Hey, bass player. Look at the bass player. Look at that smile, there’s sadness in that smile. Look at that chord structure, there’s sadness in that chord structure. Look at him flail like the wailin’ wall with nothin’ but stubby fingers and a dumb look on his face. He don’t know it but he’s balding…spiritually. But everybody hates the bass player. No one invites the bass player to the party after the show…If he does go to the party, he can only get the good looking girl’s – best friend…The bass player is the loser of the band, yes he is, if you don’t believe me take a look at the one you’re with. But, there’s something beautiful about the bass, sometimes when I listen to it, I–I don’t know, I get caught up in the swirl, I’m flying, I’m flying Ma, over a big beautiful lake. He’s playing the bass and I’m flying. Sometimes when I land I’m in a different neighbourhood, but that’s okay, ’cause whenever I listen to the bass player, I always bring cab fare. But after all, aren’t we all bass players? Aren’t you all bass players? They told me this was a bass players convention, you are all bass… Pick up the beat, pick up the beat. Hide the sadness, and tap your feet.
FOTO – IZZY FOREAL ON THE PORCH AT BILAMBIL 2008