Bassline

"Aqui estoy ante ti
En tu amor busco tu verdad
Se que tu perfecta gracia me atrajo hacia ti
Por ti vivo en libertad"
 - Tuyo Soy, by En Espiritu Y En Verdad


I find the bass.
Together, the various instruments and voices combine and rise to create music all it's own. It surrounds me and lifts me, but in the moments when I feel adrift, I find the bass, and it anchors me.
The guitar is sweet and mellow, leading the charge in it's demure way, knowing that it is classic and not needing any further spotlight in the midst of the band. The drummer is full of life, all thudding beat and crashing symbols which pulses through me as though it's a second heartbeat merging with my own. The piano is compelling, clear and inviting and able to lead all on it's own or blend in with the rest of the instruments. The vocalists range from strong to low to high, sometimes one taking the spotlight while the others pull back from their mics, sometimes all of them singing with full lungs and closed eyes. The electric guitar is unapologetic in the way it can stand out, declaring certain notes with a vibrant abandon. I adore it for it's reckless uniqueness.

With eyes to the ceiling, I search for the bass. I am being carried away on the music and it is wild and brave and free but I need my anchor so I seek it through all the sounds. I sift through them, including any other stringed instruments such as violin or cello which tear through my heart in the most beautiful way possible. They swirl around me, my voice rising and mingling in the midst of them. I love that the music is loud. I love that I can sing with fervor and no one will look sideways at me because mine is simply one in many, one note in the cacophony that somehow comes all together to create something enormous in it's splendor. I am small amidst something great. I am untethered, and for a handful of moments it is good. Yet some Sundays, my being is already up to the brim with feelings, so if I am tired or sad or pensive, if I am hurt or lonely or want to smash the patriarchy as though it were a physical object, if I really want a day to sleep in late and not put on makeup or leave the house and face expectations, if I long to be allowed to do less and want more and still be enough, then first, first, I look for the bass.

When I need to focus back on my own pulse again and the being I was divinely created to be, in this world yet heaven bound oh dear sweet hope; first, I look for the bass.


You can make it whatever you want it to be, musical or otherwise. The quiet rush of air into your lungs, something you recite to yourself, a steady point on the horizon or an image in your mind, the comforting warmth of interlacing your fingers together, or any myriad of seemingly small things which can be so significant. Whatever you seek to help connect you to peace, it's okay. It's good.

Connect to other people, connect to faith. These things we all need so achingly. But when it's hard to ask for help, or even to pray, (though I try and do it anyway) it can help, first, to look for the bass.


The bass is a backbone. The bass player glances at the lead guitarist while strumming a few key notes. His additions compliment the music as good wine compliments a fine meal. The notes are low and reverberating. I've always had a thing for low voices, even really gruff ones which sing with a raw intensity that to some may not be beautiful but to me are incredible in the way I can hear the full effort of their endeavor and want to thank them profusely for putting every bit of themselves into a song and gifting it to the world. Therefore it's no surprise that I love the bass, with each note so full and lingering. Only rarely does he stand out; most of the time I have to listen carefully for my anchor. Even in the spotlight, he's not showy. He is steady. In my head I can hear his low sound long after the higher guitar strums have faded away. Together, all the notes of the choir or band or group build and soar. My voice rises, and as I close my eyes, I find the bass, again and again. Anchored. Soothed. Calm and steady in the storm.
I find the bass.