Introduction
Twenty years ago, I had my first lesson with Paul Westwood. Back then, I didn’t know he’d become one of the most influential figures in my journey as a musician. Today, I had the privilege of sitting down with him again, not just as a former student, but as a fellow bass educator. We talked about everything from the secrets of session work to the real job of a bass player. Here are the biggest takeaways from that conversation.
The Identity Crisis of a Session Player
Paul explained that in the studio world, perception is everything. He once played live for a longtime collaborator, who afterward said, “I didn’t know you could play like that.”
That’s the paradox of session work: everyone has a different idea of what you are. One session he’s told to improvise. The next, he’s told not to improvise. The result? A kind of musical identity crisis that eventually forced Paul to spend six weeks rediscovering what "his" music sounded like.
The Crumbs That Make Up the Loaf
One of the standout phrases Paul shared was this: "It's all the crumbs that make up the loaf." Every experience—good, bad, ordinary or extraordinary—contributes to who you are musically. Studio work, teaching, live gigs, playing with orchestras or pop stars—it all builds the full picture.
Jamerson Could Slap? Motown Said No
Here’s a story that genuinely blew my mind: Paul revealed that James Jamerson, the godfather of modern bass, actually taught slap bass to Michael Henderson. But Motown didn’t allow it on records.
Jamerson’s creativity was boxed in. It’s a fascinating insight into how even the greats had boundaries placed around them.
Play the Band, Not the Bass
Paul spoke a lot about what it means to really support the music. His philosophy is clear: the job of the bass player is to make everyone else sound better. He told a story about playing a gig at the Royal Albert Hall where the music was, in his words, “bloody boring.”
So he improvised. Slowly, all nine double bass players in the LSO stopped playing and just let Paul groove. They told him afterward, “We agree with you. It needed it.”
The Mission: Make Students Employable
When I studied with Paul, I remember one phrase more than any other: “I want to make you employable.” It wasn’t about just playing jazz. It was about being versatile. Reading charts. Playing commercial gigs. Supporting singers. Creating basslines that work.
He pointed out that jazz degrees often don’t lead to careers. But teaching students to understand styles like Motown, funk, Latin, African grooves—that’s how you build a working bassist.
Studio Life: The Ups, Downs, and Reinvention
Paul shared that the 1990s recession wiped out his studio career. So he reinvented himself. Went on tour. Taught. Wrote the famous Bass Bible. He found new purpose in helping others grow.
Legacy and Final Thoughts
Paul’s closing message was beautifully simple:
Do your best. Help people. And stay out of jail.
In a world that often rewards flash over substance, Paul Westwood is a shining example of what it means to serve the music—and the people around it. This conversation was a reminder that great bass playing isn’t about being heard. It’s about being felt.
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