Don’t worry, nobody died. I’m only mourning a chapter of my life.
I’m 51 and, let’s say, I’ve known for a while that I wouldn’t have any kind of musical career after all. Not that I was ever destined to it, but I’ve been involved in music one way or another since childhood and later, in my 20s and 30s, I’ve played bass in a few bands, one of which I always thought had real potential, at least for the local scene. But the band ended up imploding for different personal issues. (Drummer’s wife got cancer and he quit music to support her; guitar player stopped taking his bipolar meds and went full bipolar; singer hooked up with a wannabe American producer who wanted her to himself and wedged her out of the band...) They were all fantastic and creative musicians though, and I could never gather as great a band afterward.
For the last decade or so, I’ve partnered on and off with a friend who’s an accomplished songwriter and musician (guitar, keyboard and cello!). But it’s not going anywhere and whenevver we start something together, she always has good reasons not to meet and rehearse. I’ve also been looking around for other musicians to try and start what could simply be an old geezers' garage band: just for the fun of doing covers and jamming. I’d actually be really happy with that! But people my age are all very busy with their careers, families, going camping, bills, house maintenance, etc. So am I, and it is normal. But it makes it hard to get a commitment to any artistic project.
Before I go further, please don’t think that I’m expressing depression here. Getting older is mourning many of the personas that you could have become and I’m quite Zen about that. Getting older is also assuming your life choices. And, past a certain age, it’s learning to let go of little pieces of your former self.
Especially in my case, it’s not like I’ve ever invested all my energy and focus into becoming an accomplished musician, but then was somehow cheated out of it. Not at all! I am moderately talented, I’m hardworking but not obsessed enough to become a virtuoso or anything. At the most, I could have lucked out within a great band. But I didn’t: that’s life. Fair enough.
Yet sometimes, no matter how much you rationalize it, you can’t brush away the mourning phase so easily…
So, what exactly am I mourning today?
I’ve been thinking of selling my gig amp and cabs lately. The kit has been gathering dust and taking up a lot of space uselessly in one of my closets for a good decade. I simply don’t think I will ever have an occasion to play it again. It’s way too loud and bulky to play at my place, where I usually play with headphones anyway (to avoid a divorce) or quietly on my Bassman 10 combo. And anywhere I might ever gig again will probably be a small place with a PA system.
But to get back to the mourning theme… That amp, if and when I sell it, is a part of my life that I’ll be saying goodbye to.
I remember vividly the day I got the kit. I was with a band and we started renting a rehearsal space, but had to furnish our own equipment. Plus, we had started booking gigs at larger venues where we needed our own stage amplification. It was a thrilling time! From there, I went on to form the other band (the one that I mentioned earlier that had potential) and we would play in all sorts of crazy venues. More thrills! At the time, I was really invested in music and would rehearse constantly. (I even nearly abandoned my master’s degree at university because all I did was play music!)
All in all, musically speaking, those were the best years of my life! And I was really excited when I drove to buy that amp kit.
I had begun searching for a nice kit and completely lucked out on a local add. The seller was a bass player and, professionally, a sound engineer, who had taken great care of the gear. And I fell in love with his amp the moment I started reading about it:
- Seymour Duncan Bass 400 amp head.
He sold it as a package with 2 cabs:
-an Ampeg 15” cab that he had re-coned himself (super professionally!)
-and a Hartke Transporter 4x10”
I bought the whole kit for $700CAD (circa 2005).
That's the kit that is still in my closet today.
I still love that amp! It can take a beating, it is loud as hell (it can go up to 600 watts at 2 ohms!) and it’s especially able to give a clinically neutral tone, as well as boasting a 7 band EQ! Given that I played a lot at home and recorded on a sound card, I was completely happy with a stage amp that didn’t overly color the sound that I had crafted from my basses and pedal board.
I also remember, when I went over to the guy’s house to buy it, how he seemed at once super proud to sell me that great piece of equipment that he’d nurtured for all those years, while sad to let it go. He did tell me that the reason for the sale was that his «gigging days were over», and that he simply couldn’t rationally justify holding onto it anymore. I almost felt guilty taking it away from him at the time…
I haven’t completely decided to sell it yet, but it seems inevitable at this point. And I’m mourning for what it has meant to me.
I do hope, at least, that when I do decide to sell, I’ll meet an enthusiastic young bass player full of dreams for this great kit.
Thanks for reading.
I’m 51 and, let’s say, I’ve known for a while that I wouldn’t have any kind of musical career after all. Not that I was ever destined to it, but I’ve been involved in music one way or another since childhood and later, in my 20s and 30s, I’ve played bass in a few bands, one of which I always thought had real potential, at least for the local scene. But the band ended up imploding for different personal issues. (Drummer’s wife got cancer and he quit music to support her; guitar player stopped taking his bipolar meds and went full bipolar; singer hooked up with a wannabe American producer who wanted her to himself and wedged her out of the band...) They were all fantastic and creative musicians though, and I could never gather as great a band afterward.
For the last decade or so, I’ve partnered on and off with a friend who’s an accomplished songwriter and musician (guitar, keyboard and cello!). But it’s not going anywhere and whenevver we start something together, she always has good reasons not to meet and rehearse. I’ve also been looking around for other musicians to try and start what could simply be an old geezers' garage band: just for the fun of doing covers and jamming. I’d actually be really happy with that! But people my age are all very busy with their careers, families, going camping, bills, house maintenance, etc. So am I, and it is normal. But it makes it hard to get a commitment to any artistic project.
Before I go further, please don’t think that I’m expressing depression here. Getting older is mourning many of the personas that you could have become and I’m quite Zen about that. Getting older is also assuming your life choices. And, past a certain age, it’s learning to let go of little pieces of your former self.
Especially in my case, it’s not like I’ve ever invested all my energy and focus into becoming an accomplished musician, but then was somehow cheated out of it. Not at all! I am moderately talented, I’m hardworking but not obsessed enough to become a virtuoso or anything. At the most, I could have lucked out within a great band. But I didn’t: that’s life. Fair enough.
Yet sometimes, no matter how much you rationalize it, you can’t brush away the mourning phase so easily…
So, what exactly am I mourning today?
I’ve been thinking of selling my gig amp and cabs lately. The kit has been gathering dust and taking up a lot of space uselessly in one of my closets for a good decade. I simply don’t think I will ever have an occasion to play it again. It’s way too loud and bulky to play at my place, where I usually play with headphones anyway (to avoid a divorce) or quietly on my Bassman 10 combo. And anywhere I might ever gig again will probably be a small place with a PA system.
But to get back to the mourning theme… That amp, if and when I sell it, is a part of my life that I’ll be saying goodbye to.
I remember vividly the day I got the kit. I was with a band and we started renting a rehearsal space, but had to furnish our own equipment. Plus, we had started booking gigs at larger venues where we needed our own stage amplification. It was a thrilling time! From there, I went on to form the other band (the one that I mentioned earlier that had potential) and we would play in all sorts of crazy venues. More thrills! At the time, I was really invested in music and would rehearse constantly. (I even nearly abandoned my master’s degree at university because all I did was play music!)
All in all, musically speaking, those were the best years of my life! And I was really excited when I drove to buy that amp kit.
I had begun searching for a nice kit and completely lucked out on a local add. The seller was a bass player and, professionally, a sound engineer, who had taken great care of the gear. And I fell in love with his amp the moment I started reading about it:
- Seymour Duncan Bass 400 amp head.
He sold it as a package with 2 cabs:
-an Ampeg 15” cab that he had re-coned himself (super professionally!)
-and a Hartke Transporter 4x10”
I bought the whole kit for $700CAD (circa 2005).
That's the kit that is still in my closet today.
I still love that amp! It can take a beating, it is loud as hell (it can go up to 600 watts at 2 ohms!) and it’s especially able to give a clinically neutral tone, as well as boasting a 7 band EQ! Given that I played a lot at home and recorded on a sound card, I was completely happy with a stage amp that didn’t overly color the sound that I had crafted from my basses and pedal board.
I also remember, when I went over to the guy’s house to buy it, how he seemed at once super proud to sell me that great piece of equipment that he’d nurtured for all those years, while sad to let it go. He did tell me that the reason for the sale was that his «gigging days were over», and that he simply couldn’t rationally justify holding onto it anymore. I almost felt guilty taking it away from him at the time…
I haven’t completely decided to sell it yet, but it seems inevitable at this point. And I’m mourning for what it has meant to me.
I do hope, at least, that when I do decide to sell, I’ll meet an enthusiastic young bass player full of dreams for this great kit.
Thanks for reading.
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