Post by Taylorholic78 on Sept 27, 2005 20:31:00 GMT -5
I've been through my bass magazines and I found the JT interview from sometime ago... went to their website and found it.. here it is...
www.bassplayer.com/story.asp?sectioncode=21&storycode=1977
Liftoff from Planet Earth
By Marco Passarelli | January 2005
Duran Duran's John Taylor Fuels The Funk On Astronaut
Two decades ago, John Taylor was looked upon as little more than a bass-toting pinup boy, with Duran Duran’s looks alone causing mass hysteria among the bubble-gum pop set. The band is seen in a far more reverential light today—it was honored with Lifetime Achievement awards from MTV and Q magazine in the past year—and John is considered a bass player, period. His mastery for funky dance grooves is as clear on the band’s crackling new album, Astronaut, as it is on any one of Duran Duran’s nine previous releases.
From his fingerstyle Euro-funk on "Girls on Film" to his hip use of harmonics on "Night Boat" and "Anyone Out There," Taylor forged a completely original, highly influential style. He exploded on the band’s 1981 debut with distinctive tone, surprising note choices, and wild syncopations, and throughout the ’80s and ’90s he continually added to his bass vocabulary, like cool delay tricks ("Wild Boys," "A View to a Kill"), raunchy synth bass ("All She Wants Is"), and fretless lines ("Lonely In Your Nightmare," "Tiger Tiger"). In 1996 he returned to his gritty, angsty punk-rock roots on his first solo album, Feelings Are Good and Other Lies. The pressures of Duran Duran's fame and lineup changes, as well as his own personal demons and the desire to tell his own stories his way, caused John to leave the band in 1997. He then began a prolific solo career, which saw more album releases than Duran Duran had produced in its previous ten years. But when Duran Duran’s original lineup reunited in 2001, John Taylor was back fueling the rhythmic engine once again.
Every song on Astronaut features prominent bass lines. What brought out this element in your playing?
I think with Roger [Taylor, Duran’s drummer], I just got the confidence to come back and be funky again. For me relationships are all about trust, love, and confidence—you need to feel safe to try new things. Roger and I can groove for hours working out every nuance to fully realize every section of every song. And I’ve never been able to do that with any other drummer. So if the bass is sounding strong and confident, it’s because of Roger.
Were there any changes in the writing process for Astronaut?
The first recording and writing session for Astronaut was in summer 2001. We rented a house in the south of France and just jammed for about ten days. Three of the songs from that period are on the record: "Nice," "Bedroom Toys," and "Taste the Summer," so I think we nailed the album’s attitude right from the beginning.
Our songs are almost exclusively born out of jams. We'll often start with a groove or progression that we are really digging. If Simon [LeBon, vocalist] isn't feeling it, we start thinking about keeping the drums but changing the chords, for example. It’s a tricky way to work, but we try to get the original idea’s energy and impetus and have Simon fill in the gaps.
You’ve said that an early concept for the band was to cross Chic and the Sex Pistols.
I remember hearing "Good Times" back-to-back with "Anarchy in the U.K." one lunchtime in a Birmingham pub. It was an epiphany for me because those records are both so powerful and amazing—and so different. I thought, Wouldn’t it be great if somebody could combine the two?
You emerged with a distinctive style on the first Duran Duran album with octave-heavy bass lines and your use of harmonics. What was your approach to the bass at that point?
The first song that really got me onto the octaves was "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" by Sylvester, which was one of my favorite records. The harmonics probably came from Mick Karn. I loved his band, Japan, and Mick used harmonics beautifully.
What gear were you using for the first album?
I think I used an Aria Pro II 600 on the first two records, and Peavey amps. Most of the producers and engineers I’ve worked with have mixed the miked-amp sound with a direct signal. For both of those first two records, we would cut the bass and drums with a guide vocal, and then I’d go into the control room to touch it up.
You started incorporating some beautiful fretless bass on Rio. Was that influenced by Karn as well?
I think so. He was the only fretless player I was really aware of. And it was definitely more of a coloring thing; we would use it almost as an effect. But I was never so comfortable grooving with a fretless; I never played it often enough.
Were your gear choices the same for Rio?
I think I was starting to use the Aria SB1000, which had active electronics.
In the mid'’80s you put together a supergroup, the Power Station. Was that a release from the confines of Duran Duran?
I think so. We wanted to do something more immediate. We didn’t really know what we were going to do; we talked to [drummer] Tony Thompson about working together, and we were going to use different singers, but when Robert Palmer came in and sang "Communication," Bernard [Edwards, producer] said, "This is the voice—you don’t need to find any other voices."
Was it a big adjustment for you playing with Tony?
I was quite intimidated by him, and I never really felt like I connected with him. Certain bands like the Sex Pistols and the Who are very much about the drummer’s relationship with the guitar player, and the bass player is just left to tag along. Duran, with Roger and I, were very tight. With the Power Station, Andy [Taylor, guitarist] and Tony shared the primary rhythmic relationship, and I just played along. So yeah, it was a difficult adjustment, but Tony was an extraordinary talent.
What was it like working with one of your bass heroes, Chic’s Bernard Edwards?
Bernard was grounded—very down to earth. I was starting to spin out a little on everything that was going on around me, and I was losing confidence in my playing. I think moving to New York, mixing Arena there, and getting involved in Power Station and the New York session scene affected my confidence. Before that time, I had never really compared myself to other players. I came out really strong on that first album—fully formed, if you like—because I wasn’t comparing myself to others. My standards have never been, "I want to be a bass player like John Wetton or Paul McCartney." It was all about stance and sneer and hair and communicating that into something musical. And about this time, I started to think, I don’t know that much—but Bernard became like a dad to me. He was just very down home, telling me, "You’ve gotta keep playing—don’t ever stop playing," and that was very reassuring. He was great.
www.bassplayer.com/story.asp?sectioncode=21&storycode=1977
Liftoff from Planet Earth
By Marco Passarelli | January 2005
Duran Duran's John Taylor Fuels The Funk On Astronaut
Two decades ago, John Taylor was looked upon as little more than a bass-toting pinup boy, with Duran Duran’s looks alone causing mass hysteria among the bubble-gum pop set. The band is seen in a far more reverential light today—it was honored with Lifetime Achievement awards from MTV and Q magazine in the past year—and John is considered a bass player, period. His mastery for funky dance grooves is as clear on the band’s crackling new album, Astronaut, as it is on any one of Duran Duran’s nine previous releases.
From his fingerstyle Euro-funk on "Girls on Film" to his hip use of harmonics on "Night Boat" and "Anyone Out There," Taylor forged a completely original, highly influential style. He exploded on the band’s 1981 debut with distinctive tone, surprising note choices, and wild syncopations, and throughout the ’80s and ’90s he continually added to his bass vocabulary, like cool delay tricks ("Wild Boys," "A View to a Kill"), raunchy synth bass ("All She Wants Is"), and fretless lines ("Lonely In Your Nightmare," "Tiger Tiger"). In 1996 he returned to his gritty, angsty punk-rock roots on his first solo album, Feelings Are Good and Other Lies. The pressures of Duran Duran's fame and lineup changes, as well as his own personal demons and the desire to tell his own stories his way, caused John to leave the band in 1997. He then began a prolific solo career, which saw more album releases than Duran Duran had produced in its previous ten years. But when Duran Duran’s original lineup reunited in 2001, John Taylor was back fueling the rhythmic engine once again.
Every song on Astronaut features prominent bass lines. What brought out this element in your playing?
I think with Roger [Taylor, Duran’s drummer], I just got the confidence to come back and be funky again. For me relationships are all about trust, love, and confidence—you need to feel safe to try new things. Roger and I can groove for hours working out every nuance to fully realize every section of every song. And I’ve never been able to do that with any other drummer. So if the bass is sounding strong and confident, it’s because of Roger.
Were there any changes in the writing process for Astronaut?
The first recording and writing session for Astronaut was in summer 2001. We rented a house in the south of France and just jammed for about ten days. Three of the songs from that period are on the record: "Nice," "Bedroom Toys," and "Taste the Summer," so I think we nailed the album’s attitude right from the beginning.
Our songs are almost exclusively born out of jams. We'll often start with a groove or progression that we are really digging. If Simon [LeBon, vocalist] isn't feeling it, we start thinking about keeping the drums but changing the chords, for example. It’s a tricky way to work, but we try to get the original idea’s energy and impetus and have Simon fill in the gaps.
You’ve said that an early concept for the band was to cross Chic and the Sex Pistols.
I remember hearing "Good Times" back-to-back with "Anarchy in the U.K." one lunchtime in a Birmingham pub. It was an epiphany for me because those records are both so powerful and amazing—and so different. I thought, Wouldn’t it be great if somebody could combine the two?
You emerged with a distinctive style on the first Duran Duran album with octave-heavy bass lines and your use of harmonics. What was your approach to the bass at that point?
The first song that really got me onto the octaves was "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" by Sylvester, which was one of my favorite records. The harmonics probably came from Mick Karn. I loved his band, Japan, and Mick used harmonics beautifully.
What gear were you using for the first album?
I think I used an Aria Pro II 600 on the first two records, and Peavey amps. Most of the producers and engineers I’ve worked with have mixed the miked-amp sound with a direct signal. For both of those first two records, we would cut the bass and drums with a guide vocal, and then I’d go into the control room to touch it up.
You started incorporating some beautiful fretless bass on Rio. Was that influenced by Karn as well?
I think so. He was the only fretless player I was really aware of. And it was definitely more of a coloring thing; we would use it almost as an effect. But I was never so comfortable grooving with a fretless; I never played it often enough.
Were your gear choices the same for Rio?
I think I was starting to use the Aria SB1000, which had active electronics.
In the mid'’80s you put together a supergroup, the Power Station. Was that a release from the confines of Duran Duran?
I think so. We wanted to do something more immediate. We didn’t really know what we were going to do; we talked to [drummer] Tony Thompson about working together, and we were going to use different singers, but when Robert Palmer came in and sang "Communication," Bernard [Edwards, producer] said, "This is the voice—you don’t need to find any other voices."
Was it a big adjustment for you playing with Tony?
I was quite intimidated by him, and I never really felt like I connected with him. Certain bands like the Sex Pistols and the Who are very much about the drummer’s relationship with the guitar player, and the bass player is just left to tag along. Duran, with Roger and I, were very tight. With the Power Station, Andy [Taylor, guitarist] and Tony shared the primary rhythmic relationship, and I just played along. So yeah, it was a difficult adjustment, but Tony was an extraordinary talent.
What was it like working with one of your bass heroes, Chic’s Bernard Edwards?
Bernard was grounded—very down to earth. I was starting to spin out a little on everything that was going on around me, and I was losing confidence in my playing. I think moving to New York, mixing Arena there, and getting involved in Power Station and the New York session scene affected my confidence. Before that time, I had never really compared myself to other players. I came out really strong on that first album—fully formed, if you like—because I wasn’t comparing myself to others. My standards have never been, "I want to be a bass player like John Wetton or Paul McCartney." It was all about stance and sneer and hair and communicating that into something musical. And about this time, I started to think, I don’t know that much—but Bernard became like a dad to me. He was just very down home, telling me, "You’ve gotta keep playing—don’t ever stop playing," and that was very reassuring. He was great.