The Night I Told 'The World's Greatest Bass Player' To Fuck Off (The Saga Of One Man's Encounter With The Troubled Mind Of Jaco Pastorius)

I have the utmost respect for Jaco Pastorius. I really do. Employing one of the most unique and harmonic approaches to the instrument, he not only revolutionized the way the electric bass is played, but he also wrote many wonderful compositions, scoring imaginative and dynamic arrangements for large ensembles and small groups alike. His legacy is a rich and lasting one, but one that is also filled with sadness, and the malediction of mental illness. A flawed individual, he was extremely talented nonetheless, and though his life was marred by his affliction, his star burned white hot for a period, until his demons finally snuffed out the flame in a brutal, senseless, and tragic death. The year was 1987, and he was 35 years of age.

Despite my own battles with depression, I had never encountered the symptoms of bipolar disorder, episodes which in it's extreme form, can make one vacillate between two extremes in disposition, docile and easy going one minute, wild, unpredictable and manic the other. This was Jaco's curse. A curse which was only further fueled by the cult of personality brought on by his fame and contributions to the jazz idiom, and certainly by the drug and alcohol abuse in which he indulged to medicate his troubled mind. Pastorius had always displayed erratic tendencies throughout the course of his career, but his behavior was misunderstood, and largely accepted as a symptom of his star status. After all, it was he who first proclaimed himself to be 'The World's Greatest Bass Player.' I too, stand accused, attributing the derangement of which I had heard so much about, simply to ego and sycophant pandering. But as the years progressed, so did his illness, and along with it, a progressive downward spiral that diminished his creativity and performance, made his volatility increasingly intolerable to those around him, serving only to alienate himself from friends, family, and his contemporaries, and ultimately putting him on a certain path to his eventual demise. I met Jaco during an illusive cusp of time between super-stardom and his fall from grace, the period when temperamental behavior gave way to bizarre behavior in an encounter that continues to haunt me to this day. The story begins here.

The year was roughly 1981 or '82. I was in my beginnings as the all-night DJ at KJAZ, the formative and legendary radio outlet that proved to be the longest lasting 24 hour commercial jazz station in the country. This was true jazz here, not of the niche variety, but real, modern jazz in all it's colors. When I arrived at the station shortly before midnight to do my nightly shift, my co-worker informed me that Jaco and Todd Barkan, proprietor of the equally legendary Keystone Korner jazz club had dropped by to hang out, and listen to records from the library. This was not unusual for musicians to do, as KJAZ was the premiere outlet for their music to be aired, and it's staff were obviously of a kindred spirit. The exiting DJ had seized the opportunity for an impromptu on-air interview, and now, the two welcome visitors were ensconced in the adjoining studio to audition selections from the station's massive library (the largest in the country, now in the possession of KCSM). Jaco had only just recently left the highly successful Weather Report, and was now embarking on a solo career. Having recently released his second LP, he was at the pinnacle of his vocation, a legend in his own time. Not wishing to intrude, I poured my first cup of coffee for the night, and began pulling material for my own program. It was a Saturday. Searching for titles, I thought perhaps that later, as nighttime dissolved into daybreak, I might eventually ease into a series of spiritual jazz recordings. It seemed appropriate to me as the following program was a Sunday Morning gospel show.

Throughout my first hour or so, Jaco would occasionally venture into the studio to scour for more vinyl, nodding to me politely, saying little more than hello, even asking permission to pull something, lest I might wish to play it myself. He was animated, cordial, and respectful of my work, daring not to disrupt my program. As the night wore on however, he became more talkative, and the animation became increasingly more agitated. The storm was only brewing.

As time went on, Jaco was now coming into the main studio with increasing frequency to excitedly shove a disc into my hands, suggesting with great gusto that I play it. At first, I was gracious. In fact, I was flattered! Jaco Pastorius was taking an interest in me and my work! I duly included his first petition within the next set, much to his satisfaction. With his subsequent recommendations however, I told him I'd consider them, and maybe somehow fit them in later, if they fell within the direction I was going. After a bit however, he entered the studio yet again, sternly inquiring this time, "Have you played anything yet?" I explained that I was mining a particular bag at the moment, and his offerings took me out of the direction and mood that I was attempting to establish. This was not 'all request' radio, I continued, but I'd try to appease him. "Please allow me to do my work," I implored. "I'll try fit it in, but I can't make promises." Placated, he wandered off, only to return several minutes later. He was now no longer smiling, but clearly annoyed by my reluctance to acquiesce to what were now resembling something closer to demands. I'd like to think that he genuinely thought he was making informed suggestions, but they were not. The material he proffered were simply recordings that he was excited about, and wished to share with me, but I just couldn't be certain. I pondered whether his actions were truly in the interest of sharing what he thought was a dynamic piece of music that needed to be heard, or merely imparting his importance upon me, certain that I would surely respect his wishes and recommendations? I wish I had known with some assurance. Either way, I was taken back, and becoming very uncomfortable. I found myself facing the most awkward of quandaries. I respected both men immensely. Todd Barkan was an unwavering champion of jazz, a friend to us all, and one of the stations leading advertisers. By requesting they leave, I feared the subsequent embarrassment and bold request could have sabotaged the stations relationship with a trusted ally. Jaco on the other hand was luminary. He proclamation of greatest had proven true, easily making him the most important jazz bassist to emerge in the latter half of the 20th century. And besides, who was I, to tell the man considered to be 'the greatest bass player in the world' that he was acting like an obnoxious jerk! My program was falling to pieces. What was I to do? I didn't wish to alienate Barkan by ejecting them, but Jaco meanwhile was now talking loudly and incessantly, failing to even stop during mic breaks. It was approaching 4:30 in the morning, the strong coffee was flowing through my veins like blood, and the guy was royally working my last nerve. Couldn't they comprehend that they had overstayed their welcome and leave on their own accord? Couldn't Jaco as a performer, appreciate the circumstance, and display more respect for a professional like himself who was in the midst of his own performance? How would he have reacted if someone were telling him how to construct his playing? Frustrated, and at my wit's end, I finally approached Todd, gently asking that he and Jaco call it a night, leaving me to do my work in peace. He understood, and said he'd attempt to shepherd the now renegade Pastorius out into the night for a breath of fresh air. I felt relieved, and began refocusing my energies back to programming my crumbling show.

As Donald Byrd's 'Cristo Redentor' flowed softly from the studio monitors, I was back into the spiritual groove I had been trying to maintain, when Jaco ran back into the room, now insisting that I play something from his record. "It'll fit in perfectly!," he expounded. It wouldn't have. Steel drums, big band charts, and soaring bass lines generally would not mix well with the somber strains of Byrd's hymnal. I didn't care who was making the suggestion, I was the DJ, and only I would determine what got played, when it got played, and whether it fit in! Refusing once more with authority this time, the unimaginable happened, catching me completely off-guard. And thus, we get to the heart of the story.

'The World's Greatest Bass Player' was defiant now, determined to break me, or so it seemed. It had become a battle of one man's ego pitted against the other's. Both turntables were in rotation and both contained vinyl as he continued to badger me. To the untrained eye, it would be difficult to discern which record was actually in use, and which was merely waiting to be replenished with a new slab of wax. Jaco was apparently in a gambling mood. He had hoped to force my hand by placing his record directly on the turntable where I had refused, assuming I would politely oblige, or finally see the wisdom of his reasoning. He studied them both for a moment, then lifted the tonearm of the turntable he had wagered to be the latter. Immediately the airwaves fell silent. He had lost his costly bet. The sweet sound of sanctified music became eerie stillness with all the unforeseen abruptness of sudden death. I was aghast! I couldn't believe what had just happened, and neither could he. Jolting from my seat, I shouted, "What the fuck did you just do!? Don't ever do that again, you asshole! That's it! You guys are outta' here! Fuck off, Jaco!" Instantaneously, I thought to myself, "Christ, did I just say that!?" I had. I told the most prestigious bass player of the last decade to 'fuck off,' and I had done so in front of his friend, weekend host, and staunch supporter of the station, Todd Barkan. Had I just made a grand blunder, or was I justified in my reaction? I couldn't answer. Because of the hour, I was reticent to call the program director, but I slowly dialed the number, waking him from a deep slumber. Explaining the situation, and my feelings of helplessness, he instructed me to put Todd on the line for an explanation. Handing the receiver to Barkan, I placed a long track on the turntable, and left the room while the two discussed the matter. When I re-entered the studio, Todd handed the phone back to me, and the director told me the incident was resolved. Todd apologized, and informed me that he and Jaco would be leaving immediately.

I was thankful, but I still felt as though it was I who had done something wrong. Don't ask me why, I simply was not accustomed to throwing 'royalty' out on it's ass. I quickly went about making amends, asking if I might join them on their continuing escapade when my shift ended. They obliged in the name of friendship, and man, did we have a blast! So much so, that I lost all recollection of the events that transpired! I later woke up to find myself in a hotel room somewhere in British Columbia, beside a hooker by the name of Candy, only to discover that I was now on the road with Jaco's 'Word of Mouth' band, acting as M.C., and tuning his bass guitars. It was like a dream, and that's exactly what this last paragraph is, a dream. Nothing of the sort transpired. It's a lie, a falsehood. I made it up solely for the sake of drama, and a strong conclusion to an otherwise true, and remarkably sad story. The truth is, the story ended right there with an uneventful finish. The two simply gathered their possessions, mumbled their goodbyes, and ambled down the long staircase to the street below, to disappear into the cold morning light.

Years later, after learning more about the severity of bipolar disorders (then known as manic depression), I ended up honestly regretting my outburst to Jaco that night, regardless of his intolerable behavior. Yes, his attitude may have been influenced by drug or alcohol consumption (if, in fact, any was involved), or possibly by virtue of his role as 'Jaco Pastorius, Greatest Living Bass Player The World Has Ever Known,' he may have merely been unaccustomed to taking 'no' for an answer. Either way, it no longer mattered. I had come to realize that he was simply a sick man who was rapidly losing his fight with the forces that plagued and tormented him. I felt ashamed of myself, for I know first hand how devastating depression can be, and it's difficult for those around you for comprehend the loss of control that goes along with the affliction. You say hurtful things that you don't actually mean, and you act out in ways that are against your inherent nature, but these anomalies manifest themselves only because you hurt so deeply inside, and you can't control the ways in which you interact with those around you, those you actually do respect, and possibly even love. It's a delicate dance on eggshells, and that night, I had witnessed Jaco's mournful dance.

By the time of my realization, Jaco had succeeded in pushing away nearly all of his dwindling support system. He was frequently in and out of mental institutions, and a mere nickel away from virtual homelessness. Shortly thereafter, in a manic state, Jaco kicked in the glass door of a nightclub in southern Florida after being refused entrance due to his erratic and volatile behavior. In a brutal confrontation with the club bouncer, he was hospitalized with irreversible brain damage and other severe injuries. Falling into a coma, he suffered a massive hemorrhage days later, and on September 21, 1987, he was pronounced brain dead, removed from life support by his family. It was a tragic conclusion to a tragic life that was once filled with purpose, invention, and ironically, so much wonderfully joyous music. Rest now in peace, Jaco.

Part One

1) Portrait Of Tracy (Jaco) 2) Teen Town (with Weather Report) 3) John And Mary (Jaco)
4) Soul Intro/The Chicken (with Word Of Mouth) 5) Kuru/Speak Like A Child (Jaco)
6) Cotton Avenue (with Joni Mitchell) 7) Liberty City (Jaco) 8) Barbary Coast (with Weather Report)
9) Bright Size Life (with Pat Metheny) 10) Fire Water (with Brian Melvin)

Part Two

1) Donna Lee (Jaco) 2) Come On, Come Over (with Sam & Dave)
3) River People (with Weather Report 4) 3 Views Of A Secret (Jaco) 5) Black Crow (with Joni Mitchell)
6) Invitation (with Word Of Mouth) 7) Continuum (Jaco) 8) Out of The Night (with Brian Melvin)
9) Punk Jazz (with Weather Report) 10) A Remark You Made (with Weather Report)
11) Holiday For Pans (with Othello Molineaux)

To download, click here for Part One, and here for Part Two.

For more information, visit the official website of 'The World's Greatest Bass Player.'