Come On Come Over

Trailblazing the back of Jaco

42 years with my husband, this has been the essential playbook staple. As seen in the living room last night. Hashtag #bassplayerswife

There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.
- Oscar Levant

I’m not here to talk about the incredibly sad demise of Jaco Pastorius. I remember the extremely rare tears on my husband’s face as he set Jaco’s biography down.

Instead, I’m here to talk about genius. Stripped down, almost completely unaware, natural music phenomena. If you open your Instagram these days, in search of bass sounds, you will find a million little Jaco’s playing bass licks that will blow your mind. Trust me, I’m about to put my husband’s phone in the June box.

Musicians all over the world, young and old, playing Jaco-style. Thumping all over his revolutionary backside, taking jazz, funk and fusion into another worldly level, just like he did.

The first time I was introduced to Jaco Pastorius, John took me on a date, circa November 1983, to The Beverly Theater in L.A. Our relationship was fresh underway in the late spring of that year and he couldn’t wait to introduce me to his hero. He was so nervous after the show, waiting outside, he said to me, “what if I say, YOU’RE my biggest fan?” I remember laughing out loud. He also told me this whole story about seeing Jaco at The Hollywood Bowl, prior to our relationship. If you’ve ever been to this venue, it’s still a parking nightmare. Back in the day, there weren’t streams of buses bringing concert goers in — then waiting for them, after the show, in never-ending lines of diesel smoke and drunken fans who never seem to make the bus or get on the wrong bus. Back then, you could actually wait at the stage door and tell the band they were awesome, while the steep parking lot around the bowl slowly, excruciatingly, emptied out. So, John happened to encounter Jaco, face to face, who happened to ask John if he could give Wayne Shorter and Joe Zawinul, from his band WEATHER REPORT, a ride out of there, FAST. They were in a big hurry.

What? To John’s total and flabberghasted-am-I-in-a-dream-and-it’s-so-messed-up-dismay — had to tell JACO that he was locked into the parking lot with just a ragtop Volkswagon bug.

“Okay man.”

What? “What just happened” said the high school super fan.

SOUND FROM JACO AT THE HOLLYWOOD BOWL (above) WITH WEATHER REPORT that year in 1979.

Then came the tix my husband bought to take my parents to see his bass idol, in June of 1984, back at the Hollywood Bowl. He worked so hard to get these tickets and he couldn’t wait for my dad to experience the sound of Weather Report, and of course, Jaco. Dad, like me, couldn’t play an instrument, but had a passion and an ear for all kinds of music. John was 100% out to impress him.

Meeting John only expanded my world for jazz and the years of dates to see incredible talent from large concert halls, like Lincoln Center, to small underground venues in New York City, Birdland, Blue Note, small old theaters in L.A. to Catalina Bar and Grill and too many others to name. I think if I added up our time witnessing musical genius we could have gone to Europe several times over! Nah, maybe not. Jazz musicians notoriously make far less money in the U.S., than any other type of artist, so tix are often cheap and you have to love it like avocados or hot peppers. Insane to say the least. We should have lived in Europe where jazz is number one and the living aplenty.

I was sold on Jaco because of Joni Mitchell. That was all I needed to hear and see.

Jaco in Japan, ‘62 jazz Hiroshima Fender in hand, on subway rides in strides - no entourage, or camouflage, no spotlight or out-of-sight. And who would know? the mental acuity, he would bestow. (do you know why his bass was called “Hiroshima?” He threw in the bay. yep)

So here’s what happened. Right before our eyes in a haze of pot-smoking fans - which was so crazy - since my rather hip yet completely drug-free parents were beginning to focus only on the pungent smell as I watched my future husband slowly melt out of his seat onto the ground in a cloud of shock, worry and sadness.

On so many levels.

Google A.I. says it all:

“In 1984, Jaco Pastorius experienced a public incident during the Playboy Jazz Festival at the Hollywood Bowl. He went on stage and had a "violent crack-up," which led to several embarrassing public incidents and marked the beginning of his struggles with mental health. While Weather Report, the jazz fusion band he was a member of, did perform at the Hollywood Bowl as part of the festival, the incident involving Jaco was separate from the band's main performance.”

Yep, he began to smash stuff. With his bass.

John was mortified and I don’t believe my parents had ever been to the bowl before.

At the time, Bill Cosby had been the regular emcee. He ran onto the stage and said something like, “okay folks that’s enough for now…..” as the stage floor automatically turned in a circle of explosive madness. You could hear a pin drop. Then boo’ing :(

Heartbroken, John couldn’t speak for days. My parents were great about it. And, bonus, my dad loved John like a son, and we got married the following year.

Because LOVE truly, truly, truly — is everything. And I only wish Jaco could have mentally received the love bestowed upon him.

The rest is too complicated.

Come on, come over
As fast as you can
You're afraid that you won't like it
But you don't understand
One thing, my brother
I can tell you true
The more time you spend feeling happy
The less time you'll be blue

- Jaco

Here’s some Berklee School of Music students doing Come On, Come Over…

Part of John’s music room wall. He came into our relationship with the Jaco framed picture, center above. On the left is an image directly from the Joni Mitchell archives I saved for and bought a few years ago and the others are a few of my shots from covering music photography. Cheers to John’s 48 years on electric and double bass.

Birdland, live 1978, with original greats Joe Zawinul (keyboards), Wayne Shorter (saxophones), Jaco Pastorius (electric bass), Peter Erskine (drums).