Tom Hamilton and his long-time Aerosmith mates (Steven Tyler, vocals; Joe Perry and Brad Whitford, guitars; and Joey Kramer, drums) have chosen Plan B, and if ticket sales are any indication, it’s been the right choice all along. The band’s catalog includes enough all-time rock & roll hits to fill out a set list and then some, but Aerosmith continues to produce radio-ready hits with alarming frequency. Yet the band insists on such adventures as 2004’s Honkin’ on Bobo, an entire disc of blues tunes that surprised everyone—especially Aerosmith—by entrenching itself on the blues charts. And while plenty of fans would show up every night to hear Hamilton’s righteous “Walk This Way” and “Sweet Emotion” grooves, the mellow, soft-spoken bassist insists on a rigid daily practice routine to push his playing in new directions.

The set list for the new live album, Rockin’ the Joint, is a real treat for serious fans. How did you settle on those songs?
We’d been wanting to work with Dick Carruthers, the rock & roll documentary filmmaker, so we decided to film and record three shows: one at The Joint [at Las Vegas’s Hard Rock Hotel & Casino] and two arena shows in California. When we got to Vegas and were picking songs, we realized we could take some chances. If they came out well, we’d have them on tape—and if they were bad, well, we’d only screwed up in front of 1,500 people. So we brought out “Seasons of Wither,” “No More No More,” and a song called “Rattlesnake Shake.”

I’m glad you mentioned that song. It’s almost the perfect cover tune for Aerosmith.
Yes, that song is like the Rosetta Stone of this band’s style. A lot of people don’t know that Fleetwood Mac was a kick-ass blues-rock band back in the ’60s, but I always like to point that out. Joe and I used to meet at this underground club called the Boston Tea Party and see them play, and I’ll never forget their amp line. It was a solid wall of Fender Showman amps; it was just so unbelievably cool-looking to a couple of teenage kids who were still saving up to buy their first good amplifier.

Anyway, they had an album called Then Play On, and “Rattlesnake Shake” is on there, followed by this fast boogie jam called “Searching for Madge.” I don’t know if they meant those two songs to always be associated with each other, but for Joe and me, it was all one big, long song. Whenever we’d see them live, they’d play “Rattlesnake Shake,” and they always did a real good job of explaining the song’s subject matter. I’m not sure many people realize what it’s about, but whenever they’d get to the part where the band stops, and you hear a maraca shaking, Mick Fleetwood—who used to have hair down to his ass—would jump up from behind the drums and show these two wooden balls hanging from his belt on a piece of rawhide. He’d hook his finger in there and, you know, pretend he was stabbing a duck in his lap [laughs]. It was hilarious, and we thought, Oh, my God, that is so cool! So you can see we’ve always loved that song. In fact, Joe and I used to play it in bands two or three years before Aerosmith got together. Now we almost feel like it’s ours!

It’s surprising how many Aerosmith songs, old and new, work so well in large and small settings. What do you think gives a song this power, regardless of the setting?
A lot of it is dynamics, and making sure you have parts where tension builds and parts where it all just spills over. It’s a classic paradigm of hard rock music, really: songs that start out quiet and dreamy, and then the big part everybody loves comes crashing in. That’s when everybody starts putting up the devil sign and making that face you make with your lips poking out when something sounds very, very cool.

At what point did you begin to realize you could be in a band that makes people feel like that?
I know exactly when it happened. I remember seeing Spirit at the Boston Tea Party, watching their bass player—who just happened to be a tall blond guy—and saying to myself, “You know, I could do that.” I remember having the distinct feeling that I could. That was really big for me, because as much as I loved music, and as much time as I’d spent learning how to play, I also had the typical disbelief that I could really do things the way my heroes were doing them. The common wisdom is still that your chances of doing that and ever making a living at it are practically nil, and I bought into that as a teenager. At least I did until that moment, at that show, that night—when I saw that bass player and realized, Wow, there’s no reason I can’t play that role.

Did Aerosmith click right away?
We have a great combination that’s been there from day one. Joe and I used to play in bands together when we were teenagers, and all we wanted to do was play the loudest, fastest songs we possibly could. We didn’t know how to play with dynamics, and our guitars were probably barely in tune. So we were pretty rough in terms of music theory and harmony. We played at this club called the Barn, and Steven’s bands played there, too. But while we’d just get up there and blast away—and the audience would go nuts—we’d check out Steven’s bands, and these were professional, polished, musically capable groups. I remember seeing one of Steven’s bands up at this ski lodge in New Hampshire, and they had the clothes, the cool guitars, the haircuts, and they were all killer singers and musicians. Watching a band do three-part harmonies you could actually hear was just great, and pretty rare back then.

So when Steven burned out with those bands, and Joe and I were out of high school and wanted to move to Boston and take a stab at it, it was clear that we were a good setup for Steven, and he was a good setup for us. He brought his talent and his knowledge and combined it with our energy—and we came up with something cool, something that really pounded away, but that also had real music in it.

Do you think that combination of Steven’s musical outlook and your and Joe’s energy is still a part of the band?
Very much so, and it’s funny, because I now see those elements were in conflict even back then. We’d be playing a song, just blasting away, and Steven would yell, “Do you guys happen to remember that there’s a singer in this band? Can you even hear the vocals?!” And so we’d learn. He told us, “Do me a favor: In the verses, play quiet; in the lead breaks, play loud!” And we were like, “Whoa!” [Laughs.] So he really taught us a lot about how to groove, how to cook, which is the word we used back then.

It’s a potent blend, but it has led to friction now and then. There were times it seemed you were either destined for greatness or about to implode.
Sure, we had a bunch of close calls, and we didn’t really know where we were headed back then. When we first started out, we didn’t have our own songs, so we covered the music of the bands that excited us: Ten Years After, Yardbirds, all blues-rock-based bands. But Boston didn’t have any clubs where you could play underground music at the time. If you wanted a job in a club in Boston, you had to play Top 40, five sets a night. But we just refused to do that. We wanted to do shows that were like concerts, so we wound up playing a lot of high school gyms. That way we could play whatever we wanted, and the people could dance their asses off. One of the best gigs we had was over at the Navy base. We used to play the Officers’ Club, and it was like one of those movies with the Three Stooges going to a fancy party. They’d set us up at a big table in the kitchen and give us a full roast beef dinner—the ultimate meal for us back then, when we were living hand-to-mouth—and then we’d go out and blast away our hard rock songs. And all these Navy people would go absolutely bonkers. It was really cool.

What’s your pre-show routine these days?
I’ve had a pretty good routine going for a few years now. I’ve got a nice little Ampeg amp in my dressing room, and one of those AKG Bug wireless things, which I absolutely love. Joey and I always play a lot of James Brown before shows to get ready. It’s great music to jam on because it’s got a lot of energy, and it’s very groove-based. It’s good for us to just settle into that music and get calibrated before we go on.

If we don’t go that route, I’ll just turn on my computer and open up Logic, which I’m having a lot of fun using these days. I’ll plug into my computer with headphones on and work on whatever practice ideas and warm-ups I need at the moment. I’ve got a lot of riff-based music on my computer, so I’ll jam with different bits to get dialed in.

I don’t suppose you need to run through the night’s set list.
At this point, we really shouldn’t have to do that [laughs]. But Joey and I and Brad are sort of the foundation, so when Joe says something like, “Hey, let’s play ‘Kings and Queens,’” we do run through it together, just to avoid getting tongue-tied somewhere in the middle.

When you recorded Honkin’ on Bobo, did you have any idea it would still be on the blues charts a year later?
I did not even know it was on the blues charts. [Long pause.] That blows my mind. That means real blues fans are listening to it. I mean, we never intended to come out and say, “We’re like Robert Johnson now.” We know we’re not; we’re suburban white kids. But we did work really hard on putting those rhythmic feels across, on getting the right atmosphere, and then putting our rock thing on top of it. So we’re proud that we can hold our own, without officially claiming to be a blues band.

Your playing on that record sounds like you gave it some real thought, like you carefully considered each part in order to get it right.
I wanted to work on my walking style because I’ve always felt that I’m kind of weak in that area. And I felt that some of my playing habits, especially where on the fretboard I play certain chord progressions, needed more variety. So I was looking at those two things, specifically. In the studio, if we finished a song early, we’d just pick another out of the hat and start recording that one, too. And I remember thinking several times, Hey, wait, let’s take a day to school on this, come up with some ideas, and record it tomorrow. But the momentum was already there, and the band would say, “Naw, we don’t wanna wait—let’s go!” So I had to really focus myself in order to feel spontaneous and yet still support the song. Even now, I listen back and wish I’d had an extra day on some of those songs—but what came out of those sessions is pretty good overall, and I’m proud of it.

Tell us about playing with Joey Kramer.
He’s just so strong. Joey’s drumming is really something you can sit on. And over the last few years, especially, he’s really taken a step forward with his time and his pocket. But you can still always tell what beat Joey’s playing [laughs]. He hits and he kicks so hard. And of course, I’m just really used to playing with him.

When Aerosmith gets going, everyone plays pretty hard. It’s like one big rhythm section.
This whole band is very rhythmically oriented. Back when we first put the band together with Steven, he said, “You guys need to learn how to cook.” We knew how to play fast, and play with energy and go nuts—but refining that energy so we could create real grooves, that was something Steven brought to the table. We spent a lot of time practicing playing something with a really good feel, and yeah, we’re still very much oriented that way.

I’m always thinking, Man, I need to be more harmonically interesting and riffy, but then it comes back around to the fundamentals, which can mean thinking of the bass as a kind of drum.

That viewpoint explains a lot about your playing.
It often comes down to the cerebral versus the physical—and I like cerebral music, but I gotta have a good song. I can’t listen to a bass player in the context of an ordinary song and enjoy it just because he’s a good bass player. I have to hear things in the context of a good song first.

I remember when I was a teenager; it was the psychedelic ’60s, and there was this explosion of new, weird music. One of my favorite bands was Cream. I saw them twice. The first time was in a small club in Boston with 50 or 60 people in the audience, and I just sat against a pole and took it all in. I couldn’t believe they had amplifiers that were taller than they were! It was the first time I ever saw Marshall stacks, and the whole thing was an amazing experience. But the next time I saw them, they were playing this big hall. They got there late, and sure enough, the third song was “Spoonful,” and they played it for like 45 minutes. I was like, Holy shit—I can’t believe they’re just going to jam. It really turned me off. I’ve never been one to go hear a band just jam. It’s just not my thing.

How often do you play bass when Aerosmith isn’t gearing up to record or tour?
Every day.

Really?
Oh, yeah, no question. I’m always working on some aspect of my playing. I always feel like I’m behind where I should be. I’ve even started taking lessons with a guy at Berklee [College of Music] who is a real groove guy. I’m working on left-hand muting at the moment. It’s a blast to play that way, and even though it’s hard for me to incorporate that style into our live show—because I’d have to be able to hear myself really well—I plan to make use of the technique in the studio. I’ve already recorded a bunch of riffs in that style. When I get back to my room after a gig, I turn on my computer and pick up this Alan Tomkins bass I absolutely love, and I play for a little while to wind down. On days off, I fool around even more with the software and my other gear, just having fun experimenting.

How do you think your tone has changed over the years?
I don’t think it’s changed enough. It’s been my mission for the last year or so to add more flavor to my playing and my tone. I’ve never really buckled down and designed a tone that’s mine. Sure, I do a bit each time we record to get a sound I like, but the next time we record, I plan on having much more variety in my tone. And I might not settle on one sound; I think I’ll be able to say more, style-wise, while staying within my role if I experiment more with my tone.

Many players will be surprised to hear you say you don’t have a distinctive tone.
That’s funny, but I’ll give you an example. When we remixed “Walk This Way” in surround sound, I could hear much more of the bass tone—for the first time, really. And it was weird; it was like a flashback to that day we recorded it. But I can hear my fingers, especially during the tag at the end, and it drives me nuts. It’s all I hear now, that and the notes that are out of time. People I’ve told say, “Yeah, but that’s what you sound like, and it’s cool.” And I’m like, “What?!”

In addition to the Alan Tomkins bass, what instruments do you have with you on the road right now?
Right now I’m using my Sadowskys, especially this really nice red one Roger [Sadowsky] made me. It’s like an old Tele Bass, but it’s got a carbon-fiber pickguard instead of the black Bakelite. And I’m using my Sadowsky 5-string, which is one of the most incredible-sounding basses ever. The thing sounds like a dinosaur eating cars!

Ten years ago, you were just starting out on the 5-string, but now it’s really become part of your arsenal. Some of your parts are actually written around it.
It’s true—if you’re playing a 5-string, you do find yourself looking for those low D’s, and maybe even a low C or B now and then. I don’t use it for more than three or four songs a night, though. I’m getting back into the frame of mind that has the bass as a 4-string instrument. But that Sadowsky has so much power to its tone that I have to pull it out now and then. It just beats everything.

Any other basses showing up onstage these days?
Yes, another cool bass I’m playing is made by F Bass up in Hamilton, Ontario. I bought my first one when we were recording Get a Grip in 1992, and I used it for the whole record. And then a couple years ago, they made me this unbelievably rich, blue bass with a maple neck. The thing just has so much tone that it’s an absolute blast to play. So it’s become one of my regulars.

You seem to change amps less often, but there’s definitely something different going on back there.
Ampeg made me this backline setup that is so cool. I’ve been using Gallien-Krueger heads and Hartke speakers for a really long time, but I got into this mode where I wanted to change my flavor a little. It’s not because I wasn’t diggin’ that other equipment anymore—because I still love it—but I wanted to see what was going on with Ampeg. I mean, when I was a kid I had a B-18! So they sent me an SVT-5PRO head, and I was just knocked out by how much tone it has. Next they made me these custom cabinets that are new, but are covered with that old material they used to use on the B-18, and they put the heads in these bizarre old-style cases with the tubes exposed. I’ve got two of those rigs now, and I get inspired just looking at the setup.

Somewhere out there each night there’s a teenager getting inspired, too.
You know, I actually think about that. I sometimes wonder how many kids are out there groovin’ on the gear the way I did. Most days it doesn’t really look like there are that many, but they’re there!

Just like you were at those early Cream shows.
You know what was so cool about that music? I think that was the beginning of the amplifier as a musical instrument. Up until then, there were cool amps and cool gear, but they were all for taking one sound and making it louder. But all of a sudden you had these British guitar players mixing feedback and distortion into their sound, and the amp-lifier really became part of the instrument.

Eleven years ago in Bass Player, you said, “I feel like I’ve had to fight for every bit of musical progress I’ve made.” Do you still feel this way?
Yes! I do feel like I’ve taken it up a notch lately, though. First, I was forced to re-examine my style when I started getting tendinitis. When we were rehearsing for Just Push Play in 2001—which is kind of our Pro Tools album—I spent a lot of time recording myself in Pro Tools and just practicing, taking one part and playing it and playing it and playing it. But I wasn’t smart about it; I was playing way too hard, and with my right hand in a bad position. Plus, I played with a pick a lot on that record without considering how playing with a pick utilizes your muscles differently than playing with your fingers does. So I ended up with a wicked case of tendinitis.

And then, a couple of years ago, the tendons in the top of my right wrist started getting sore. I come from an era when guitar amps got louder pretty quickly but bass amps didn’t, so I’d always been struggling to hear myself as I just pounded away. And I finally had to take a look at all that, because, A, it was painful and I was wearing out my fingers and my wrist, and B, it dawned on me that I could actually get better tone if I didn’t play quite so hard.

You always have leaned pretty heavily on your right hand.
That’s exactly it. Over the last year or so, it’s gradually dawned on me that I’ve always de-emphasized my fretting hand. I finally realized that my left hand was keeping up, but it wasn’t doing what it could do to create more expression in my playing. My answer over the years was always to try to dig out the tone in each note with my right hand. It’s been only relatively recently that I’ve been enjoying the range—and the amount—of tone I can get by emphasizing my fretting.

So it was a combination of teaching myself to play lighter because of the tendinitis, and then understanding that playing lighter makes the way you fret that much more important. It’s actually been really fun. Obviously it’s much better for me physically, but also it’s made me think about my playing from another angle—and every time you do that, you come up with new ideas.