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