Low End Theology: 12 Basslines That Taught America How to Sweat

Every funk band is a church, and the bass player is the deacon. Nobody notices him until he stops, and then everybody's praying. We sat down after soundcheck in Columbus with a case of beer and a grudge list and settled the argument we've been having since the tour van had a cassette deck: the twelve basslines that built the grease.

Disagree with us. We want you to. That's what comment sections are for.

The Twelve Commandments of the Low End

1. "Get Up (I Feel Like Being a Sex Machine)" — Bootsy Collins & Sweet Charles Sherrell, 1970. The blueprint. The line barely moves — two notes, maybe three if Bootsy was feeling spicy — and it moves a nation. Lesson one: the pocket is a discipline, not a display.

2. "Flash Light" — Bootsy Collins, 1978. Yes, him again. Get used to it. Synth bass because the real thing wasn't greasy enough, which should be physically impossible. Every wedding DJ owes Bootsy rent.

3. "What Is Hip?" — Tower of Power, Rocco Prestia. Rocco played ahead of the beat on purpose, like a man leaning into a door he knows is going to open. First time our guitarist heard this record he pulled the car over. True story.

4. "Chameleon" — Herbie Hancock, with Paul Jackson. Jazz hands, funk soul. Jackson plays like the groove owes him money and he's collecting interest.

5. "Cissy Strut" — George Porter Jr., The Meters. New Orleans built a groove you could set a watch to and then dared you to try. Porter's tone on this is the sound of a warm pavement parking lot in July.

6. "One Nation Under a Groove" — Bootsy (again), 1978. Look, the man is basically the whole Old Testament of this list. This one's the sermon where everybody gets up and testifies.

7. "Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)" — Larry Graham. The inventor of slapping. Before Graham, the bass whispered. After Graham, the bass had opinions.

8. "Brick House" — Ronald LaPread, Commodores. The groove your aunt knows. The groove your little cousin knows. Proof that funk could walk into a living room and stay for dinner.

9. "Word Up!" — Cameo. The '80s get a bad rap. This line is a strut in slow motion, all shoulder and no apology.

10. "Superstition" — this one's technically clavinet, but the bass underneath holds the floorboards down and we're claiming it. Rules are for ballads.

11. "Sir Duke" — the line every bass teacher uses as a final exam. Not strictly funk, but if you can play that run without grimacing, you've earned your funk learner's permit.

12. "P.Y.T." — James Jamerson's spiritual grandchildren, courtesy of Louis Johnson. The bridge between Motown's heartbeat and the last great funk-pop crossover. Play it at your next rehearsal and watch the drummer smile for the first time all year.

Gear Talk, or: It's Not the Amp (It's Kind of the Amp)

Someone always asks what strings we use. Flatwounds, always flatwounds — roundwounds are for people who want their bass to sound like a doorbell. Our bassist swears by a '78 Precision with the finish worn down to bare wood where his forearm sits. "The sweat is the finish," he says, which is either profound or a health code violation.

But here's the honest truth we tell every kid who asks at the merch table: the gear matters about ten percent. The other ninety is where you put the note. Late? Lazy. Early? Nervous. Dead center, just behind the kick drum, sitting down in the pocket like it's your grandma's couch? That's the whole religion.

The First Time We Heard It

Our bass player got the pocket at fifteen, in a basement in Kalamazoo, when the drummer's older brother put on "One Nation" and told him to stop playing the notes and start playing the space between them. Took him two more years to understand what that meant. He says he's still working on it. That's funk — you never graduate, you just get greasier.

So queue these up. Argue with the list. Tell us we're wrong about Cameo. We'll be in the comments, holding down the low end.