The Noble Bass

Back in the days when I’d go clubbing, I tended to favour the kind of venues that were essentially dark, cavernous basements - and make for a corner. All the better to smoke discreetly, dance in shadows, and enjoy the delicious visceral thrum that being close to a large bass speaker bestows. Not everyone’s cup of tea, I know, but I loved it. It felt life affirming on a grand scale. Like being plugged into the earth’s pulse.

Fast forward some decades and the bass is back. Not that it ever left of course; festivals, gigs, parties, kitchen discos with the volume up,...spotify. It’s only ever been a wish away.

But lately the bass has come alive again - in the most revelatory fashion.

An artists' studio in backstreet Shepherds Bush might seem an unlikely location to find it but there, last Saturday night, thanks to the Drum and Fire Forest Circle, the bass was very much in play. Convened during summer months in the ancient wooded grounds of Trent country park where members gather round a large bonfire beneath tree canopies and the stars, in this urban indoor version participants collect in a loose circle around floor-strewn fairy lights whilst the flames are relegated to a pit in the paved courtyard and visited only by smokers.

But the sound. Oh the sweet, sweet sound…

Assorted percussion instruments ranging from shaker eggs and snare drums to congo drums and cymbals tumbled together in the most delightful way. An electric violin and guitar lent accents of frolic and groove. A xylophone, a guiro (look it up), a tin whistle, several tambourines, all combined to lift even higher a mighty chorus of energy and expression. And who knew how irresistible a cow bell could sound when hit with a drumstick? Cheeky and sublime.

Microphones were circulated and voices added to the mix. Nothing was scripted, no words were sung - just sounds made - no music was written or followed; one instrument suggested a beat and others joined in. It was creativity at its most organic. Whatever one wished to play, one brought along; instruments were exchanged, and all of them were integral to the sound created. In an orchestral melting pot, lines of rhythm and melody, cadence and texture, were laid down and added to until layer upon layer of sound merged and swirled to create extended moments of all consuming harmony rooted in and anchored by that deep, rumbling, reassuring bass. If I sound euphoric. It was. Like riding a wave you’ve made happen yourself.

For anyone who dismisses bass as the uncouth clarion call of gurning ravers, think again. There is beauty in bass; subtlety, restraint, fine-tuned expression - command. There is no doubt of course that the sound of drumming is primal. Hearing is one of the first senses we develop; we spend nine months enveloped in the womb, listening to the steady rhythmic beat of our mother’s heart - existing in an actual drum circle. The appeal of drumming, rhythm, deep bass sound, is simply and powerfully an evolution of that. There is life force in bass. Its low frequency vibration is literally felt within the body.

And to be clear, the Drum and Fire Forest Circle is no club night. There’s no bar on the premises. The fairy lights go off at twelve. It’s all about sound and union and creativity and freedom. It’s no surprise to me that the guys behind it - Roberto Milani and Marc Itzler - work elsewhere in the therapeutic arena, running workshops together, for the most part with people who’re overcoming trauma in their lives.

There is much to be said for and gained from coming together with others and making music from improvised expression. It requires us to be open, and accepting and giving - it is very, very healthy for mind, body and soul - and in the sweet spots there is to be found the rarest of things; purity, harmony and joy.

We should all bang a drum for that.