Marcus Miller’s soft-spoken ascent to bass superstar status

Victor Wooten might have unmatched speed and technical prowess, and Les Claypool may have carved out a nice little niche audience with his bizarro bass-as-lead-guitar approach, but no bassist can play funk music quite like Marcus Miller. There aren’t many songwriters with his chops, either—he’s penned hits for the likes of the late, great Luther Vandross and others. He’s played with Miles Davis and he’s won a Grammy (for Best Contemporary Jazz album, M3). In fact, there isn’t much Marcus Miller hasn’t done in the music world. Nevertheless, his solo material remains some of the most adventurous in funk and smooth jazz.

“I was born and raised in New York,” Miller says, “So, by the age of maybe 14, 15, I was doing gigs in New York City in whatever clubs would turn their heads in terms of the age thing. It was just an incredible learning experience, because New York isn’t the kind of city where one sound is prevalent or anything. In New York, I would play in jazz bands, I would play in African bands, I would play in funk bands,” he pauses. “A lot of funk bands. So what happens is somebody in the audience hands you their card, and says ‘hey, I’m doing a show over here, you should give me a call,’ and by the time you’re 19, you’re the veteran.”

One thing led to another, and Miller was suddenly an in-demand session player. “It was really just an exciting time,” Miller says, “I’m very much a product of the New York music scene.”

Miller’s work as a session man led to his most high-profile gigs in the industry to date: his associations with Miles Davis and Luther Vandross. He produced the controversial, anti-apartheid-themed Tutu for Davis and played on the excellent Amandla (and many others). However, some of his most impressive songwriting work rests in Vandross’ catalogue. “I just developed so much respect for him, based on how knowledgeable he was about singing,” says Miller of Vandross. “He was an expert. He wasn’t just a good singer, but he knew exactly what he was doing, the science behind it. Not many singers do, but he did.” Miller’s songwriting work (and excellent, restrained bass playing) can be heard on tons of Vandross greats: “It’s Over Now,” “Any Love,” and “Don’t Wanna Be a Fool.” “Luther was always joking with me, saying, ‘Marcus, don’t play no jazz in my stuff, man, I’m an R&B man,’” Miller recalls, “So, when I sent him the music to ‘Don’t Want to Be a Fool,’ I thought he was going to reject it, because the harmonies move around a lot. Instead, he called me from his car with the music blasting. He says, ‘Man, this is beautiful,’ and I said, ‘You like it?’ He said, ‘Yeah, what’s not to like?’ So I just didn’t bother to tell him about the jazz chord changes. I kept my mouth shut.” Miller laughs. “But what he wrote was such a beautiful story. And that’s what I really love about it, he wrote such honest, beautiful lyrics. He really took that song, took my jazz chord changes to another level.”

Miller’s formidable composer’s ear is apparent on his newest release, Marcus. The album’s opener, “Blast,” is sort of a riotous, hip-hop-inspired call to arms: drum-machine handclaps pop along to a slap bass riffing on Middle Eastern scales. “You can definitely hear that I’ve been influenced by hip-hop just in the kind of mix choices we made,” Miller says. “It’s a lot more raw sounding, the instruments are more out in front, they sound like they’re closer to you.” Miller’s willingness to embrace new sonic textures has kept his music relevant and fresh sounding. “It’s so important,” he says, “You don’t want your album to sound like it came out ten years ago. You want your album to reflect what’s going on now. So, I’m always looking for something new.”

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