There are players who use different instruments for different occasions. For the most part, I'm not one of them. I tend to play one axe and stick with it. Does that mean I only have one bass? No, but let's just say that right now, I'm playing a Mike Lull Custom "Modern 5" strung with D'addario Prisms about 95% of the time.

But we're completists here at bryanbellerdotcom, so feel free to click below and read up on the entire oddball array of basses that make up my, uh, "collection."

Mike Lull Custom "Modern 5"

Behold, my current axe of choice, the Mike Lull Custom "Modern 5" Active 5-String. It's an incredible instrument, and I found it through SWR.

As you may or may not know, I played a Fender Deluxe Active Jazz Bass V for many years, I was happy with it, and I wasn't really looking for a new axe. But when Keneally got a residency at The Baked Potato in Hollywood during the summer of 2000, I was dismayed to find that the venue had terrible quality power, and the Fender was picking up all sorts of noise. It was so loud that the instrument was literally unplayable. Thankfully, the SWR soundroom had plenty of basses hanging on its walls, and the company had recently obtained the very bass you see pictured above. I'd played it several times, found the neck and sound immediately to my liking, and figured I'd try it for one gig.

That gig was a revelation. It reacted like a Fender Jazz, but with more bite and flexibility. The first thing I thought was, "It's a ROCK 5-String." So many premium 5-strings--especially those made with a Fender Jazz sound in mind--have a fusion-y, sweet quality to them. This had just enough of that, but with more "hair" on the note, and more aggressiveness if you got on it hard enough. But if you laid off it a bit, it became crystalline, with the piano "chime" cutting through in all the right ways. It seemed to cover all the bases, even with both pickup volumes wide open all the time. Most importantly, it was dead quiet.

Then the neck.just absolute perfection. I'd gotten used to higher action on the Fender Deluxe V (because of buzzing problems), which meant that I needed the bass to "fight" me a little bit, and perhaps a little bit too much. My technique adjusted accordingly, and soon enough I was mangling basses with lower action. The Mike Lull, however, had it all. Lower action, no buzz (except for that slight bit of "hair" like I mentioned), a tight-as-nails B-string, dead-even all the way up and down the neck, all the way up to the 24th fret. And yet, somehow, it still fought me just enough. Everything became easier, my playing opened up, my thumb became less white, and I was hooked.

I'm a loyalist, and I wasn't sure if I was on crack or not that night until the next time we played at the same venue. (I wasn't; it got better with every gig.) I also wasn't sure I wanted to end my relationship with Fender, a company that had been very good to me back when no one knew who the hell I was. But you have to be honest with yourself, and in early 2001 I officially made the switch.

I did the Keneally "Dancing" tour (May '01) with it, I did Nick D'Virgilio's record with it, I did two Mullmuzzler albums with it, and it'll be on the road with me in Europe and America in late 2001 for more Keneally activity. This bass, for me, right now, is as good as it gets.

Fender Deluxe Jazz Bass V

My main axe: January, 1995--March, 2001.

I was not a Fender guy growing up. They were too big and heavy, and they hurt my poor little hands. I went through an Ibanez Soundgear and then two Alembics before finally settling on a sweet, pre-Gibson Tobias 5-String as my main bass (more on that below). And then it got stolen on December 30, 1994. I was disconsolate, beyond heartbroken.

The following month, Fender's Artist Relations Director Mark Wittenberg called me on a reference from Mike Keneally. He said they were working on prototypes of active basses (big news at the time), and was wondering if I could come down, play them, and give them my honest opinion. For money. Sure, I said, wondering what the catch was.

There was no catch. Mark was an incredibly nice guy. The engineers were also nice guys. There was yet another nice guy in the corner of the room, taking pictures. I sat down and played a variety of instruments, including one red-bodied 5-string jazz, a first-generation prototype of what would become the Deluxe Jazz V. I was in a good mood that day or something, because I felt comfortable playing by myself for twenty minutes in front of a room of complete strangers watching my every move. Some models felt good, some not so good. The red prototype felt really good. After the sweet lightness of the stolen Tobias, the Fender felt big, round, natural. And I said so.

The next five minutes were some of the most crucial of my entire time in Los Angeles. Wittenberg asked me if I had an endorsement deal. I didn't. "Would you like one?" he asked. "Hell, yeah!" I blurted out, glowing.

Then the photographer approached me. He complimented my playing and asked me who I played with. I told him about Z and Mike Keneally. Then he asked me for my name once again; he'd forgotten. I told him and asked him his. His reply: "I'm Jim Roberts, editor of Bass Player Magazine. I'd like to do a story on you."

I almost fell over. At that point in my career, if I'd known that the freaking Editor of Bass Player was going to be watching me do my best Guitar Center licks for twenty minutes, I probably would have had a seizure. As it was, my relationships with Fender and Bass Player both sprang from that fateful day.

My relationship with the bass itself was rocky at first. I decided to keep the red prototype body for myself; I liked the idea that it was one of the originals. The neck, however, needed replacement, and I wanted it thinner anyway. So I worked on a Beller Neck with the Fender Custom Shop for several weeks. It worked great for a few months.and then it turned out we cut it too thin and it began twisting. The third time was the charm.

The sound of that bass live in a club, direct to the house, was just huge. I first strung it with Dean Markley Blue Steels, and then eventually settled on Fender Nickel-Plated Steels. I had to set the action higher than I would have liked to keep the B-string tight, but after a while it grew on me and I learned to appreciate the more macho aspects of it (my hand strength grew significantly).

I used it on pretty much everything between '95 and '00, and Keneally bootleg audience recordings confirmed my suspicions about the hugeness of its sound in the house. It always felt like my bass and my sound, and I was always excited to pick it up. But aside from Keneally's Half Alive In Hollywood, I never really could get it to speak in the studio, and ended up using an MTD or a Tobias (from SWR's plentiful collection) on tracks where a more "hi-fi" sound was required.

In 2000 I picked up a gig with a pop artist, and we did a series of high-profile one-offs around the country. Lighting was a bigger factor than ever before, and it was sending the Fender's single-coil pickups into noise hell. Front-of-house engineers were giving me "the look." Not good. So I swapped out the stock pickups for the new Fender "Noiseless" models, which helped reduce the noise.but it subtracted something subtle yet defining from the tone. Something in the midrange was missing. Right around then I stumbled upon the Mike Lull, and the rest is history.

I don't want to put out the wrong idea. When this bass was my main axe, nothing else I picked up sounded as good or felt as right in my hands. And Fender was nothing but great to me, better than they had to be. But over time, you change and grow. If you want to be crude, call it a seven-year-itch. If you want to be classy, say the Mike Lull stole my heart.

One thing's for sure--I will never sell this instrument. I even still have the second neck. The serial number was BB002. Now that's cool. UPDATE: OK, nothing's "for sure" because I did sell this bass in November of 2004, but it was for a good cause; every penny went to the Webmistress Katy Towell, who was viciously burglarized that month and was very grateful to the buyer (you know who you are). Let's say that I never would have sold it just to pocket a few extra bucks, but this was a special circumstance.

Finally, on a serious note: just days after I did the '95 deal, Fender's Artist Relations Director Mark Wittenberg, the man who made it all happen, tragically passed away from a brain tumor. Everyone who knew him loved him, and not only do I wish I got to know him better, but I owe him a serious debt of gratitude that I can only repay by not forgetting to mention him when thinking about some of the luck and success I've had in my career. Rest in peace, and thank you.

Fender '51 Precision Re-Issue

After I signed with Fender in January of 1995, they offered me an opportunity to acquire a second instrument to complement the Deluxe Jazz V. I was young and dumb, and asked for something completely impractical.

I stumbled upon a '51 Re-Issue during a visit to the Fender Custom Shop, and I was wowed by the oddity of it, especially the gigantic chrome pickup and bridge guards. It played nice enough, but I was no student of Fender history, I had no idea of what P-Basses and J-Basses were for, and I just wanted something weird yet familiar. So I told them that I wanted a '51 Re-Issue, but with a P/J pickup configuration. And I wanted it turquoise and black, like a '57 Chevy Bel-Air.

The color scheme they understood. They asked what kind of turquoise I wanted, and unable to express myself coherently, I pointed at the handle of a Mikita power drill and said, "That." Thus the informal name for this beast was coined: "The Mikitacaster."

The addition of a J-pickup caused raised eyebrows. "You sure?" they asked, scratching their chins. I had no concept of how cool the original Precision sound could be and no idea what I'd use it on even if I did. The ignorance shocks me to this day.

The instrument itself sounds pretty good. It's equipped with two dual concentric controls for each pickup, tone and volume. With everything wide open it sounds like a confused P-Bass, which is what it is. But if I back off the J-pickup about 25%, a nice, growling P-Bass tone comes out. I was even on the verge of making it my main axe with Z in early 1996--we were taking a more punk, angry turn--before the band essentially broke up. It's useless for most of the Keneally stuff, save "TRANQUILLADO" and "Ankle Bracelet" in live settings. I did have some fun playing "Vent" with it, as it somehow made a Boss Bass Overdrive pedal sound decent.

But the neck is wonderful, it plays great, the sound is solid, and the thing is durable. It took a forceful, nasty tumble during the infamous "L.A. Riot" show at Bourbon Square in January of 1996 (see Act 5 of The Life Of Bryan for the blow-by-blow). The next day I found a nice crack, about four inches long, running down the side of the back of the body. It still works fine.

And, for better or for worse, it certainly is unique.

Taylor AB-4 Acoustic Bass

What a privilege it is to even own this instrument.

I got this in conjunction with my signing on as a Taylor clinician in early 2001, but I'd owned a similar model, the Taylor AB-1 since 1995 and just absolutely adored it. That being said, I love this one even more.

It has all the qualities I originally admired in the AB-1--the warmth, the natural acoustic overtones, the projection, the quality of tone at the ¼" output--but the AB-4 has a maple top, while the AB-1 is spruce. Maple is brighter, and since the instrument design itself provides as much bottom and warmth as you can imagine, I appreciated the difference in clarity and high-end transients.

Like the AB-1, I boost the bass control about halfway and cut the treble about halfway. I used it exclusively on the Taylor Clinic Tour with Keneally in March of '01, and during clinics in the midst of the MK/BFD "Dancing" Tour in May of that same year. Plugged into an SWR California Blonde Acoustic Amplifier, or just run directly into a mixing board from the ¼" output, the sound is huge, natural, breathtaking.and inspiring. The only song I've ever written--the solo bass instrumental "No"--was written on the Taylor AB-4.

And with the impending release of Keneally's acoustic-flavored new album "Wooden Smoke" in early 2002, you'll probably be seeing more of this instrument in the future.

MTD Swamp Ash American 535

OK, so I don't really own this bass--SWR does. But ever since my original Tobias Lacewood Basic 5-string got stolen back in 1994, it's the next best thing.

During the majority of my professional career in Los Angeles, instruments made by Michael Tobias have been my "recording basses." Whenever I was looking for a clean, sweet, non-affected tone that represented what I wanted to hear on one of my tracks, I reached for a Tobias. My original Tobias can be heard on the early Z tracks, as well as on Keneally's Boil That Dust Speck. (I still regard the sound on "My Dilemma" as the best clean sound I ever got to tape.) After it was stolen, I used two different SWR pre-Gibson Tobias Classic models on recordings from Keneally's Sluggo! to Steve Vai's The Ultra Zone. But nothing has come as close to capturing the sound of that original Tobias as has the MTD (Michael Tobias Design) American 535, made of Swamp Ash as pictured here.

The MTD's in general are a bit darker sounding than the original Tobias models, but I think that adds to their overall roundness. This is a good thing, since they've always been as bright as you could ever want, and provided plenty of stellar "piano chime." Thanks to my years playing the Fender Deluxe Jazz V, it's still not a practical live bass for me because it plays too easily. In other words, when the adrenaline starts flowing, I just start to mangle the thing, especially with my right hand. It reacts best with proper technique under controlled circumstances. In those instances, the spectrum of frequencies accurately reflected by this bass is simply awe-inspiring.

Practically all of Mike Keneally's Dancing was recorded with this bass. This was all before the days of the Mike Lull, however. Frankly I see a place for both in future studio applications, depending on the tune. And when I have a couple thousand bucks to spare, I'll get an MTD of my own.

Tobias Lacewood Basic 5-String (M.I.A. 12/30/94)

The love of my early life as a bassist.and gone without a trace. She was gorgeous, wasn't she?

I'd been struggling with a pair of Alembics during my time at Berklee College Of Music, and I felt I hadn't yet found an instrument that really spoke to me. Tobias basses, at that time, weren't easy to find--or even know about--on the east coast. Honestly I can't remember what turned me on to them, but I remember making a call to their office in L.A. and being referred to a guy named Paul Slagle, who owned a collection of seven Tobias basses and was looking to offload one or two.

It was 1992, and I was seriously considering moving to L.A. after Berklee, but I'd never even visited. So I made a short trip out with two objectives: check out the bass, check out Los Angeles. The bass floored me--finally, a 5-String with the right string spacing, an even neck, really low action and incredible tone--and I bought it right away. (Los Angeles.didn't floor me. I left having made up my mind that I was staying on the east coast. Ha.)

The Tobias was the easiest-playing instrument I ever owned. I could almost, as they say, "shred" on it. I did my Berklee Senior Recital with it, and played it on countless gigs around town with the blues band I was in at the time, 100 Proof. But its true worth was illuminated in the summer of 1993, when Dweezil Zappa called me for the fateful audition that landed me in Z and brought me back to the town I'd decided not to live in. The audition material was so technically challenging that, if I hadn't had that bass in my hands, I probably wouldn't have pulled it off. (Specifically I'm referring to "Purple Guitar", the nine-minute, lick-infested instrumental nightmare now available on Dweezil Zappa's Automatic.)

It was the bass I used on the Conan O'Brien show appearance in March of 1994, and the subsequent American Z tour as well. I played it in the Keneally rehearsal of late '94 that convinced him I might be able to be his bassist after all. I specifically remember the last time I ever played it, on December 16, 1994, for a Mike Keneally in-store appearance/concert at music retailer Heavy Rotation in Studio City, CA. My hands were literally flying up and down the neck, playing impossibly fast passages (such as the original version of Keneally's "Cheddar") with startling ease. It was my instrument.

On December 30, 1994, my sister Marcy was out visiting me, and we went up into the Angeles National Forest for a mountain drive. Upon our return at 4:30 that afternoon, I noticed that the front door to my apartment was ajar, and the door frame slightly damaged. I rushed inside and found the stand with the Tobias usually on it empty, my collection of over 200 CD's gone from their racks, and my roommate's computer missing. My sister's bookbag, containing a notebook of her poetry dating back five years, was also gone, and she broke into sobs.

Enraged, I flew back out into the hallway and began screaming and kicking things. Neighbors came out, and I explained to them what had happened. One of them told me that a tattooed, multi-pierced maintenance worker for the apartment complex, dressed in official clothing, was just in my apartment not less than ten minutes prior, wheeling a garbage can on a dolly. I had given no permission for any such activity. Someone else said that they'd just seen him frantically loading white garbage bags into a car in the underground parking lot. The same worker, I instantly realized, had been in my bedroom fixing a broken window screen a few weeks back. I searched the parking lot. He was gone.

I called the police and ran to the complex's main office. The management was new, only five days old. I told them the story. They then told me that they'd fired him three days ago. And that he still lived in the complex.

Within two hours, the whole place was crawling with cops. It was quickly determined that the entry was not forced, that a key was used, and that whatever damage there was to the door frame was a cover-up because if the entry had been forced, the damage would have been much worse. The suspect's name was Christian Briggs. He wasn't home. His roommate was questioned but offered nothing helpful.

After lambasting the management office for negligence and utter incompetence--they could have at least taken his uniform back!--I found out more. He was caught stealing by a previous manager and had been written up. Strong allegations of drug use and drug dealing were being made by tenants, with the former apartment manager being mentioned as well. For four nights in a row, I waited around the corner from his apartment with the back half of a pool cue in my hand, but he never showed.

A week later, a security guard apprehended him as he returned home. He was jailed temporarily and released on bond, never returning to the apartment complex. He refused to give any information on where the instrument might be, and pleaded innocent. I searched the pawn shops around the San Fernando Valley, but came up empty. There was a trial, in which several tenants and the new management testified as witnesses on behalf of myself and Los Angeles County. Briggs' defense: he was simply taking out the garbage, even though he lived on the other end of the complex and there was a different dumpster closer to his unit. He denied having entered my apartment and said he wore the uniform because that was what he wore that day. Verdict: Not guilty. After O.J., I could hardly profess to be shocked.

A civil case would have been a different story, but it never got that far. I turned all the information I had over to my uncle, a terrifying man with years of experience in bringing corporate entities who'd wronged him to their check-writing knees. Within two weeks of the incident, a settlement was reached between myself and the owner of the apartment complex, and my financial losses were recovered in sum. Unfortunately for me, Gibson bought Tobias in 1993, and Michael Tobias no longer made the instruments himself. I ordered an exact replica of the stolen axe, right down to the letter, and when I finally received it and played it, it just wasn't the same thing. It didn't sound right, it didn't play right, it wasn't right. Unable to bear even looking at it, I sold it at a loss just months after I got it. The original, despite a "Police Blotter" mention in Bass Player, was never recovered.

Financially I came out whole. But the loss of this instrument, the bass that got me where I am today, is one from which I'll never fully recover. Lastly, a message to Christian Briggs, wherever he is today: You dirty, fucking, lying speed-freak, I've got the back half of a pool cue with your worthless name on it.

Peavey Axcelerator 5-String

Dweezil Zappa has long been a big Peavey enthusiast. And why not? The Classic 50 is one of the most underrated pro-quality Fender Twin knockoffs ever made, and it's loud as hell. And once Peavey began doing the 5150 line of guitars and amps with Eddie Van Halen--Dweezil's idol--he was on board from the word "go."

Peavey flew Z to Frankfurt, Germany in 1994 to play the MusikMesse (Europe's version of the NAMM show), and Peavey being Peavey, they were awfully generous. I walked away with a killer Peavey/5150 hockey jersey, and a promise to send me a brand new Axcelerator 5-string, free of charge. Hot damn!

It's a fine instrument. Decent rock tone, eminently playable, and you can't beat purple. I used it on several of the better-sounding Music For Pets tracks, including "Badass", "Based On A True Story" and "Enigma." I eventually put EMG's in it, which made it sound like it had EMG's in it. I certainly would never make it my main axe--and I think Peavey only made it for a couple of years--but I'm not ashamed to have it.

Peavey as a company obviously has a stigma about it, only partially deserved. I personally have never been a big fan of their bass amplifiers and speaker cabinets. But every once in a while they put out something really cool, like their DPC1000 Digital Power Amp, an anchor of my live rig for years. One thing's for sure--you can't argue with their business model.

Mike Lull Custom "Modern 5" Fretless

D'addario Prism PSS60-5 Long Scale Stainless Steel Strings

These things are the bee's knees, and not just because an old SWR buddy of mine is the Artist Relations guy there nowadays. Really.

I started out as a super-bright stainless steel guy back in the early days, when I was endorsing Dean Markley Blue Steels for a while. But that fell through in a big way (Act 27, Part 1 of the Life Of Bryan tells the story in gruesome detail), and since I was playing Fender basses, I began using Fender strings. I found that I preferred nickel-plated steels on the Fender Deluxe Jazz V, and since brightness wasn't the primary concern, and Fender stocked a fine nickel-steel alloy, I was perfectly satisfied from a live perspective.

But for the Keneally Dancing sessions, I wanted that "My Dilemma" tone back, plus the opportunity to improve on it. I was bringing the MTD American 535 down to San Diego, I was late as hell for the session, and I suddenly realized that I only had the nickel-plated steels for strings. And that wouldn't do. I wanted sparkle.

I pulled into the Guitar Center in San Marcos and, with time ticking, asked the accessories guy to give me four of the brightest 5-string sets--with a tapered B-string--that he had in stock. He yanked the Prisms off the rack and said, "These are it."

He was right. They were remarkably bright, and chimed like crazy. The high-end transients came through in all the ways I'd hoped. They worked great for the whole session, and I couldn't be happier with the bass sound from that record. Months later, when I went officially with Mike Lull and slapped a set on that bass, they shone once again. When my SWR buddy (no, you can't have his name) started working at D'addario, it was obvious what I needed to do. I now fully endorse the Prisms and use them for everything I pluck, slap, pop or pick.