The loudest acoustic piano trio ever. That title could be bestowed upon the rhythm section of McCoy Tyner, Jimmy Garrison, and Elvin Jones, or the Ben Folds Five, or any trio featuring drummer Art Blakey. But with the widely acclaimed major-label debut These Are the Vistas [Columbia], the Bad Plus just might wrestle that mantle from their thunderous brethren. The band’s originals run the stylistic gamut—but their arrangements of rock tunes like Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and Blondie’s “Heart of Glass” broaden their audience to include dreadlocked teens and multi-pierced twenty-somethings. So is Reid Anderson the loudest acoustic bassist ever? He can definitely throw it down sonically and musically—but his extensive musical palette helps make the Bad Plus more than just a jazz power trio.
Onstage, the Bad Plus is all about dynamics. But when it gets loud, it gets loud. In order to be heard alongside pianist Ethan Iverson and drummer Dave King’s respective in-your-face bashing, Reid dresses his 3/4-size Juzek with a David Gage Realist pickup and a Schertler Dyn-B Transducer. “Acoustic bass is hard to amplify, and for me, it’s still a work in progress,” says Reid. “When we recorded the album, [producer] Tchad Blake used a Tech 21 SansAmp, which gave me a bit of distortion. Live, I’ve been running the pickup through the SansAmp, and I run both signals to the house.”
Born on October 15, 1970, the shaggy-haired, bestubbled Minneapolis native picked up electric bass in junior high school. “I was into progressive rock, like Yes and Rush. Eventually I went through all the fusion stuff, like Allan Holdsworth, and from there I got turned onto jazz and people like Ornette Coleman.” Coleman bassist Charlie Haden became one of Reid’s major influences, which compelled him to switch to upright. (You can hear Anderson’s veneration of Haden on “Everywhere You Turn,” where Reid’s minimalistic, earthy droning is distinctly Haden-esque.) Eventually, Anderson needed more than Minneapolis could offer. “I wanted to get out to the East Coast, but I didn’t have enough money. For some reason, I chose to go to the University of Wisconsin at Eau Claire.” There, he hooked up with Iverson. “We clicked immediately. It was like we were looking for each other. The seeds of what we’re doing now were definitely planted.” At U of W, the orchestra teacher told Reid about Philadelphia’s Curtis Institute of Music. “He said I could get in, so I threw myself into learning how to play classical bass. I ’shedded for six hours a day, because I saw it as my ticket east.” His work paid off: Reid was accepted to Curtis, where he earned his degree after three years.
After leaving school, Anderson hung around Philly for a year, devoting his life to jazz—but he had trouble settling into the local jazz scene. “Breaking in was a horrible experience; I didn’t know anybody. But eventually I hooked up with some great musicians, like pianist Orrin Evans. Then I moved to New York and started over.” The New York transition was painless in comparison. He made a few connections and did a ton of gigging—and a ton of soul searching. “I was finding out who I wanted to play with and who I was as a musician. I eventually got a pretty good idea of where I wanted to go. I started writing my first real music in 1996.” The results can be heard on his three solo recordings, Dirty Show Tunes, Abolish Bad Architecture, and The Vastness of Space, all on the Spanish label Fresh Sound.
The Bad Plus was born in 2000, and Iverson, Anderson, and drummer Dave King immediately made the group their top priority. “If we scheduled a Bad Plus gig and a tour came up for one of us, we would turn it down. We wanted to make the band happen.” They recorded their self-titled Fresh Sound debut in about four hours. “That was the point when everything came together. It became clear that it was a fully manifested band.” Eventually, their intense focus hit paydirt when a Columbia Records representative offered to sign them after seeing a performance at the Village Vanguard.
Dave King feels that the band’s unique musical rapport is due in part to the group’s personal feelings toward one another. “When you know someone’s personality, you know how far they’re willing to jump,” says the drummer. “There’s a strong, internal sense of time with all three of us. I don’t rely on Reid to tell me where the time is—I rely on him to know that I know where it is.” Anderson feels the band’s success is a bit more tangible. “It’s all the result of ten years of laboring in obscurity. You win one every now and then.”
—Alan Goldsher