The
Enlightenment of Age
By Dave Roe
Bass Player Magazine June, 2007
It was a beautifully crisp, early summer day in Denver
a few years ago. I was having lunch with a few of
my bandmates, one of whom was leaving the tour the
next day. This was one of those rare major-artist
gigs where the music was great and the hipness factor
was over the top in every way: the sound, the vibe,
and the image. Our soon-to-be-gone brother exemplified
all of that - great player and singer, with model
looks. No doubt he would be missed, and that was the
topic of conversation. Hard to find all of those things
in a musician. But we were lucky, because the new
guy coming in was all that, too; I remember thinking
about that as I nursed a beer, enjoying what should
have been a cool, poignant moment.
Then it happened: Dead serious, one of the other guys
looked at me and nervously asked, "So, uh, hey
man, is there anything you can do to make yourself
look younger?" I can't recall exactly how I reacted,
but I was floored. Over the next few hours, and days,
and weeks, I had to come to grips with the sad truth"I
am old, and I look old. Me, the guy who is usually
the baby in the band. The young gun who had come to
Nashville just, whoa, 25 years ago wow! Was it really
that long ago? And to make matters worse, there were
people around me who considered that a liability.
Oh my God!
In retrospect, I now know that at worst, I should
have planted my beer bottle in this dude's face, or
at best, I should have never spoken to him again,
but here's where it got even weirder. For whatever
reason, I blew it off and tried to get on with it.
As a younger guy, I used to daydream about getting
older; the cats I most admired were much older than
me, and with that aging came experience and better
musicianship"not to mention a better handle on life.
So, I fought to make this guy see that I was the right
person for this gig, that my playing and singing,
which fit this gig right on the money, happened to
be the empirical point. But he wasn't having any of
that. From that day on, my hair wasn't right, my clothes
weren't right, I wasn't right. I was mucking up the
works because I looked my age. Even more important
than all of that, everything had changed. I would
never see myself in the same way again. I endured
a few sleepless nights wondering why this was happening
to me. I had never even considered someone's age as
anything but a fact.
In this P.C. world we live in, being the strong, silent
type and holding it in is no longer John Wayne fit's
considered passive-aggressive. So, after taking it
for a few months, I finally started fighting back.
Now, here's where I learned the most valuable, pointed
lesson of my career: I was wrong, and wronged. I should
have dealt with it on the spot. The whole thing was
ridiculous and moronic, and I should have responded
accordingly. We aren't always ready when things hit
us like that, but I should have been, the same way
I'm ready when my cord goes bad or I make a mistake
onstage. You fix it and move forward.
Then a beautiful, happy ending came along. When I
got off the road and started re-assimilating into
the scene around town, it was all okay. No one else
has mentioned my age or appearance since. My other
bass player pals haven't mentioned it, and the younger
guys don't seem to notice. I'm starting to feel ageless
again, the way I did before this happened, the way
I think God intended. And hey, I'm cool with where
I'm at in my life, and I'm still getting calls.
I'm glad that I'm my age, because I couldn't do what
I do now when I was younger. Not even close. Now I'm
even more ready, and more mature, and after that episode,
a whole lot wiser (and even older!). I guess it really
is true: You're never too old to learn.
And, just in case, my beer bottle is cocked and ready!
* John Wayne was an action-movie star when I was
a kid"an older action-movie star.
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