Tag: philosophy

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The Bass

What does it mean to be the bass Bastard?

It means not gate keeping bass. I’m about upright Bass, electric bass, acoustic bass, upright electric bass, low brass, bass woodwinds, contra bass, synth bass, piano bass, keyboard bass, EDM bass, Perseus Cluster bass, bass drums, that huge log in the jungle you can pound for a bass, Taiko bass… All the Bass yet to be discovered and that ice missed here.

This means I’m about building the foundations of music. Blowing that gates off that the gatekeepers use to try and curate genre and style and show that the same foundation carries us all on this beautiful path to what we all consider music. Even bands I don’t like.

This is the beginning of the path to being a Bassbastard.

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T Time

I was threatened with death again.
Threatened with a visit from an old friend
He was as confused as was I
To be threatened with a friend stopping by

I was threatened with hell today
Filled with the memories of the places I’d play
Where at least the suffering was ordered and expected
And the quiet solitude of being left alone; neglected.

My visitor spoke of past visits we had
Small talk filling the space filled with air gone bad
Silver linings of the accidents finding a cure
The pain was cleansing of I could endure

We called up God and asked what made them irate
they said it was who made them that was filled with hate
They were dreamed up by us needing an excuse
for the shit that we did and all the abuse

We pretended that service was what we required
but in gods we created the reasons we desired
to be righteous in the depravity we sought
sold our souls for excuses and that’s what we bought

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Battle Scars

I walk with an emotional limp
Battle-scarred soul with shrapnel dug deep
Healing isn’t always clean
I have to decide which limbs I want to keep

Armored in deformations
Scaled in scorch marks that make me itch
reaching out with battered hands
I can see the way your eyes twitch

Look not upon me
the reflection in your eyes
Bear the burdened truth
It’s the intensity, not the size

Relative pain
born with burdens built in ladders
Relative pain
Per capita is the number that matters

The thief of joy
many faces from the dark
Comparison, what ifs, solipsisms
all leave their mark

Regret is the bleeding wound of yesterday’s battle
Carried through the threshold of today
Tomorrow is the friction of fiction
That keeps your action far away.

Living now to count the scars
not in memory, but proof of life
You made it this far mostly intact
So don’t be a victim of your mind’s knife