’s grin nearly split his face in two.
T’s eyes shimmered. As long as she was enjoying his playing, he would continue.
Smiley kept up his beat on his makeshift drum, and they played that one together all the way through.
As he wound that down, he glanced at T. A smile lit her face and brought an answering grin to his.
“Toss me out a song, T,” he called. “Give me one of your favorites.”
Her eyes widened, nearly popping with her surprise. “Oh, I don’t know. I barely know the songs I like, let alone their names.”
Forest’s eyes narrowed, and he piped up, “How about Floyd? Can you play ‘Money’?”
Could he? It’d taken some time to learn, and it was a brilliant piece of music. Roger Waters had created gold when he matched the bass riff with the coins and cash register sounds in the beginning of the song.
“I fucking love that song,” he said.
A difficult bass line, it was written in 7/4 time, but he’d conquered that challenge years ago.
He and Smiley ran through the gamut of the great rock songs, playing “Sweet Emotion” by Aerosmith and even hitting on Hendrix’s “Fire.” The airmen tasked with setting up the hangar grabbed seats and formed a loose semicircle around the front of the stage.
Ryker’s playing brought grins, smiles, laughs, hoots, and a generalized pump of energy to those gathered.
All they were missing was a lead guitar, a keyboard, and a real set of drums. For himself, the music carried him away, taking his worries and concerns and pushing them to the fringes of his thoughts for a sliver of time.
It was him, the music, and memories of an elusive dream he’d long since given up.
Feeling emboldened, he launched into one of Angel Fire’s top hits.
The bass riffs of “Heart’s Insanity” vibrated through the hangar.
A few seconds later, a haunting guitar melody picked up mid-verse, coming in with perfect timing.
Ryker glanced up, his brows drawing together, but he couldn’t see where the music was coming from.
And then it began; the beat dropped on the drums. Not Smiley’s palms thudding on the stage floor, but the deep, throbbing power of the drum kit.
He turned toward the stage, his mouth agape, as Angel Fire’s lead vocalist sauntered to the edge of the stage, guitar slung over his neck, fingers picking out the notes.
With a cocky grin, Blaze joined Ryker in the song.
Blazing green eyes gave a wink while the song came to life.
Dressed in worn-out jeans and a simple black T-shirt, Blaze stood over Ryker while his gaze cut out over the small crowd.
Ryker held down the bass riff while Blaze took over the lead of the song and circled them back to the beginning. He let the intro play out and then belted out the beginning lyrics of Angel Fire’s hit song.
Ryker’s fingers never once stopped or faltered even though he’d been stunned into speechless awe.
The part came for harmonizing, and Blaze arched a brow, silently asking Ryker if he was brave enough to jump in with vocals.
He needed no encouragement, took in a breath, and belted out the lines, melding his voice with a rock legend.
The moment demanded no hesitation, and he was going to live every second as if it were his last.
Ryker could hardly believe he was not only jamming with the band of Angel Fire, but also adding his vocals to their latest hit. He wanted to pinch himself, thinking it had to be a dream. At least, until he glanced at T.
Her attention had been fixed on him while he played, but with the arrival of the band, her eyes strayed to the men onstage.