Jackson Five
Laser precision meets wild abandon: Five iconic performances from bass guitar legend Anthony Jackson.
Back in March I spent some time in the studio, playing bass for an upcoming album (for more, see my April newsletter, where I talked about the process in detail). If nothing else, that was a learning experience and continues to be so, especially so now that we’re listening to mixes of the tunes we recorded. It’s a nerve-wracking experience, really, going back and reviewing everyone’s work, your own especially, knowing that we’re past the point of take-backs – those notes and performances will live forever, for better or worse.
As a result, lately I’ve been reflecting on since March is that razor thin line between performing accurately and playing with full creative abandon. To my mind, nobody finds a balance between professional precision and unshackled freedom like bassist Anthony Jackson. A mainstay of the 1970s and 80s New York City studio scene, Jackson earned his stripes playing with some of the biggest names of R&B and soul scenes of the time, while also developing a sterling reputation among the upper echelons of jazz. Jackson’s reputation earned him first-call status and the list of songs and albums he appears on is a veritable who’s who of the biggest singers of those mostly bygone eras.
So, a week or so after Jackson recently celebrated his 73rd birthday, here’s a rundown of five of my favorite bass performances from the maestro, showcasing his uncanny ability to taste, uncanny, and raw musical power that makes him a giant of his field.
A House is Not a Home – Luther Vandross
I remember discovering this song from a long write-up on the now-defunct gossip Web site Gawker, of all places. The piece was an ode to Luther Vandross’ incredible voice and tender performance here as well as the song’s complex harmony courtesy of songwriter Burt Bacharach. But it’s that low, low bass guitar (dig those low C’s in the song’s unforgettable introduction) that grabbed my attention. Unlike many of the songs found elsewhere in this list and indeed in Jackson’s discography, there’s no flash here, no sequences that boggle the mind with his dexterity or awe-inspiring fills. Instead, Jackson lays back and lets the song’s wonderous harmony and Luther’s stellar performance elevate into something unforgettable. Jackson’s laid-back composed line in the outro (beginning at the 5:11 mark) mirrors the rhythms of the intro, only now recontextualized with Bacharach’s harmonic twist to bring the song to a bittersweet close. It is certainly among the “easiest” song to perform in Jackson’s catalog but, due to his restraint and incomparable taste, it’s all the more a masterpiece.
What Cha’ Gonna Do For Me – Chaka Khan
Not the first song we’ll see from Jackson and Ms. Khan on this list and for good reason. “What Cha’ Gonna Do For Me” is vintage Anthony Jackson, a bass line with a simple core that blossoms under closer inspection; full of sly fills, rhythmic invention, and a determination to rarely if ever repeat itself. Near the song’s end, when he lets loose with a long string of descending sixteenth notes that brazenly crosses bar lines, as if to say, “No sir, I still have more to say,” all you can do is simply make a face, nod your head, and agree. Yes Mr. Jackson, you’re absolutely right.
Borderline – Madonna
I had no idea that Jackson was doubling the synth bass to this 1983 Madonna hit until quite recently. As is so often with Jackson basslines, it melodic and memorable, performed with his unparalleled rhythmic confidence. And if it doesn’t include his trademark head-turning fills – he played it fairly straight throughout, aiming to simply keep in sync with the synth line – it’s still full of surprising harmonic choices that support the song’s main hook, while leaving plenty of room for the other instruments to be appreciated. In the 1980s and 90s, Jackson kept a column in Bass Player magazine where he would regularly rant and rave in entertaining (and often overwritten) fashion about the foibles of producers and songwriters of the day, who were intent on pushing out “real” instruments and their players in favor of drum machines and synth bass lines. Though “Borderline” is guilty here; featuring a completely vanilla robotic drum line, it’s great to hear Jackson making his musical case for what can be done when a “real” player comes in and shows the synths how to do it. I suppose the only question is: Did he actually write the bassline or did he merely double what was already there? I know what my guess is…
Heed the Warning – Chaka Khan
A definitive Jackson masterpiece. The formula is simple: an insistent four-on-the-floor rhythm from drummer Steve Ferrone, a tuned down four string bass (not the Jackson-developed six-string contrabass with which he would later become synonymous with), and Jackson’s secret weapon: the pick. Outside of rock music, pick bassists weren’t as common, especially in the R&B and soul scenes of the 70s and 80s. Yet Jackson uses wields with precision, lending his sound a gigantic presence and cutting precision that adds just the right amount of aggression and edge the song demands. The core of the line is fairly straightforward – a syncopated sixteenth note figure that accentuates the pulsating linear synth line. But as always with Jackson, it’s the flourishes and rhythmic embellishments, the delays, rhythmic displacements, and notes that hang on for a half a beat longer than you expect, that make this such a beguiling and masterful performance.
(I included the above video, a cover version of “Heed the Warning” by the extraordinary bassist Charles Nagtzaam, because it expertly shows off the precision and dexterity Jackson used to perform this song. Sure, it should be enough to enjoy a musical performance for its sound alone but, in this case, I think it’s just as impressive to see how it’s done!)
Glamour Profession -- Steely Dan
I’m actually surprised that Jackson isn’t all over more Steely Dan tunes. With easy access to the first-call studio cats of the time – from Chuck Rainey to Tom Barney –Donald Fagen and Walter Becker could pick from the best of the best. This seven-and-a-half-minute masterpiece from the Dan’s 1980 album “Gaucho” makes perhaps the strongest case of any that Jackson belonged in such esteemed company. There’s little in the way of flash here, nothing that couldn’t be played by even an intermediate student of the instrument but, as is often the case with Jackson’s lines, there’s a difference between being able to perform them, and coming up with them in the studio, often in a single take or two. Steely Dan’s songs are harmonically complex and Jackson not only navigates the harmony with ease but still manages to add his own rhythmic signature throughout. Those staccato quarter notes, staying silent on “the one” – all are Jackson trademarks that bassists have ripped off throughout the years (myself included!), doing our best to sound like the maestro himself.
Is it any wonder that Glamour Profession ends on a two-minute fadeout, allowing Jackson and the band to stretch their musical legs a bit, to mix things up a bit with the outro guitar solo, without letting up on the slinky groove for a moment. After all, who in their right mind is going to tell Anthony Jackson to stop playing?