If you don't feel like reading all of it, let me just give you a quick version of it: Bass go boom, break apart.
Now for the update:
We consulted with many bass playing friends of ours on the probability our beautiful bass would play again. Enter Lemur Music. They were recommended to us by a host of bass players, musicians, luthiers, a magic 8 ball, and Zaboomafoo.
When I walked through the doors with the crippled remains of my once upright stage partner, I looked around and saw so many other basses with missing necks, warped bridges, and who knows what else. At least my pile of wire and wood was in good company.
From the back room came Tristan, the wonderful wizard of bass. He was more than up for the challenge, and I left the scattered remains of my bass on his table. I handed him the neck which had been severed in one swift jagged snap. I showed him the giant, splintered cracks on the front, which I'm not sure if it was my imagination or not, but they seemed longer and more severe, reaching from the top, alongside the fingerboard, and stopping just shy of the sound hole. The strings were still attached to the head, and the dangling tailpiece added to the chaos as I handed him the last piece: the bridge.
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| It honestly looked worse than I remembered when I pulled it from its case that day. |
His job was not an easy one. Even though re-attaching a neck with a dowel was simply routine to him, repairing the cracks on its face would be impossible without taking the face completely off. He knew he could add a different bridge and he planned to keep the same set of strings on it.
But then came the wait. It was in Tristan's care for a little over a week, getting put back together. We had already been without it since August, what was one or two more weeks? Every so often, Tristan would drop a phone call, updating us on his progress. At long last, it was time for Tristan's big reveal!
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| Tristan reveals his handiwork, reuniting me with my ol pal, while a host of other people's basses look on. |
Once again, my bass stood upright, intact, with a brand new (and adjustable) bridge, and sounding better than ever. Tristan put my ol friend back in my hands, and it was like picking up right where we left off, only this time, the bass was better than I was. The only hint as to its former state was the almost imperceptible scars on its face and neck. They're really only visible if you're standing right there in it's personal space. For injuries as severe as it had, that's basically a miracle.
You know what? I really like those scars. Not only do they give the bass personality, it serves as a reminder that even though it was severely injured, it was not irreparably broken.
Everywhere I play, I'll always see those scars, telling a really awesome story about the amazing comeback it made at the hands of Tristan from Lemur music.
First thing I did when I got home, was to pull up some of my favorite Ricky Skaggs recordings and jam away. The first was the blazing "Little Maggie" from his live album with Bruce Hornsby. Then it was "Uncle Pen" from his Don't Cheat in our Hometown album. After that, we jammed to "Highway 40 Blues" from Live in London. Then it was "Rawhide", then "Bluegrass Breakdown", then "Honey Open That Door", and on and on we went as my bass patiently waited for me to get back in the swing of things.
I am excited to get back into performing with my ol pal. For the first time since the tragic accident, the bass and I are returning to the stage on July 14th in Hollywood. It will feel so good to welcome it back!
Incidentally, I've never been in the habit of naming my instruments (because I usually forget their names), but I think it only appropriate my bass gets a permanent name. So what should I name it? Let me know!
