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"If you ask someone, 'can you play the violin', and he says, 'I don't know, I've not tried, perhaps I can', you laugh at him. Whereas about writing, people always say: 'I don't know, I have not tried', as though one had only to try and one would become a writer."

--Leo Tolstoy

Words of wisdom from some Russian writer guy. I think he wrote a very large book or something.

Let me just start this off by admitting what will soon become obvious to you: I don't have the energy to make this Act a work of art. In my defense, I can tell you that my "work in progress" (very inside joke here--one day hopefully you'll get it) is officially halfway done. I've got 285 manuscript pages (double-spaced, that is--actual book pages would number something closer to 220) sitting in a stack on the corner of my desk, and there are few things that make me happier than just looking at it and admiring its height and girth. But that kind of productivity doesn't come without cost, and tonight, as I sit here before you, the cost is the quality of this here work. OK, I'm in the clear to really suck now, so let's get on with it.

A quick rundown of our topics for today: Z finally hits the big time, a Keneally recording update, dealing with the day job, The Life Of Bryan goes to print, and--most importantly--a list of 20 albums that mean a lot to me. Plus some other miscellaneous tidbits as well, all of which will undoubtedly bore you to tears. Bring your hankies.

First off, we have The Baseball Detectives. I'm sitting in my room in front of my computer, like I always am at night, taking a short break from writing and checking my e-mail. The TV is on ESPN but I'm not looking at it. All of a sudden, "Silver Lady Disco", the leadoff tune to Z's Music For Pets comes on. I'm looking at my computer, thinking that my hard drive is finally going to crash as a result of the one time I actually stuck that disc into my PC's CD-ROM drive, but no--it's coming from ESPN. And there they are, Dweezil and Ahmet, dressed up in late-70's-cop-show-gear, doing a takeoff of The Beastie Boys' "Sabotage" video, promoting ESPN's twice-weekly baseball coverage. The spots include actual players and managers calling on our heroes for game-time substitutions, Dweezil and Ahmet stealing signs from the opposing teams, and even getting some big leaguer a better mattress to sleep on. I later found out that Joe Travers helped put the music for these spots together (apparently there are a total of 12 spots, and some incidental music was done to accompany them). Nice work if you can get it.

Once I had a chance to digest the fact that millions of people would be hearing Z at least once an hour on ESPN for the better part of this baseball season, it occurred to me that, in terms of a tune truly representative of the band, the masses were hearing the right track. "Silver Lady Disco", though basically a joke tune, was Z at its best, for better or for worse. Dweezil camping it up, playing the smooth "allllriiiight" kind of guy on guitar, Keneally orchestrating the disco horns, Joe and I just doing whatever groove was required, and Ahmet...well, he didn't even need to sing to make his presence felt. If we ever did this one live, he could've talked through it and held the crowd's attention more than Dweezil, Mike, me or Joe ever could. What a weird band that was. Anyway, enough about that. If you haven't seen the spots, or don't watch ESPN, tune in and check it out for yourself. Allllriiiiight

And now for your Mike Keneally recording update. April 5th and 6th saw the official BFD lineup (me, MK, Toss Panos) hit the studio to do some of the new album's more difficult tracks. I'm happy to report that no one died, tape was recorded onto, and all were happy with the results--even me. "Voyage To Manhood" is the anti-rock-god shuffle, but that didn't mean it didn't contain some impossible Uglytown-style open-string-nightmare licks. There ain't no one happier than me about this track being done (yes, I somehow pulled it off...'twas my luck day, it seems). The kind folks at SWR, my current employer, were kind enough to lend me this thing they call the "Interstellar Overdrive", which is a really cool-sounding fuzz-distorto pre-amp made specially for the bass. I used it on something called "Why Am I Your Guy", and it sounds ungodly. Other finished basics include a heavy groove tune called "Beautiful" (Toss is such a fucking MAN on this one), a Kings X-ish as-yet-untitled rocker, the ballad (which is called "I'm Afraid" and is totally gorgeous), and that impossible thing called "Cardboard Dog", which was eight minutes of impossible time signature changes and weird, Zappa-influenced type shit. I even got a halfway decent bass solo down for "I, Drum-Running, Am Clapboard Down" in less than ten takes--talk about your lucky days. Toss, of course, was firing out first takes left and right. He scares me. To sum it all up, I like what we've got so far, and I haven't even heard what MK's done to these tracks in the way of overdubs yet. Should be cool. Can't wait for you to hear it.

Did I mention SWR? You know that I work there, but a funny thing happened on the way to the day job--I am now something of an authority on their products. It's hard for me to believe that yours truly, who at one point not too long ago didn't know the difference between a Phillips and a flat-head screwdriver, knows as much about this bass gear as I do, but such is life. Over the past three months, I've done everything from test amps, to doing speaker repairs, to assembling cabinets, to demo-ing products for artists, and everything in between. Arthur Barrow even stopped by one day--we jammed a bass duet version of "Inca Roads", if you can believe that. Then he bought some of our fine gear. (Did I mention what a loyal employee I am? They're lucky to have me, dammit.). Actually, all things considered, everything's going well over at SWR. Aside from the occasional production rush (at which point all activity must stop in order to get a certain order out by shipping time, and the place goes totally insane for four hours as a result), it's not a bad gig, and I usually have some brainpower left over to write with. They seem to like me over there as well--they have a new website up at www.swreng.com, and they'll have a picture of me up there (as one of their "noted users") any day now. The site was designed by Kelly Castro, the real SWR Tech Wonderboy, not to mention the guy who helped get me the job. You can e-mail him from over there, and if you do, make sure to let him know what a swell guy I think he is for always being such a happy fellow at work.

Another cool guy in this world is John D'Agostino, artist relations point-man for Taylor Guitars. Why? Because he commissioned me to interview myself--that's right, interview myself-- for Taylor's in-house publication Wood And Steel, of which he is the editor. I just got it in the mail today, and although the piece isn't quite as subversive as I'd originally wrote it (the uncensored version features one "Beller" excoriating the other for "writing his own press"), it's still pretty damned remarkable that it exists at all. Credit goes to Mr. D'Agostino, since he came up with the idea. He even named the interview "The Life Of Bryan". Obviously, he's a loyal page reader as well. I know, I know...what a trip. Wood And Steel isn't available everywhere, but if you can get a copy, you'll laugh. I promise.

They say it's your birthday...on May 6, they said it was mine. Hard to believe that a year ago at this time, BFD was just finishing up their first real tour (the "Thanks, Toss" tour, detailed in Acts 11 and 12), and that I spent my 25th birthday traveling from Maine to Pittsburgh to Seattle and finally to some Motel 6 in rural Oregon. This year, my 26th, was done a bit more low-key--I did go to work that day, and my ol' buddy Joe Travers took me out for dinner that night. It was nice, but the whole time I was out, there was something gnawing at me. It's the same thing that gnaws at me whenever I'm out instead of home writing. It's that feeling of, well, uncentered-ness. Excuse me, but I need another paragraph to do this right.

I now know what it means to lead the life of a writer. It's the polar opposite of the life of a musician; musicians are always out, doing gigs, being seen in clubs, bars, halls...the whole thing with getting together for rehearsal and then getting together at gigs is that it's a completely social event. You're mixing with people all the time. Writing, on the other hand, is a solitary pursuit. You don't want anyone to bother you. You never want the phone to ring. You never want to go out. All you care about is producing a good night's work, which may consist of anywhere from three to fifteen pages, depending on how well the night went. This makes you happy. This makes you whole. A night not spent doing this makes you feel like a total human waste, a real piece of shit. But a good night of writing makes you feel like you own the world. If I had my way about it, I'd spend 14 hours a day in my bedroom, doing nothing but cranking out pages and pages. But that's not realistic. Life gets in the way. You have to do laundry. You have to pay your bills. You have to eat. You have to talk to people every once in a while. You have to make enough money to live on. In my case, I still do the occasional gig and session as well. It's not easy to balance it all, but I'm plowing through and I'm happy with what I've got so far. I guess the main point here is, to paraphrase Tip O'Neill, writing ain't beanbag. It's the hardest thing I've ever done, but it's well worth it. I hope to God that one day I can share it with you.

This is a good time to thank you. Yes, you. The amount of e-mail I've received over the past month has dropped considerably, and it's helped me very much in my constant pursuit of a good night's work. Maybe if I wasn't so goddamned obsessive-compulsive I'd be able to just let it sit in my inbox and I'd get to it when I could, but noooooo...I have to answer it right away or else my head will explode. Don't get me wrong--I still love hearing from you, but my requests for shorter length and less frequent responses have been fully honored, and for that I thank you very sincerely. Hopefully I didn't piss everyone off, and someone's still reading this.

OK, we're ready. If case you didn't notice, Bass Player magazine did a piece on "30 Essential Bass Albums You Must Own!" in its last issue. And Rolling Stone did one on "The 200 Best Albums Of All Time!". Now I know you won't believe me, but I actually had the idea for my little thing here before these issues came out. Really. I thought to myself, "Well, since you won't have anything exciting to talk about, why not do a list of 20 albums that mean a lot to you? How original that would be!" Well, it didn't quite work out that way, but I'm going through with it anwyay. Remember--I'm not proclaiming these albums to be "better" than anything else (hear that, Mr. CEO?). I'm only saying that these 20 albums mean a lot to me. I could've chosen 15, or 25, or 57, or 3, but 20 seemed about right. So, without further adieu, here they are: 20 Albums That Mean A Lot To Me.

1. The Wall--Pink Floyd (1980) This was the very first album I ever owned, bought for me by my grandparents when I was only nine. Right away, I could tell that the repeating themes of a concept album ("In The Flesh", "The Trial", "Hey You") were something that appealed to me. I can still sing the entire guitar solos from "Comfortably Numb", "Young Lust", and "Another Brick In The Wall Part 2", note for note. Being only nine ensured that I'd never see this tour, something I still curse to this day. By the way, my second favorite Floyd effort: Animals. What a great, angry, honest piece of work.

2. Blood Sugar Sex Magic--The Red Hot Chili Peppers (1991) God, did I freak when this came out. I'd already spent the better part of my years at Berklee learning Flea's lines from Mother's Milk and The Uplift Mofo Party Plan, but this album just killed me. What a great bunch of tunes. "Mellowship Slinky In B Major" and "If You Have To Ask" are maybe the two best white funk-rock songs ever written. And once One Hot Minute came out, it became obvious that John Frusciante was the ultimate guitarist for this band, and that they'll probably never regain the vibe of this near-perfect record. Check out Flea's solo in "Naked In The Rain"--now that's a fucking bass solo.

3. Close To The Edge--Yes (1972) For me, this is the ultimate prog rock album. On the title track, the playing is individually brilliant, while as a band, they're as cohesive a unit as Yes ever was. Chris Squire's bass sound is heavy and scary. Bruford's snare drum sound is even more so, making Yes one of the few prog bands to ever actually groove (before Alan White joined the band, that is). The pulsing climax to "Siberian Khatru", and the following guitar solo that ends the tune...it still gives me chills up and down my spine when it fades out. Of course, on their next album, Tales From Topographic Oceans, they went right over the edge, making this their true artistic climax under the "original" lineup of Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, Howe and Squire.

4. The Downward Spiral--Nine Inch Nails (1994) Besides being one of the best stairmaster albums in history, this record touched me very personally. There are times when I feel like less than a human being, due to some insecurity, or personality flaw, or what have you. This music speaks directly to those times. As far as I'm concerned, this album captures the essence of masculine dysfunction like no other in history. The two that hit home for me: "Closer" and "Big Man With A Gun". There have been times in my life when I was that person, and hearing those songs at the wrong times can drive me to a near violent state.

5. Rift--Phish (1993) And now for something completely different. I know that there are a lot of folks who can't get past the hippie-ish vocal delivery, and the goofy-country vibe they sometimes hit on, but this is a cool record and it's stuck with me for a long time. These guys are a real band, and it shows in the jamming on tunes like "Maze" and "Rift", as well as the form intricacies of "It's Ice" and "Mound". Now you know why I wanted to play this so much at what would've been our Halloween '97 show in Burlington, VT (which obviously never happened)--I already knew and loved this CD, as opposed to Junta, which was twice as long and, in my opinion, not as focused (I can feel the wrath of the Phish fans now...take it easy on me, OK?). It's nice to know that a band like this can still achieve success in the era of buzz clips and bands comprised of ten-year-old kids.

6. Black Sabbath--Black Sabbath (1970) "Oh no please God help me!" This one's a guilty pleasure which dates back to my high school days, but for some reason I still love it. Maybe it's because of heavy grooves like "The Wizard" (John Tesh's version with Dweezil on the Conan O'Brien show notwithstanding), or the pumping bassline on "N.I.B.", or the way Ozzy tries his best not to let his voice crack in "Warning" as he sings, well below his range, "Just a little bit too strong...". Hard to believe how heavy this was for 1970--they must have thought it sounded like Slayer back then.

7. Grace--Jeff Buckley (1994) This one is attached to the piece of my heart that broke off in 1994, when one of the few serious relationships in my social history fell apart into a million tiny pieces. It's a shame, because this is a great record, with great songs, a talented band, and some of the best, most emotional rock singing in recent memory, but I can't listen to it objectively anymore. It's too personal. "Last Goodbye" and "Hallelujah" still have the ability to make my eyes water.

8. Invitation--Jaco Pastorius (1983) Available on CD as a Japanese import only, this record changed my bass playing forever. His version of "The Chicken" probably has had more impact on my playing than any other single tune in existence. Then there's his blazing latin take on the standard "Invitation"--just try and keep up with him. I dare you. "Reza/Giant Steps", an eleven minute African-influenced tour-de-force, features his big band, a truly eclectic unit that included Peter Erskine on drums, "Toots" Thielemans on harmonica, Randy Brecker on trumpet, Othello Molineaux on steel drums...the list goes on and on. A massive effort from a massive, massive musician. This is probably my favorite "players" record out there.

9. Abbey Road--The Beatles (1969) To me, they saved the best for last. I've always been a late-era Beatles guy myself, but this one gives me chills. Especially Paul's side of it, starting with "Because", all the way through to "Carry That Weight" and "The End". As if that chunk of pop masterpiece wasn't enough, you've got "Come Together", "Something", and "I Want You"--the long, built-up ending to Lennon's take on bluesy hard rock actually spurs Ringo on to try a kind of heavy metal snare drum fill. It works. Like The Beatles need me to tell you that this is a great record. Anyone who hasn't heard this album yet, well, you need to. For the record, I first got a hold of this from my parents' album collection at an age I can't even remember.

10. The Reality Of My Surroundings--Fishbone (1991) Fishbone is a great band that almost broke big time, but never really made it over the hump during the brief funk-rock revival of the early 90's, when the Chili Peppers went huge. There's a lot to this record, so much so that its density makes parts of it hard to listen to if you're not in the right space, but if you are, it's a wonderful, eclectic delight. It's a little less ska-ish than Truth And Soul, but I like it specifically for that reason. "Fight The Youth" is a scary opening track. "Housework" will make you laugh; "Pray To The Junkiemaker" will make you cry. The gospel ending to "Everyday Sunshine" had me up and dancing around in my bedroom, so much so that I closed my senior recital at Berklee with it. As a matter of fact, during my tenure at Berklee, I played more songs from this record than any other.

11. Gretchen Goes To Nebraska--King's X (1989) This may be my favorite straight-up rock record of all time. I wasn't into them when this album came out, but they were all the rage at Berklee; it seemed that the entire school went to go see their show at The Channel when they toured behind this. When I finally got around to picking this CD up in 1994, I realized why--there are no bad songs on this record. Imagine that--a rock album released in 1989 with 12 great songs on it. It's also the perfect disc for driving through the barren deserts of Southern California. If you're an East Coaster, you may not know what I mean, but if you should ever find yourself driving Route 395 on your way from Los Angeles to Reno, put this on and you will understand. The descending, looping chord sequence that ends "i'll never be the same" is one of the coolest things ever written for a rock band, period.

12. Flat Out--John Scofield (1989) What a cute, quirky record this is. After five years of putting out funk/fusion records with the tight-as-nails rhythm section of Dennis Chambers on drums and Gary Grainger on bass, Sco went for something completely different here--a second-line, New Orleans-ish take on Scofield-type guitar jazz, complete with Don Grolnick on the Hammond B-3 that dominates the CD. Terry Lynn Carrington just goes completely berserk on a hyper-fast version of "All The Things You Are", and Sco tears The Meter's "Cissy Strut" a new you-know-what. But the real prize here is the slow, moody "Science And Religion". I've never been a big fan of straight-ahead jazz, and this is definitely not straight-ahead jazz, but Scofield just kills me with that laid-back, crunchy feel of his. He's got the swingin' groove, you dig?

13. Master Of Puppets--Metallica (1986) The first time I heard Metallica was when Ride The Lightning came out. To say I was anything less than frightened by "Fight Fire With Fire" would be a lie, but it eventually grew on me. Puppets took a little longer, but once it caught me, I realized that it hit two of my weak spots--progressive and heavy metal. "Disposable Heroes" and "Master Of Puppets" both clock in over the eight minute mark, but like any good prog tune, it doesn't feel like it. The real shame here is that Cliff Burton died before they figured out how to mix the bass in an audible fashion. What's even harder to believe is that Metallica's lineup was once Hetfield, Lars, Burton and Dave Mustaine on lead guitar. What a load of talent (save Lars, of course). Something good had to come of that, and eventually it did when Metallica's Black Album sold 478 million copies, but Puppets is the band at their peak, and true fans know it. Just try listening to "Damage, Inc." without wanting to break something.

14. Ten Summoner's Tales--Sting (1993) I know what you're thinking-- huh? I don't know why, but the timbre of this recording on the whole just grabs me for some reason, and I'm still not sick of listening to it. Vinnie Coliauta helps me get through it, of course, especially with the brilliant shit he does on "Seven Days". And I know you may be sick of "If I Ever Lose My Faith", but I'm not. It's a great song, and he deserves credit, even if Frank Zappa once turned to me and sneered after seeing Sting on the '93 MTV Video Music Awards, "And Sting. How about that bass playing, eh?_!!94 (See Act 3 for this story in full context.) Hey, speaking of FZ...

15. You Can't Do That On Stage Anymore, Volume 2/One Size Fits All --Frank Zappa (1974-75) This was my favorite Zappa band. It also happened to be the first Zappa material I ever heard, all the way back in '89 (not once did I listen to FZ in high school). I listed both of these records because they're basically the same band, even if the live material is more Roxy And Elsewhere than One Size, and that's because it was obvious that this band was having a fucking ball. I mean, every FZ band seemed to be having a good time, but even Frank seemed caught up in the giddiness of this group--check out "Room Service" from Vol. 2 and you'll see what I mean. Having George Duke around doesn't hurt anything either. A quick rundown of my fave tunes from these records "Approximate" (FZ solos over changes!), "Echidna's Arf (Of You)", "Inca Roads", the slow gothic version of "Pygmy Twylyte"...I could go on and on. Let's just leave it at this: These records are what first got me into Frank.

16. Sheryl Crow--Sheryl Crow (1996) The last one to make it on the list, and the most recently released. Why, you ask? Because she produced it herself, and she played bass on most of it, and it's a great collection of 90's style pop tunes done right. It found its way into my soul during my drive back across the country at the end of the Half Alive In America Tour, and it hasn't left yet. "The Book" speaks to me in a way I never thought possible. "Maybe Angels" is the kind of song I wish I could write, and "Everyday Is A Winding Road" deserves to be the hit single that it is. And check out the lyrics to "Oh Marie"--they're a hoot. I was as skeptical as anybody of Sheryl's sudden success, but this CD won me over and then some. By the way, did you know that Toss Panos and Kevin Gilbert both used to be in a band called Toy Matinee with Ms. Crow? Now you do.

17. Eye Of The Beholder--Chick Corea Electric Band (1988) I didn't know what fusion was until I heard this album. Once I let it sink in a bit, I realized that there was more to life than just Yes and Metallica. Unlike earlier Elektric Band efforts, Chick leans more heavily on the acoustic piano, and it pays off on tunes like "Trance Dance" and "Beauty". "Eye Of The Beholder" was the fist latin jazz fusion I'd ever heard--it took me years to figure out where the accents fell on Pattittucci's line during the keyboard solo. I transcribed John's "Trance Dance" bass solo for a project at Berklee, and playing it opened up a huge world of possibilities for me that I never would have known about had I not dove headfirst into this disc. The final track, "Amnesia", fades with the theme from the album's second track, something I'm a huge sucker for. But, more than anything, this is the record that sold me on jazz-fusion in general, and Pattittucci in particular.

18. Tales From The Bulge--Michael Landau (1989?) People had been telling me about this record for years, but I didn't get around to picking it up until 1995. I've been listening to it at least once a week ever since. It contains probably my single favorite guitar-fusion song ever, "Johnny Swing", with Vinnie on drums and Jimmy Johnson on bass flowing underneath Landau's crystal-clear, "alone-on-a-highway" guitar sound. Landau, who I've had the privilege of meeting several times (he likes to both play and party with Toss), is a fucking genius. "I'm Buzzed" proves it. It's nothing but tone, vibe, melody and sparse, gorgeous notes dotting the airy landscape of the tune. It's no wonder that he does as much studio work around LA as he does.

19. Physical Graffiti--Led Zeppelin (1975) You were all probably saying, "Where's the Zeppelin?" Well, I could've put four or five Zep records on this list, but I settled for this one (over Houses Of The Holy and Untitled, to be honest) because of several key songs: "Kashmir", "Custard Pie", "The Rover", "Ten Years Gone", and most importantly, "In My Time Of Dying", my fave Zep tune ever. All you ever needed to know about Zeppelin, you could learn from that one track. I first got this when I was in the 8th grade, and I couldn't believe that all those songs that I liked so much on my classic rock radio station (WPLJ, 95.5, NY, for those of you who remember when that station had an AOR format) were all done by one band, and mostly on one album. Think of it this way--had sides 1 and 2 of Graffiti been released as a single album, the tracks would've been as follows: Side 1-- "Custard Pie", "The Rover", "In My Time Of Dying". Side 2-- "Houses Of The Holy", "Trampled Underfoot", "Kashmir". End of record. For me, this was the artistic peak, if certainly not the live peak, of the best rock band of all time. However, if "The Ocean" and "Black Dog" were on this record, it probably would've made my choice a lot easier.

20. hat--Mike Keneally (1992) I can remember the first time I ever heard this--Keneally brought it over to Joe Travers' apartment several weeks after I joined Z (late '93) and played it for me with a smile on his face, as if he knew I was going to fall in love with it. He was right. You should have seen my fucking face when I heard "Uglytown" for the first time. I wanted to yank the disc out of the CD player and run straight home and start learning it immediately. Of course, the rest is history.

OK, that's it for now. Hope you liked the alternate format of this Act--I just didn't have the stomach for flat-out storytelling this time around. But you'll forgive me, right? Won't you? Thanks for understanding.

All I have to say is, if the New York Knicks beat the Chicago Bulls in this year's NBA conference finals, I'll be the happiest person in the universe. But if they should lose and my book somehow eventually gets finished and published, well, that might begin to make up for it. Go New York go New York go..........................B.B.