While most of us bassists have marveled at Pino Palladino’s keenly kinetic playing from afar, drummer Steve Jordan has had a unique, up-close view. The pair met in the mid ’80s when Pino was redefining fretless bass with artists like Paul Young, Tears For Fears, and Don Henley (both played on Henley’s End of the Innocence album). Striking up a fast friendship, they began jamming and writing together at Jordan’s New York City loft.

Their first collaboration was an unreleased Tom Jones CD. Later, Jordan was on the session for B.B. King’s 1997 duets CD Deuces Wild, the same date where singer D’Angelo first heard Pino in his second incarnation—playing a flatwound-strung fretted Fender Precision—and decided to use Pino’s big, behind-the-beat bass to help cast a neo-soul spell on his Grammy-winning Voodoo.

It took a freak natural disaster and a young, Connecticut-born singer/songwriter/guitarist, however, to finally shine the spotlight on the Palladino-Jordan hookup. NBC’s January 2005 live concert benefiting the Indian Ocean tsunami victims featured the debut of the John Mayer Trio. As Mayer, Jordan, and Palladino launched into a ripping cover of Jimi Hendrix’s “Bold as Love,” a new rhythm section sensibility was born, further cemented by the trio’s live CD, Try! Raw, retro, and rocking—but with a deep rhythm & blues core and a song-savvy sensibility—the JMT drew from musical strains old and new, tying them together into a neat little state-of-the-art package. The trio upholds that ethic on Mayer’s new studio disc, Continuum. Though the focus is more on the frontman’s funky pop gems and bittersweet backbeat ballads, Palladino and Jordan (who also co-produced) are no less impressive in their restraint and single-minded commitment to the song and the groove.

From Jordan’s perspective, the bottom couldn’t be in better hands. “Pino is incredible on so many different levels: as a musician, composer, arranger, and as someone with an overall view of a song and ears that hear everything. That all goes into his amazing bass playing. But what sets him apart from other bass heavies is his taste. I’ve never heard him play a bad idea! Even the very best players sometimes go for something that’s not really happening, but not Pino. The first idea he comes up with is always great—and just when you think the part couldn’t be more fitting, he comes up with something better. Stylistically, he’s the complete package; the depth of his funk is ridiculous, and then he’ll turn around and play the most melodic thing you’ve ever heard. From the first time we got together I’ve never had to think about or say anything. We just play.”

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, renowned rock guitarist Pete Townshend lined up Pino for another world tour with the Who and its first recording of new material in 24 years. The Who’s Wire & Glass: Six Songs from a Mini-Opera finds Palladino in hard rock overdrive, adding yet another dimension to his low-end majesty.

How did you come to play with John Mayer?

Steve Jordan called me to ask if I could do the tsunami telethon with John and him. They had done some recording with Willie Weeks, but he wasn’t able to make the telethon because of previously booked dates with Greg Allman. I liked what I’d heard of John’s music, and I had three days open, so I headed to New York. We got to the rehearsal studio and went straight into “Bold As Love.” The chemistry was so strong we decided to go right into the studio after the telethon to record the song, which we did. At that point John said, “Wouldn’t it be great to do a trio tour?” We agreed, not quite sure he could make it happen, but within a few months he had the dates and a live CD plan together.

How did you approach the trio musically?

Well, when we got to the week of rehearsals before the tour, we realized we didn’t have nearly a set worth of material, so we started jamming. One of us would set up a groove and we’d all follow whoever took it from there. “Vultures,” “Good Love Is On the Way,” and “Try” came out of that. At the same time, John was getting the trio sound in his head, so he’d come back each morning with a song—he’s very prolific. Bass-wise, I’d had some trio experience touring with Jeff Beck and I’d learned how to fill up space with the Who, but here my concept was to just play with Steve and really lock up the bass and drums. I was much more economical than I am with the Who. I felt if we laid it down strong, I wouldn’t really have to cover too much space or harmony when John took a solo.

What was your bass concept on Mayer’sstudio recording, Continuum?

It was a whole other approach than the live trio, even on the two tunes we re-cut from Try! [“Vultures” and Gravity”]. It wasn’t so much changing the bass lines as getting into a different headspace. Obviously, when I was younger it was all about learning my chops, but for me now it’s about the whole craft of playing the right thing for a song and making it sound as good as it can. John’s CD is a collection of great songs that stand up on their own, so you don’t really have to work too hard—just support the songs. In most cases I played the first thing that came into my head and maybe refined it as we went along, and John was happy with that. A few times he’d ask me to try an idea or use a specific passing tone going to a chord.

How do you find that just-right part?

It’s instinctive; when you hear a great song you get an idea of what it needs in the bass line. I think most players have that ability deep down, but it’s a matter of having the confidence to not overplay, to not have an ego that says I have to put my stamp on the track—instead, just trying to fit into the song. When you’re playing along with a song, there’s a point where you say, Yeah, this is the right thing to do, and it just feels right. In that scenario it’s almost always a matter of coming from a place of economy: playing less and adding as needed, as opposed to being busy and having to cut back. The song itself is what’s going to make a track happen, and the less you can do to make it work, the better. I like that kind of Zen approach: If I can play one note and make the song work, I’m happy to do that. By the same token, if the drum beat is really grooving and it needs more from the bass, then I’ll obviously go for something more adventurous.

Steve Jordan talks about your contrasting deep funk and melodic sides. Can you offer any insight into your methods?

When I play I’m really inside the part; I’ve got my eyes closed, and if someone came and bumped into me it would take me a couple of seconds to snap out of it. I’ve noticed when I’m deep in a part and I open my eyes after we’ve done the take, it takes me a moment to come back to the real world. From the funk side, it’s all about that for me: letting myself play what my instincts tell me, and getting a hypnotic groove going. Of all my influences, I would say what’s always in the back of my mind is early Stevie Wonder, like Talking Book and Innervisions; that music is really in my blood. On the melodic side, my fretless experience certainly gives me confidence to step up, but my first instinct nowadays is bass. So when John would ask me to try something melodic in a few instances on his CD, I’d have to pause to get in that mindframe and try to come up with something memorable over the chord changes. Plus, I always try to phrase vocally when I’m playing a fill.

What’s the story behind you and Willie Weeks playing together on “I Don’t Trust Myself (With Loving You)”?

The day after the tsunami concert, Willie was coming to the studio to play on John’s CD. I was still in town, so Steve Jordan said I should come by and say “hi” to Willie. I’d met him a few times before, and he always makes a point to tell me he was in [New York music store] Sam Ash on 48th Street the day I bought my fretless Music Man in 1981. Anyway, I went to hang out and we all sat around talking, and Steve said, “This is crazy—you’re both here, so we should get two basses on something.” John came in and showed us “Trust.” So I said to Willie, “Whatever way you want to do it, you can take the business end and I’ll take the dusty end, and we’ll stay out of each other’s way.” Willie went into the room first and started playing the form to get the root notes for himself. I followed, plugged in, and just started marking out the chord changes with sliding 10ths, Larry Graham-style; then I added some pops at the end of the phrases. [See Lesson, page 46.] Steve was setting up and he said, “That’s it—that’s the vibe of the song.” John dug it, too, so we cut it in a couple of passes. It was such a buzz watching Willie play; I was like, I’m playing with Willie Weeks! What’s going on here?

Let’s turn to the Who: How has the gig changed for you since plunging in, back in 2002, and what do you like most about it?

Well, for one thing, I’m not scared anymore [laughs]. It was a little daunting at first, but the band and the fans have made me feel very welcome. Now I’m much more confident and relaxed, and I just go for it. Pete has told me he likes the way I’ve been stretching out, and to have a license from Pete Townshend to play whatever the hell you want is great! And the fans are intense because they’re so devoted; sometimes they’ll tell me I didn’t play a part the same as John did, or my sound is too clean, which is fine. I get guys in the front row miming to the bass part I should be playing! I’m like, Uh-oh, I’ve got to learn that one over; it looks like John was going to the upper register there!

As for the gig’s appeal, in keeping with my current song-minded focus, it’s the songs themselves; they’re so powerful. As soon as you hit the first note of “Baba O’Riley,” you’re just in it—it’s kind of playing itself in a way. And when you play for thousands of people, and you see how happy it makes them, that’s good enough right there. Plus we have a terrific band that’s a blast to play with.

Overall, you’ve been able to channel John Entwistle’s approach very well. What would you say are his style points?

The best way to explain it is: If you were in a Who cover band, that would be one thing—but playing in the actual band just makes you play that way. It comes out naturally. John played a lot of pentatonic and blues scales, which is about my level anyway [smiles], so I can identify with the way he approached bass. What I haven’t figured out is his fast, “typewriter” stuff. I just sort of play more notes, with a more soloistic approach than I normally would, and I’ll go over the bar lines with fills. My fretless days helped me there, because those were more lead lines than bass lines; that gives me the confidence to go up high on the bass and not worry about leaving out the bottom during a groove. Plus, I’m using Fender Jaguar Basses on tour, which I love. They’re like Jazz Basses with a little more kick to them, and I can get around on them easily.

What are among your favorite Who songs, and have any led you to adopt new techniques?

I love “I Can’t Explain” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again”; “Substitute” is a classic bass line, and “Relay” gives me a chance to funk out a bit. On the last leg of the tour they added some tunes that were new to me and fun to play, like “Naked Eye” and “The Seeker.” Technique-wise, over the years I developed a sort of fingerstyle approach that I really got together while playing with the hip-hop artists, where I pluck the E string with my thumb, the A with my index finger, the D with my middle finger, and the G with my ring finger—and then I add varying degrees of muting with my palm. So I’ve been doing that with the Who, too; I used it a lot on the Wire & Glass EP.

How did you come up with your lines on Wire & Glass?

The six tracks were mostly done, with Pete having played demo parts using one of John’s old basses, so I had a good idea of what he wanted. I replaced the bass by myself on three tracks, and then I recorded with the drummer, Peter Huntington, on the other three. I used my Signature P-Bass and my ’82 Squier J-Bass through my B-15. On the upcoming full-length Who CD Pete played bass on a lot of the songs, and I’m on maybe six tracks.

You’re also on six tracks of Paul Simon’s latest CD, Surprise. I actually cut those before doing the 2003–04 Simon & Garfunkel reunion tour. It was a lot of fun because Steve Gadd and percussionist Jamey Haddad had laid down some great grooves for me to add bass to. With Paul you get to go through all kinds of different permutations of bass lines, note lengths, and tones, but he really knows what’s right for the song when he hears it. I tracked in New York, using my ’61 and ’63 P-Basses, except for “That’s Me,” which was done in London. I had gone down just to hang with Paul and meet [co-producer] Brian Eno for the first time, and they asked if I would play on the track. I didn’t have a bass, so Eno handed me this rare, old fretless Ampeg

AUB-1—the one with the scroll headstock—which he had going through a bunch of effects. You can hear me enter halfway through the track, with the E string tuned down to C. I dug the sound so much I got one for myself.

Considering your recent success as a key member of two bands, can you ever see yourself changing gears and becoming a one-band guy for a while?

I could see that happening, but then again I love so many different styles of music that what I enjoy doing the most is playing in various musical circles. I’ve got projects at home in London that I maintain, like JimJam [with guitarists Jim Mullen and Hamish Stuart], the Mere Mortals [with DJ I.G. Culture], and the Tweeters [with Dominic Miller and Manu Katché]. Really, what has happened is my career has become more about touring than studio work lately, which, for one thing, has forced me cut back on working with a lot of the hip hop artists. The Who will tour into next spring, and the John Mayer Trio will be back—which I’m thrilled about, because it’s some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I’m just happy and very fortunate to be able to ride the wave.