Lead from behind: wielding double bass superpowers in the orchestra

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Sitting on a perch-like stool at the back of the orchestra is a singular vantage point to take everything in: the sea of bows, the rampart of brass, the chorus of winds. As a new principal bassist, it was exhilarating, but also challenging to simultaneously process all that information and lead my section into the fray at the right moment. After being called out for playing ’almost a full beat behind!’ I spent a rehearsal frantically recalibrating my ears.

Learning to play at different places on the beat was disorienting, but immediately made the orchestra sound cleaner and respond more nimbly. As my awareness grew, my contributions to the group went much further than simply coming in on time. I realised that with a well placed pizzicato or a few bowed crotchet (𝅘𝅥) notes, my section could subtly lead and steer the orchestra to better respond to a soloist or develop a lyrical phrase. We were no longer just an accessory; we were a rudder strapped to the back of a large ship.  

In the midst of my amazement, this all weighed heavily on my conscience. Could it all just be a misguided sense of self-importance or had I actually stumbled onto a bass superpower? If this was legit, how could I ensure I was working for the greater good, and heading everyone in the right direction? I turned to some seasoned players for answers. 

’Just think about the origins of Western Music and how it was originally written,’ says Joe Conyers, principal bassist of the Philadelphia Orchestra. ’It was a bass with a melody on top. The bass was integral because the bass tells the story.’

Our role is foundational, like a plot line giving shape to all the colourful details built around it. This is true not just harmonically, but also in the placement of beats, the general sense of time, and even the clarity of sound or the overall balance. Kristen Bruyah, principal of the Minnesota Orchestra put it succinctly: ’If the bass line isn’t moving, nobody else is going to be moving.’

I did not get ahold of Sting for a quote, but if I did, I’m sure he would have reminded us that ’it’s not a chord until the bass plays.’ 

My section could subtly lead and steer the orchestra to better respond to a soloist or develop a lyrical phrase; we were a rudder strapped to the back of a large ship

Anything fundamental runs the risk of being taken for granted or ignored, but if the rest of the orchestra can actively draw their ears downward, playing as an ensemble becomes easier. ’I love when conductors tell the string sections to listen to the basses and suddenly things lock in,’ says David Yavornitzky, principal bassist of the Utah Symphony.

’Occasionally conductors have us sit on the other side of the stage behind the violins. Suddenly we’re playing along with the first violins, and I think that does something to the string ensemble in general. It tightens it up.’ He laments, ’It’s unfortunate that a lot of people in the orchestra don’t listen down far enough.’

Now, before we bass players start patting ourselves on the back, let’s remember that wielding our powers for good takes more than just showing up and having a great personality (though, I’m sure that helps). What must we do to harness this collaborative potential and make ourselves and our colleagues sound exceptional?

Virtually all of the principal bassists I spoke to said the same thing. Bob Oppelt, principal of the National Symphony explained: ’You have to be self-reliant, know your music and put your cues in. You have to be better than the person on the podium, let’s put it that way. We have to be more prepared than they can help us.’

Whether or not a cue comes your way, the downbeat must show up on time. But it’s not just that we don’t want to let others down by being unprepared. The beauty of music, the whole purpose of what we’re doing, lies on the other side of good preparation. Robin Kesselman, principal bassist of the Houston Symphony explained: ’We have to know what everybody is doing at literally every moment. What’s so magic about music is the human component, which is someone taking a little too much time, coming in later than they meant or rushing a little bit, and I need to know the music in a way that I can direct it as well as support.’

At the time, Houston Symphony was preparing a semi-staged production of Strauss’s Salome. ’I think there are colleagues of mine who are going to spend 5-10 hours preparing, but I’m sure I’ll be closer to 25-30 hours before the first rehearsal, just because I need to know everything that’s happening.’

After we’ve done sufficient preparation, there’s still a significant art to supporting and contributing with tact. Ultimately, our role as bassists is to create a musical current upon which everything else can float as seamlessly as possible. In practice, though, this can mean drastically different things. Are we showing the way on an accelerando or carefully placing pizzicati that support a flute melody? Learning when to fill each important role takes skill. Conyers reminded me that ’It’s not something you can just do, like, “oh, let me play in an orchestra now.” We actually spend our lives learning the unspoken code of communicating through our notes.’

Sure, we get it wrong at times, but even in those situations, how do we make sure our attempts don’t come across as bullish or overbearing? Jeremy Kurtz-Harris, principal of the San Diego Symphony makes this helpful distinction: being assertive involves a sensitivity to what’s happening around you, and only then stepping up to consciously lead. Being aggressive, on the other hand, is an emphasis on being right without regard to others, ’and is what’s going to peel you away from your colleagues and make people stop trusting you.’

Trust has a direct connection to the quality of the music. Kesselman explained that, ’Building that trust and selflessness is really important for other people in the orchestra. If you just start a phrase, they know you, and that you’re not just trying to be a bully; you’re trying to be helpful.’

A fascinating paradox to me is that when bassists do their job exceptionally well, they fit into the sonic environment so completely that they’re almost invisible. Kesselman sees it like being the catcher in baseball. ’If we’re functioning in the way we’re supposed to, most spectators don’t know we’re there, but we’re involved in every play and in control of what’s happening.’ It turns the typical idea of leadership on its head. 

We bassists have power, but if we focus too much on our own importance it will forever elude us–or worse, create rifts in the orchestra. To be important in the best way possible, to make a positive impact, we have to first be good collaborators and colleagues. In this sense, no matter what instrument you play, humility, team spirit, musical sensitivity and work ethic are the only superpowers that really matter.  

Christian Hales is principal bassist of the Charleston Symphony in South Carolina and author of the weekly classical music newsletter, The Green Room.