Tag Archives: squire

Hall Of Fame Lifecycle

In the span of 24 hours I revisited forty years of parenting, music and sports.

Friday night we attended the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction at the Barlcays Center in Brooklyn, mostly to see two-thirds of Rush (inducted a few years ago) do the honors for Yes, my all-time favorite band and the core of so much of my love of music. Saturday took us to the other new hockey arena in the tri-state area, this time to see Patrik Elias take one final pre-game lap as he has announced his retirement from the NHL. Elias cemented us as Devils fans, not just for bringing home two Stanley Cups (and two more Finals appearances) but for his loyalty, work ethic, and popular presence in the local area. His number will be retired by the Devils in 2017-18, and he is a likely NHL Hall of Fame candidate. Over the course of two nights in two big rinks, we saw the past, present and future of various testaments to craft well plied, through the lens of our past, present and future love of music and sports.

The similarities between the two nights were subtle but present: Playing — sports or music — is critical to our enjoyment. Seeing something live gives you context and texture and experience that you can’t get from recorded or televised events. Our heroes, whether known to us personally or just from the backs of their sports cards and record sleeves, influence our approach and goals and style. Our greatest moments of joy are often theirs as well.

Hearing Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson describe the influence Yes had on them as teenage musicians was priceless; it was a peek past the close of the “R40” tour that wrapped all the way around to the beginning of Rush time. Devin Harrison connecting Jeff Lynne’s ELO to his late father, and Geddy Lee invoking the awesome power of Chris Squire’s bass lines by sitting in with Yes on “Roundabout” made it feel as if both musical icons were smiling from on high. From past to present to future – Elias was greeted at center ice for the ceremonial face off by his wife and daughters, a surprise that made all in attendance (including Patrik himself) tear up; they are the influences on his future life.

30 Days of Giving 6 7 8 9 10: Giving Voices

So much for the daily updates on this topic — I didn’t forget, I just got buried with work projects and post-Thanksgiving turkey recovery. Here’s a quick catch up to get us to the 1/3 point: I’m trying to fund voices that need to be heard.

Day 6: CaringBridge. When my friends Kevin and Sari’s son was critically injured in a late season ski accident, we were able to his treatment, recovery and progress via CaringBridge. When you want to communicate with a large audience but don’t have the emotional or physical strength to be on email or the phone, CaringBridge provides a mediated, modulated voice to inform those who want to know, and to receive their good words without further taxing your mental reserves.

Day 7: The Electronic Frontier Foundation. You have a safe voice online because of the work of the EFF, who have been fighting since 1990 to protect encryption, privacy and individual rights. I’ll admit to spluring on this one, going for the $65 funding level so I can get a cool encryption t-shirt.

Day 8: Immigration Equality, through my friend Alan’s fundraiser. What if you came to the United States seeking safety and asylum, knowing that giving voice to your true identity as LGBQT or HIV+ would effectively be a death sentence in your home country? Immigration Equality provides legal assistance to those people who need it the most.

Day 9: Friends of the Wanamaker Organ. Not just once voice but hundreds, carefully restored and playable in what is now the Macys in Center City Philadelphia. I’ve been fascinated with pipe organs since discovering that the late Chris Squire (Yes bassist) made his musical debut on the church organ, and some of the most complex polyphonic classical pieces were written for organ (Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy, long before it was adapted by Jaco Pastorius for bass):

The former Wanamaker store holds something of a place of honor in various parts of my family, and the organ is cranked up for a fairly regular holiday concert schedule starting about now.

Day 10: Wikimedia Foundation. The voice of reason in online content, Wikimedia Foundation are the people who bring you Wikipedia, and do so without a single display ad or sponsorship. Wikipedia represents one view of democratic voices: crowdsourcing content such that the truth slowly converges not to what one person or one writer thinks, but to what the most people find the most reputable, corroborated and reliable over time. Imagine if all of life had “citation needed” or “This article needs improvement” overlays: we’d cut down on a lot of misinformation and encourage people to discover facts, figures and forces for themselves.

2015: Change, Change We Must

2015 was a year of very high dynamic range, in all possible senses and interpretations. In addition to well-defined highs, there were some definite lows, and significant reflection around the midpoint.

Our daughter kicked the year off with a law school acceptance – and we somewhat stupidly decided to drive home from her celebratory dinner in what would be the first major snow storm of January. She wrapped up her undergrad career with a spectacular graduation that included large and small ceremonies, dinners with friends, and all of the pomp and circumstance you’d expect. Random highlight: the procession to Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Procession of the Nobles” which was a high school band favorite.

After more than 30 years of discussion, gentle handling of basses in various music stores, and watching our son play upright and electric bass in venues ranging from Carnegie Hall to McGann’s in Boston, I decided to take formal lessons. Hat tip to Max at So.I.Heard music studio in Millburn, for both having the patience for an (older) adult student as well as finding the right mix of 70s classic rock and Phish songs to stimulate both long- and short-term musical muscle memory. I still suck, but at least I can do more than pluck open strings when I find myself staring at a wall of basses that plead “Play Us”.

Despite horrible ticket lottery luck, and random travel schedules, I was able to see Phish twice at the Mann Center, including one of the best all-time sets I’ve heard them play in a dozen shows. Got shut out of the Grateful Dead “Fare Thee Well” tour despite hand-decorating an envelope, but the Mann twinbill made up for that miss. There is nothing quite like seeing an intense show with old friends and a regular crew for the pre-game. This could become a tradition.

On other other end of the musical spectrum, we lost BB King and Chris Squire. Squire’s death was my personal equivalent of a lifelong Yankee fan experiencing Micky Mantle’s sudden and too-young death. It was the first bookend of music related events that made me realize, yes, my icons are aging, and the windows in which to see them live are closing or have closed. The other happy-but-sad event took place in Vegas, with the Bubba, as we caught one of the last large-arena Rush shows on their (effective) retirement tour. Seeing a band you love with your own kids, singing along as loudly as you are, enjoying the music in the moment, captures the wonder and pageantry and energy of live music in the best way possible. Like our daughter’s graduation, it marked a “last” that will endure in memory.

More personally, we said farewell to my uncle who had encouraged me in my more random engineering pursuits, and who epitomized the “do the right things” school of design. Despite his employer (at the time) insisting that there wasn’t that much value in the idea, he filed a patent for a radio frequency tag device which we recognize on the highways as EZPass. This Thanksgiving, our combined families celebrated the first “reunion turkey tour” in more than twenty years. Turns out we had four bass players at the dinner table. Loudness of all types ensued, and it was a wonderful celebration of the season.

By the time the ball drops on Times Square I will have read close to 50 books, including way too much science fiction and musical history, and a surfeit of trilogies with dystopian or apocalyptic under- and overtones. I do believe, as Neal Stephenson points out in the introduction to “Hieroglyph,” that science fiction drives science forward; it gives us the mechanism and meter to describe the future we wish to create. I got to use that line with Merck’s CEO, Ken Frazier, when he asked me why we (and by inference, he and the board) were hosting an internal hackathon, and he at least tacitly agreed (my badge still worked the next day). I had reviews of books retweeted or favorited by the relevant authors (Hannu Rajaniemi and Ted Kosmatka, both featured prominently in this year’s reading list). I learned quite a bit about the Grateful Dead, and relived some of my fascination with KISS (which introduced me to the wonders of live music, which of course fueled so much of this summer’s ups and downs).

So 2015 had its moments, good and bad, like all years. It brought changes in things to anticipate and appreciate; it reinforced the value of family and friends; it made me consider that change is good if it creates new opportunity and doesn’t forget, forgo or eclipse the path to its development.

2016 is going to be an interesting year, for all values of “interesting”.

Church of The Subwoofer

[ed note: This was originally posted as a page, but wasn’t getting any traction, and in an effort to clean up the site a bit I’m moving the content into the mainline. Plus I’ve been trying to squeeze ever lower frequencies out of my Sonos sub, using the TruePlay software to offset the minor dropped ceiling rattle it sometimes induces.]

Subwoofers are snarky audio components: feed them the wrong audio, with the wrong level settings, and you feel like you’re in a subterranean basement that’s all low echo and no daylight. But gently place one in your listening room, set the levels to not overpower your over-200 Hz drivers, and listen to some tracks with pronounced bass, and you’re in heaven. There’s an indescribable feeling of being at a live show, with the bass pouring over you, undulating your shorts or shirt sleeves, and for a moment you not only hear the music but feel it, in phase, and it’s nothing short of catching a bit of ocean spray as you hear the wave crash and smell the salt.

I also love “bass in front” music. So I’m biased. But after a few weak attempts to place a subwoofer and drive it well, I’ve fallen in love with my Sonos Sub – much less dependent on room placement and with the Sonos controller’s ability to level adjust, I can take 6 or 8 decibels off the top and keep the kitchen furniture from rattling.

If you’re wondering what the fuss is about, listen to the following with and without a well-matched sub, and see if the deeper bottom transports you to that spot on the musical beach:

  • Yes, “Wurm”, from the end of “Starship Trooper” on “Yessongs”. This is the gold standard, with Chris Squire working the Moog Taurus bass pedals into a frenzy.

  • Genesis, “Squonk,” from “Seconds Out”. More bass pedals, more prog, more Mike Rutherford! If you’ve ever heard progressive rock referred to as “arena rock”, you get the idea here – that sound could fill a football stadium (American or European).

  • Rush, “Subdivisions,” preferably from the live “Clockwork Angels” set, but even the studio version. More bass pedals, sitting under Geddy’s synth playing.

  • Phish, Mansfield MA show from July 1, 2014. There are a few “brown notes” in there, and listen to the second set closer “Harry Hood” around the 14:00 mark.

  • Chris Squire, Bass Player

    I am in shock at the passing of Chris Squire. When he announced he was battling acute leukemia in mid-May, my first thought was of my coaching buddy Chad, who faced — and won — a similar fight a year ago. The tall bass player, who had survived the 70s, four decades of touring, more than twenty studio recording sessions and any amount of internecine band warfare was going to win as well, to go back out on the road again, to continue to play amazing and intricate music. And on Sunday, suddenly, he was gone, and I felt a deep, personal sense of loss. Squire was central to my musical education, to my desire to play bass, to the love of live music I had tried to inculcate in my family, and to fundamental harmonics that underpinned a thousand nights of homework. I believe he taught all of his fans to listen to all things a bit more acutely and accurately.

    I met Chris Squire only once, five years ago, and so his death is not equivalent in impact or grief to that of a family member or friend; it’s more that a sense of order and consistency has been perturbed. A pillar of my musical universe has been harshly removed, and it is a stark reminder of my own mortality.

    I wanted to be Chris Squire after I devoured, in every sense, “Yessongs.” I probably was first exposed to Yes through a Philadelphia AOR station (WMMR or WYSP in the day), and “Roundabout” was a gateway to “Fragile” and to “Yessongs”. That one triple LP had an amazing profound an effect on my musical, engineering and social life, and Chris Squire’s bass playing was, and is, central to the story. My Yes fascination unfolds in typical nerdy fashion: During a summer in Harvey Cedars, our older, significantly cooler and more musically inclined downstairs neighbors revealed their Yes affiliations as well, and suddenly liking progressive music wasn’t as weird. I listened to “Yessongs” incessantly, and believe it spurred my love of live music, and desired to support artists through their tours. “Yessongs” wasn’t a perfect reproduction of the albums; it was something so much more, so definitive a performance, so characteristically Chris Squire leading with his bass. Two summers later, working on a math problem late on a Monday night (to be fair, before the internet and portable music players, you entertained yourself with TV, a book, puzzles/games, or by playing outside), I heard all of “Close to the Edge” tracked on WYSP, and found that combination of math and music abstraction intoxicating. I studied every picture, album cover, or poster I could find, and so wanted to be able to combine a cape, striped trousers, and a full-scale bass. Along with Geddy Lee and Jon Camp, Squire produced a wonderful, rich set of sounds out of his Rickenbacker bass, a guitar that became an unusual object of my affection for nearly forty years. When “Going For The One” was released, and high school buddy Lewis loaned it to me to record onto cassette tape, it was an experience like no other. To this day, the bass parts on “Awaken” and “Parallels” give me chills.

    Personally, Chris Squire’s legacy is preserved in vignettes: the first time Ben and I saw him at the Beacon Theater (my first live Yes show, after twenty-five years his deft mastery of, and range of sounds from, the triple-neck on “Awaken” (at the State Theater in New Brunswick); seeing Ben pick up a Rickenbacker bass at Sam Ash and pluck out “Heart of the Sunrise;” seeing Squire’s intense and yet simultaneous grinning countenance driving the band forward; a brief “hello” and handshake backstage at Bethel Woods five years ago; making sure that the Taurus pedals on “Starship Trooper” were the first thing to come out of my Sonos Sub; the outpouring of respect and sincere sadness from his musical peers.

    Here’s what I learned from his music: The interesting parts of life aren’t necessarily in 4/4 or even whole measures. Define your sound because it defines you. You decide when to play the melody and when to join the rhythm section. Intensity and precision are important but having fun is required.

    Thanks, Chris, for teaching all of us to hear (as Tom Brislin writes) “the bass lines in the background of life.”

    The Drama of Graduation

    This is about the Yes album “Drama”, with a thin reference to my own high school graduation.

    Thirty-five years ago today, as I was deep in final exams of my last year of high school, a friend told me that Yes had broken up, and that Rick Wakeman and Jon Anderson were being replaced by Geoff Downes and Trevor Horn of the Buggles. The shock that swept over me must have been close to that felt by Red Sox fans when Babe Ruth was traded to the Yankees, or when Wayne Gretzyky was traded from Edmonton to the Los Angeles Kings. This wasn’t so much a trade as I felt it was a betrayal of my adolescent sense that nothing should change, that things I designated as “mine” would remain consistent and persistent until they were no longer such an integral part of my daily routine.

    It’s easy to look back now and realize that (a) I didn’t really like Tormato, the last Yes album with the the “core five” on it, all that much, and that Jon Anderson’s pseudo-religious waxing lyrics had started to grate on me even then (b) It was a perfect time for a transition, for me to identify with the things that were constant (Howe, White, Squire) and embrace something new and (c) Drama is a rather good album.

    I remember buying Drama in the midst of packing my things for college; I put it on my trusty Radio Shack turntable (which lasted another two months after school started, to be replaced by my first component stereo system) and listened to it all the way through. Once. Twice. It rocked out. It had soaring guitar solos. It had driving bass lines. And yet, I think I was terrified by it, as terrified as I was about driving 30 miles across the void between high school and college. As I sought comfort and stability, my musical family suffered a divorce, came back together with a trophy spouse of a vocalist (the Buggles had the first video played on MTV), and dared to challenge me. I am reminded, 35 years later, of something my friend Jim says about good art: “It is supposed to make you uncomfortable.” With hindsight, it was all good, and was the beginning of my decision to explore musically at WPRB-FM over the next few years.

    Chris Squire’s Progeny

    I’m still kind of reeling from the announcement that Chris Squire of Yes is being treated for leukemia. Squire’s bass playing basically powered my engineering education at Princeton; I’m pretty sure I completed every physics, electrical engineering or math problem set listening to Yessongs, Relayer, and Going For The One. His bass was equally at home as a melodic voice (Heart of the Sunrise, Perpetual Change) as it was nestled in next to Alan White in the rhythm section. My love of all things Rickenbacker stems directly from Squire’s choice of axe, and I’ve even modeled capes (truthfully: while getting into trouble in departments in which I had no business at Nordstrom) playing air bass.


    The news is amplified through a 3-course plate o shrimp: It’s been just about a year since my ice hockey coaching friend Chad beat his leukemia into remission; I’m just getting proficient enough on bass myself to appreciate the dexterity and musicianship required to pound out some of those Squire bass lines; this week, Progeny, a 7-show collection of 1972 Yes concerts was released in a nicely packaged and Roger Dean-enhanced boxed set. Progeny is effectively the early leg of the 1972 tour that produced Yessongs; it’s a bit of Phish show catalogue of the Fish in his favorite element.

    Yessongs may be one of the single largest musical influences in my life. It was, at the time, the most expensive record I had purchased (the original vinyl is a triple LP). I copied Roger Dean’s artwork repeatedly; I studied the packaging as a musical history codex. It’s a safe bet that my love of live music is a by product of the crowd noise, energy and gentle melodic liberties of that recording. Progeny, indeed. And sincere hopes that Squire is able to beat his leukemia and continue making music that spans decades.