These Used To Be Called LPs
by Justin Petrin
I always thought that the bass guitar was purely a supporting instrument in modern music — it played the roots and fifths of chord progressions, kept a simple steady rhythm, and that was about it. However, Marcus Miller’s 2012 Renaissance album (quite appropriately named) completely uprooted the notion which had fostered my limited perspective of bass guitar. From the first track of the album, I was absolutely HOOKED on his playing style. He incorporated a multitude of challenging techniques in his playing — slapping, popping, the use of dyads and triads, slides, hammer-ons and pull-offs — which along with his unique tone and dynamic control, allowed him to effortlessly combine jazz and funk genres with contemporary forms of music.
American jazz composer & record producer, Marcus Miller
It wasn’t a huge surprise when I learned that Marcus Miller played with Miles Davis’ band in the 1980s, a place where adaptability and versatility were valued to the same degree as technical proficiency, if not more so. While Miller was so adept at traversing the different genres, he kept a tone which was recognizable to even the most untrained of ears. But at his level of expertise, tone wasn’t just the outcome of pricey instruments or some classic equipment — it came from his fingers, the linking conduit between emotions and performance.
Miles Davis
Marcus Miller
Two songs on the album that showcase these ideas of musical mastery are "February" and "Tightrope". The former is a jazz ballad with percussive elements typical of South American and Brazilian grooves, whereas the latter is an upbeat R&B/funk cover that replaces the original vocal melody with the alto sax. The two pieces are quite different, yet the underlying themes and intensity that are present throughout the album are as defined here as anywhere through the thirteen-song collection. Miller’s biggest strength is in his ability to fluidly transition from strict rhythm master to lead soloist at a whim. Dedicated sections of virtuosity are not as important in his more experimental performances, but the nuanced pieces of instrumentation are profound when deliberately employed, even if they don’t demand your attention.
If you don’t have the time to compare these compositions, just listen to the first track called Detroit. Chances are that you’ve actually heard this groove before — and if not — you’ll at least think you've heard it before, simply because it’s such a catchy riff. It’s along the lines of something you’d hear at a fancy wedding reception, or maybe even an high-stakes card-playing club — but this cool groove is something that’s available to everyone. Just for a few minutes, you can turn up the volume, close your eyes, and immerse yourself in the movements of the music.
When I first heard Renaissance, I had barely started to explore music outside of 70s rock, but I’m glad that I decided to check this album out. It seems to me that it covers such a broad stylistic range, so you’ll probably find something that you’ll enjoy. From personal experience, I can attest that while it’s difficult to venture out of your auditory comfort zone, some of the discoveries you make — perhaps even this one —will be well worth the risk.
A note from These Used to be Called LPs columnist, Justin Petrin:
We sometimes don't know the limitations we impose on ourselves, and this is especially true with respect to our musical preferences. Why change if you're happy? However, I've certainly been a culprit of auditory hesitation. This column dives into albums that were outside of my comfort zone when I first heard them, and it looks at the experience I would've missed out on had I simply pressed "Skip". Through a couple of paragraphs, I reflect on why these albums are still some of my favourites to this day — and I encourage you to give them a listen as well.
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