Born in Athens in 1961, Fakanas listened mainly to rock artists like Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, and Jethro Tull growing up. He took some classical guitar and piano lessons at age nine, and at 13, a neighborhood rock band enlisted him to play bass. With a budget “Clear Sound” electric bass in hand—but no contemporary music albums, books, or schools available in Greece at the time—Yiorgos had to seek out information any way he could. This led him to the lone jazz club in Athens, which had a pool of about 30 musicians he would go listen to. He recalls, “That’s where I learned about the Real Book, which taught me jazz standards, chord progressions, scales, melodies, and bass styles. But there wasn’t anyone to assure me I was doing the right thing. That made my will for knowledge even stronger.” Fakanas came across Stanley Clarke’s School Days at age 15, and he spent a summer transcribing the songs. Next came the influences of Jaco Pastorius, Anthony Jackson, and Ron Carter, as well as the purchase of a ’76 Fender Jazz Bass. He also began composing, with a fondness for large ensembles.
In 1980, Fakanas was selected to be a member of Eurojazz, a big band consisting of the best European jazz musicians younger than 23. Eurojazz toured Europe for four years, and the experience served as the music school Yiorgos never had. He followed this by co-founding ISKRA, the first fusion group in Greece. Over four years and two albums, the band— now viewed nationally as “historic”—opened the door for the development of jazz fusion in Greece. Fakanas released his first solo CD in 1988 and began his own rise to national celebrity status, composing (and at times conducting) music for theater, film and television, major symphonies, and various jazz ensembles. In 1997 he opened the Art Music School, a music mecca in Athens that boasts 65 faculty members, 600 students, recording and rehearsal studios, a publishing section, and a club (Athina Live)—where numerous Stateside heavies, including Joe Zawinul, Yellowjackets, Billy Cobham, and Allan Holdsworth, have performed and given clinics. We talked to the English-speaking Yiorgos by phone at his school.
With Your Varied Skills, Why Has Bass guitar become your instrumental voice?
The choice of instrument is a matter of character. I’m someone who likes to have an overview of things, and I want to help solve any problems that come up. The bass is the root of the harmony and supports the whole musical structure; it determines whether the melody sits well with the chords. Plus, the rhythm depends on the bass, so the bassist has a major responsibility onstage. This aspect has always intrigued me, and it’s why I chose bass as a natural extension of myself and my voice.
What bass players were key to the development of your style?
I feel I’ve gained a lot from listening to the way bassists like Anthony Jackson and Jaco Pastorius develop a groove. Their influence is probably audible in my playing, although I try to assimilate what I hear and express it my own way. Stanley Clarke inspired me to master speedy playing. I believe speed is important only when the notes played have an essential melodic interest. I noted Jeff Berlin’s legato melodic playing and chords with that slight chorus sound. Listening to double-bass players like Eddie Gomez, Dave Holland, and Ron Carter helped me to develop my walking bass and also to slow down my phrasing speed, in a sense that I felt more content with fewer notes. Many of the newer bassists today impress me with their technical abilities, but I always go for those points where musicality supersedes exhibitionism.
What can you share about your technique?
I play with two alternating right-hand fingers. My left hand is one-finger-per-fret spacing. The rare times I slap, it’s with the thumb perpendicular to the strings. I mute with a combination of my right and left hands, and I play a lot of double-stops and chords. I’m always discovering something new. Generally, technique is a necessary tool for anyone who plays; you can do nothing without it, and nothing with it alone. I feel a bassist should divide his time between advancing his technique and advancing his musicality, giving more time to the latter.
What informs your soloing?
I listen to a wide range of music; everything can be an influence. I don’t think I can name specific bassists, other instrumentalists, or styles that have marked my solos. It’s all there. Let’s not forget that the modes—Ionian, Dorian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Phrygian, Aeolian, Locrian—have their names and roots in ancient Greece. Of course, their uses today are different. But I’m familiar with all the popular Greek scales and modes, and when the harmony allows me, I use them in my solos. Bebop and other kinds of jazz are the main soloing styles I learned and love, starting with the Charlie Parker Omni Book [Alfred]. I use those styles more often than others because I can express my playing and my compositions better through them. I could say that I start from the international and end up at the Greek.
What’s your approach to groove playing, and do traditional Greek odd time signatures figure into your rhythmic makeup?
Most often, the drummer’s role determines the way I come to a groove. Usually my playing is complementary to what the drummer does: If he or she plays steadily and sparsely, I can play a more intricate pattern and in fact use the whole body of my instrument. This is how I’m better able to approach the harmony and melody of a bass line, as long as I don’t interfere with the piece’s melody or any solos functioning at the time. If, however, the drummer is playing densely with various rhythmic patterns, I usually go back to a basic groove in the low register—unless we’ve played together a lot, in which case I pick up on some of his or her patterns, making sure I don’t burden the piece too much rhythmically.
It’s true that in Greece we grow up listening to odd time signatures. But these rhythms have a very specific developmental path and are not as complicated as some of the odd times I hear from other countries. For sure, they’re in my mind as music I’ve heard since I was a kid, so they may occasionally come out unconsciously.
What sparked your composing side?
The Greek environment in which I grew up was characterized by two opposing musical streams. On the one hand there was—and still is—an enormous centuries-old cultural tradition. Today, we Greeks are trying to find a way to express these musical elements that have deep roots among us. On the other hand, the new ideas and musical trends coming in as a result of globalization naturally influenced an inquisitive musician like myself. So, the main reason I started composing, at age 15, was to combine my “Greekness” with what I considered the best international musical trend: jazz and its derivatives. I believed, and still do, that if every composer from anywhere in the world approached his writing this way, we could have a truly international language that would encompass all national ideas and “languages.”
On what instrument do you write?
The electric bass was and remains my main composing platform, even when I compose for orchestral ensembles in which there is no bass—for example, the string quartet. Our instrument gives me the opportunity to know perfectly the way any kind of music “works.” At the same time, it lets me analyze and hold in my hands the whole harmony. The instrument’s range—thanks to Anthony Jackson’s invention of the 6-string—allows me to perform any melody. This absolute musical control transforms the bass player into the most natural composer. I hope all bass players, friends, and colleagues alike will realize the deep musical potential they are holding in their hands when they play bass.
How do the two disciplines coexist, in your case?
I write music from a need to listen to and transmit an artistic idea comprehensively. In this sense, I am a composer. The electric bass is always my original means of expression. However, I don’t like to write music that features a bass with everything else just following. The bass should serve the composition, and if I have a command of the instrument, I can make it noticeable without hindering the composition. That’s always my intention: for my two qualities as bassist and composer not to undermine each other. Yet, the composition is above everything, and it’s just a matter of time before this becomes obvious.
How do you reflect on your career, and what lies ahead?
I have three CDs in the making. The first, Interspirit, is eight pieces composed for two basses and various orchestral groups. It’s an honor and a pleasure to be working with Anthony Jackson, who will be the main protagonist on the project. The second disc, Maestro, is a work for various ensembles dedicated to the great maestro Dimitris Mitropoulos, who conducted the New York Philharmonic for a number of years. The third CD is a continuation of the jazz fusion direction of Domino, with Dave Weckl on drums. I’m also working toward publishing a five-volume book on the electric bass. And, of course, I’d love to come to the U.S. to perform, either with my group or as a sideman.
As for my career, from the creative point of view, I feel content because I’ve always tried to give the maximum of my potential. I guess this is the only way I know to achieve recognition and reward for your work.
YIORGOS FAKANAS: AN APPRECIATION
BY ANTHONY JACKSON
How is it that a major, broad-spectrum talent like Yiorgos Fakanas can achieve such recognition in his own country, yet remain internationally obscure? Could it be that Hellenic culture is more inward-looking and self-protective than ours? After all, any American having accomplished what he has would be a fixture in every music magazine in the U.S.—and Britain, Germany, France, Italy, etc. And perhaps this is a clue. I’ve heard tales of famous-name bass giants who contact BASS PLAYER, saying, “I think it’s time for my next feature. When?” Maybe there’s something to be said for simply doing what you say you’ve been put here to do … diligently, unceasingly, with discipline, without worrying about being named Bassist of the Year. Assuming quality work, recognition inevitably comes— although perhaps not as soon, or as much, as one would like. In any case, the excellent example of Mr. Fakanas should remind us all of the virtue of undistracted commitment and self-improvement. The man has much to show. To everyone.