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The sound for any occassion...
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A Music Icon Has Passed
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Ace Hill, pianist, composer and music legend, passed on to the other side on August 23rd in Marina, California. If that name doesn’t mean anything to you, then you never met him or heard Ace play. No one who ever met the man could possibly forget the experience!
I only knew Ace for two years, but instantly knew that an icon had entered my life. Although Ace’s gate was slow and deliberate, he had such a life force, I believed he would live forever.
Born Lemuel Hill in Meridian, Mississippi, on the 4th of July, 1928, he became enthralled with the sound of the piano around the age of 7, saying it was a defining moment in what he knew would be his career. His musical world was birthed around the George Frank Sims/Red Adams Group.
Ace found himself in New York City at the age of 13,mostly on his own, doing odd jobs as a dishwasher and shoe shiner. He lived behind the famed Apollo Theater in Harlem and even lived in the same apartment building as Duke Ellington. “The Duke” gave Ace techniques he could use to gauge his growth as a musician; ones he would say he found useful all of his life. Among the other greats Ace would have the fortune of learning from first hand, were Billie Holiday, Art Tatum, Wally Harris, and Joe Liggins. It was through these greats he would learn the quote, "If you can’t play the blues, you can’t play jazz." Anyone who new Ace would hear this quote often.
Ace’s first professional gig would be with Joe Liggins and the Honeydrippers, and would put him on the road at the tender age of 16, taking him from New York to California and half way back again. This is where the name "Ace" would come to life. It started as "Ace 88-Key" Hill, but later became just "Ace," a name he was proud to have. Ace said he would discover that road life was one he was too young to live, and relocated to Chicago.
In Chicago, Ace would work with such luminaries as Eddie Harris, Bobby Durham and Julian Preston, giving him another educational slant on his musical career. Ace would also complete his formal education somewhere during this time.
At this point in Ace’s life he is quoted to say, "The Army got me," "Uncle Sam called," or "This was one Hill the U.S. Army decided they had to take!" I’ve never heard him say it was a choice he made. He would spend 10 years with the Army, working in counter-intelligence and gain his Bachelors Degree.
It was the Army that would land him in Monterey, California, in 1965, where Ace would reside for the next 40 years. This was the birth of the Ace Hill Trio. Ace would tell the story of driving one night into Fort Ord., his new post, stopping in Monterey at the Colony Club for a beer. There was a beautiful old Steinway on the stage. He asked if they’d mind if he played it. Ace started his gig there the very next weekend, and would play in one place or another on the Monterey Pennisula for the next 40 years.
It wasn’t until the 1980's that Ace would record his music. This would be prompted by a 24 year old, very talented, toe-headed southern bassist named Bryan McConnell. Bryan and Ace would tell the story, finishing each others sentences like a father and son, that one night in 1985 at what was then the Monterey Sheraton, Bryan finally worked up the courage to ask "Mr. Hill" if he could play the bass, meaning to sit in. Ace simply answering, "I don’t know, CAN you?!" This would be the beginning of a 20 year relationship.
Through Bryan’s encouragement, now the bassist for the trio, in 1988 the Ace Hill Trio released their first CD, "Closer Together." Over the next 17 years, Ace would release CD’s "Pure Ace," "Look Out," and most recently "Unconditionally Ace" and "Old Bluesy Ace," the later featuring exclusively his own compositions.
Ace had his final CD Release Concert on April 2, 2005. With Ace on piano, Bryan on bass, Dr. David "Ginzo" Morewood on drums, and Ace’s latest protege, Luke Franco, on guitar, The Ace Hill Trio/Quartet packed the hall at the KRML Jazz & Blues Store in Carmel, California. This event was recorded by KRML 1410 AM, as well as broadcasted live that evening. The Monterey Pennisula was mesmerized by this historic moment. I was one of the many privileged spectators. Since that concert, Ace was picked up by Black Hawk Records. Also, there are rumblings of this live recording being released as a CD.
For many months Bryan and I would be in touch with Ace, either by phone or email, as was our practice. I received words of praise and encouragement from Ace for my CD Release Event, saying, "I wish I could be there!" Ace also gave me a glowing liner note for my debut CD, "Love Is Here," of which I am greatly honored to have.
I remember sitting in Ace’s diningroom, spring before last, with Bryan McConnell, my better half and musical inspiration, Bryan’s son Chazz, a musician in his own right, and Brian Gingerrich, Bryan’s executive producer, holding my breath as Ace silently listened to my CD, song after song not saying a word. At the time I thought I might kill Bryan for putting on our CD for Ace! Finally, he turned to me and said, "You know, everybody knows, I don’t like singers!" I prepared myself for the guillotine. He continued, "But you, my dear, can SING!"
About a month ago we got a call from Ace saying he was coming for a visit. We were thrilled. We cleaned the house, gardened the yard, fluffed his pillows in the guestroom with love and care, made sure to have his favorite drink on hand, Scotch and milk, and Bryan made fried chicken, the only chicken Ace would admit, better than his own!
Bryan also got Ace on his regular Friday night gig with Mark Lessman at the Del Mar Marriott. In my opinion, Ace played better than I’d ever heard him. He moved the usually reserved patrons there to their feet, compelled to cut a rug! The music that flowed between Ace and Bryan was that of one body. Later Mark would show up to his gig to join them on sax, along with his 18 year old son, Andrew, who had been on the gig the entire evening. Later Ace would comment,"That kid held his own, and I didn’t go easy on him!" I was deeply moved by the experience. We couldn’t have know this would be Ace’s last performance, ever.
We spent a wonderful weekend with Ace, one in which he often expressed how pleased he was for Bryan’s life here, like the proud surrogate father he was. Ace and I spent time talking about our students and returning to teaching in two weeks, as Ace was also a History Professor at Hartnell College in Salinas, California, receiving his Masters Degree in History at San Jose State University sometime during the 1980's. Also, I was able to talk Ace into singing some of his original compositions for me. A year ago he sent me four ordinals asking me to sing them. I recorded Ace’s voice so I could study them. I couldn’t have known how valuable this recording would become to me and others.
We waved good-bye to Ace as he drove off to his next destination to visit with family. I was to hear from him soon, as I had convinced Ace to make his CD’s available on CD Baby, and offered to help with the logistics. A week and a half later we received word that Ace had died.
I felt compelled to write this story, as I wanted to share with others what a profound impact knowing Ace made on my life. Those of you who knew him, I’m sure none of what I’ve written is new to you, only reinforces the smile his memory brings out in you. But I wanted to somehow bring to those of you who didn’t know him, that same smile, as only Ace could evoke.
written by Julie McConnell
on September 10, 2005
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Married to the Bass
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by Robin Meloy Goldsby
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Okay, Ladies, listen up. Bass players make great husbands. There is no scientific data to support my claim. But having worked my way through the rhythm section, the technicians, and a handful of brass, reed, and string players, I'm a qualified judge.
First, consider this. A man who plays an upright bass is strong. He lugs the instrument around, carries it up steps, slides it in and out of cars, and maneuvers it through large crowds of people. If you marry a bass player you'll be getting a physically fit husband. Okay, there is the occasional back problem. This crops up two or three times a year—usually when you want him to move your grandmother's walnut armoire or need him to stand on a ladder and drill a hole in the ceiling. But you can cope with such minor inconveniences by calling a muscular clarinet player who is handy with a power drill. Good luck finding one. Here's the thing: When your bass player is pain-free, he's as strong as a bull. He has to be in order to make the gig. And he might even throw you over his shoulder and carry you over the threshold every so often, just because he can.
Next, ponder the shape of the upright bass. It's shaped like a woman. A bass player knows about bumps and curves—he even likes them. He has dedicated his life to coaxing beautiful music out of voluptuous contours. He'll do the same for you. Just don't marry a stick-bass player, unless you look like Kate Moss or intend to spend the rest of your life eating lettuce.
Examine the bass player's hands, especially when he's playing a particularly fast passage. Now imagine what those fingers can do to you. Enough said.
A great bassist is an ensemble player, a team member who executes, with confidence, a vital role in any band with the strength of his groove, the steadiness of his rhythm, and the imaginative logic of his harmonic lines. This doesn't just apply to the bassist's music. It also applies to his outlook on life. A bass-player husband will be loyal, true, and interesting, and will help you emerge from life's challenges looking and sounding better than you ever imagined. If you're in a bad mood, don't worry. He'll change keys. On the other hand, if you marry a pianist, he'll try and arrange everything and then tell you what your disposition should be. If you marry a guitarist, he'll try to get ahead of you by analyzing your temperament in double-time. If you marry a drummer, it won't matter what kind of mood you're in because he'll just forge ahead with his own thing. A bass player follows along, supports you, and makes you think that everything is okay, even when the world is crashing down around you.
There are some minor drawbacks. You need to have a house with empty corners, especially if your husband owns more than one upright bass. I know, you have that newly reupholstered Louis XV chair that would look fabulous in the corner by the window. Forget it—that's where the bass has to go. You can come to terms with these trivial decorating disappointments by reflecting on the sculpture-like quality of the instrument. Even when it's silent, it's a work of art.
If you have children—and you will because bass players make great fathers—your most frequently uttered phrase will be "WATCH THE BASS!" You will learn how to interject this phrase into every conversation you have with your children. For instance: "Hello, sweetie, watch the bass, did you have a nice day at kindergarten? We're having rice and broccoli for lunch, watch the bass, do you want milk or water to drink?"
You will be doomed to a life of station wagons, minivans, and SUVs. You might harbor a secret fantasy of zooming around town in a Mazda MX5 convertible, but this will never happen unless you go through a big messy divorce, give your bass-player husband custody of the children, and marry a violinist, which would be no fun at all. Better to accept the hatchback as an integral part of your existence and get on with it.
Any trip you make with your family and the bass will be a pageant that requires detailed organization and nerves of steel. In addition to your two children (one of whom probably wants to be a drummer—heaven help you), you will commence your journey with suitcases, bass, bass trunk, backpacks, amp, car seats, strollers, and diaper bag. Your husband, weighted down with an enormous backpack and a bass trunk the size of a sub-zero refrigerator, will leave you to deal with everything else. As you try to walk inconspicuously through the airport terminal, people will point and stare.
First Spectator: "They look like the Slovenian Traveling Circus!"
Second Spectator: "Hey Buddy, you should have played the flute!"
Things like that. You will learn how to say ha, ha, ha, stick your nose in the air, and pretend that you are traveling with a big star, which of course he is, to you.
Your bass-player husband will know the hip chord changes to just about every song ever written in the history of music. This is a good thing. Just don't ask him to sing the melody. He might be able to play the melody, but he won't sing it—he'll sing the bass line. And, if you happen to play the piano, as I do, don't expect him to just sit there silently and appreciate what you are playing without making a "few suggestions" for better changes and voicings. He'll never give up on trying to improve your playing. But That's why you married him in the first place. He accepts what you do, but he pushes you to do it better.
If you marry the bass player, you marry the bass. Buy one, get one free. Your husband will be passionate about his music, which will grant you the freedom to be passionate about the things you do. You might not worship the bass as much as he does, but you’ll love the bass player more every day.
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In her memoir "Piano Girl: Lessons in Life, Music, and the Perfect Blue Hawaiian," Robin Meloy Golsby (copyright 2005 Backbeat Books [www.backbeatbooks.com]. Excerpted by permission.) recounts the trials and triumphs of her 30 years as a working musician. Along the way, she devotes a chapter to the joys of being married to a bass player. In Robin's case, that happens to be solo artist and WDR Big Band bassist John Goldsby.
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Goldsby, Robin Meloy. "Married
to the Bass." Bass World
29.1(2005): 27.
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