There was a time I’d try to throw in a tritone sub anytime I could. Now I ask: does this actually feel right?
The Shift: From Complexity to Connection
If you had heard me play ten years ago, you might’ve seen a bassist who loved stacking ideas.
If there was room to sneak in a tritone substitution, I would.
If I could layer a polyrhythm or throw off the time for just a moment, I did.
If the melody felt too “simple,” I’d find ways to flip it upside down.
There’s a season for that kind of playing—stretching, experimenting, learning the rules so you can bend them. But these days, I’m in a different season. After taking a long break from music (I never expected parenting to take up so much of my energy), I’ve slowly found my way back to the bass.
And I’ve noticed a quiet shift:
I’m less interested in what I can play. I’m more interested in what still moves me.
Watch the Clip
Here’s a short snippet of the solo bass version of “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac I posted on social media:
It’s raw. It’s spacious. And I’m proud of how the bass movement doesn’t detract from the melody.
That was the whole goal.
The Tune That Took Me There
Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide is one of those songs that takes me back the moment I hear it.
Not to any one place—but to a feeling.
A softness. A space.
When I decided to try a solo bass arrangement of Landslide, I didn’t approach it like I used to—with a stack of reharm ideas and substitutions ready to deploy.
Instead, I started with the melody.
I sang it to myself.
I let my fingers find it slowly.
And I asked myself: “What’s the least I can do to get out of its way?”
How I Approached the Arrangement
This isn’t a tutorial—but I’ll share my process in case it resonates with where you are in your playing.
1. Melody First
I didn’t look up a chord chart. I didn’t transcribe the voicings.
I sat with the melody until I could feel it on the fretboard.
That became my foundation.
I used to think of melody as something to reharmonize. Now I see it as the emotional core I need to protect.
2. Root Movement Second
Once the melody felt grounded, I added in the root motion.
No walking lines. No flashy fills. Just the essential low end to support the melody.
3. Restraint Over Reharm
Anytime I found myself trying to jazz it up—with a passing diminished chord or alternate turnaround—I’d play it once, enjoy the moment, and then drop it.
If it detracted from how the song made me feel, I let it go.
Strive for Feel Instead of Chops
This version of Landslide isn’t technically perfect.
But it feels like me—now.
And that’s what matters.
Guiding principles I now use when arranging:
- Emotion over complexity
- Simplicity that supports the song
- Melody as the main character
- Movement that feels natural on the instrument
- Leaving space for the listener (and myself) to breathe
Why Nostalgia Matters in Your Arrangements
We don’t talk enough about how nostalgia can be a powerful creative tool.
In the past, I saw nostalgic feelings as something to push past—something sentimental, less serious than technique.
But now? I see it differently.
Nostalgia is emotional clarity.
It tells you what matters.
It tells you what to keep.
If a song like Landslide makes you feel something, let that be your guide.
Not the changes.
Not the chops.
The feeling.
For the Players Coming Back
If you’ve taken a break from music…
If you’re navigating a new season in life where your energy is limited…
If you’re reconnecting with your instrument not as a gig tool but as a mirror…
This post is for you.
I used to believe every tune needed a twist. Now I believe every tune needs truth.
There was a time I’d try to throw in a tritone sub anytime I could.
Now I ask: does this actually feel right?
Thanks for listening.
–Posido
