Show Notes
Guy Pratt has played bass with Pink Floyd, David Gilmour, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Bryan Ferry, Robert Palmer and some of the biggest names in music. But behind that extraordinary CV is a much more interesting story about confidence, instinct, relationships — and what it actually takes to survive for decades as a professional musician. In this episode of Now That's Bass, Guy talks candidly about the imposter syndrome he felt working alongside the world's elite session musicians, why Bernard Edwards asking for him still seems extraordinary, and why being good in the room may have been as important to his career as being good on the bass.
Want to jump to the cool stuff? 00:34 Why bell ringing got Guy more press than playing bass03:22 How Guy first found the bass07:29 Learning by ear and making music without reading09:56 When playing bass became a possible career11:32 The first jobs: making a living with no plan B20:49 Why people kept calling Guy back23:40 Does imposter syndrome ever go away?26:31 What Bernard Edwards meant to Guy32:00 From band member to session player35:13 Murder on the Dancefloor and the bass line you barely notice37:08 Guy’s process for creating a bass part40:34 Has the music business become harder for working players?43:38 What Guy would tell his younger self about a music career47:38 The relationships that disappear between tours49:32 How to handle life when a tour ends51:22 Bass lines Guy wishes he’d written54:35 The bass part Guy is proudest of56:28 The bass players who give Guy stage fright58:47 How Guy became a stand-up storyteller1:01:43 Recording with Robbie Robertson1:04:41 The time Michael Jackson hid in the studio1:07:21 One bass line every player should learn
Still want to read more... We get into how Guy actually creates bass parts in the studio, why he sometimes starts with absolutely no idea what to play, the 17-minute session that produced his bass part on Murder on the Dancefloor, and why he believes a great bass player can sometimes be like a great waiter: you barely notice them, but everything gets done. Guy also reflects on an industry that has changed almost beyond recognition. He explains why the music business may look bleak while opportunities for working players aren't necessarily as bad as they appear, why personal relationships matter so much to making great music, and the huge amount of downtime that nobody sees behind a successful touring career. Plus: playing with Bernard Edwards, being wound up by David Gilmour before a Pink Floyd bass solo, recording Earth Song and Like a Prayer, working with Robbie Robertson, the bass lines he wishes he'd written — and why bell ringing has somehow generated more media attention than almost anything else he's done. Subscribe to Now That's Bass for honest conversations with professional bass players about playing, careers and what it really takes to make a life in music. #GuyPratt #BassGuitar #BassPlayer #PinkFloyd #DavidGilmour #NowThatsBass #madonna
More from Now That’s Bass
What gets you hired as a professional bass player — and what does it take to stay relevant across decades of musical change? Charlie Jones has worked with Robert Plant and Jimmy Page, spent around 18 years with Goldfrapp, produced and co-written music with Siouxsie Sioux, and toured with The Cult.
What would you do if Bryan Adams called and gave you six days to learn his arena set? Richard Jones nearly said no. In this episode, The Feeling bassist explains how he tackled the challenge—and what years of gigs, setbacks and unexpected opportunities taught him about earning a living in music. Richard joins Pete Roythorne to explore why having your own sound can make you the right person for a gig, how a working rhythm section helped him land Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s audition, and why he temporarily stepped away from her band when their relationship began. There are practical lessons in learning songs quickly, building musical chemistry and recognising the value of gigs that appear to go nowhere. Richard also tells the story of the “Sewn” demo that survived an expensive studio remake, and makes the case for keeping live bass players onstage. In this conversation: • What ten shows a week taught The Feeling about playing together. • The value of learning by ear—and why Richard still wishes he could sight-read. • How Spike Stent helped preserve the performance behind “Sewn”. • Why an individual sound matters when people decide who to hire. • Preparing for Bryan Adams: manageable practice blocks, the hardest songs first and getting off the page. • Saying yes to a frightening opportunity without letting the next gig consume your time off. Follow Now That’s Bass for more honest conversations about working lives in music. If you enjoyed this episode, leave a rating on Spotify or a rating and review on Apple Podcasts—and share it with a musician who would find it useful. CHAPTERS 00:00 Richard Jones: a working life in bass 01:00 The Millennium Falcon bass story 05:22 Finding bass—and your place in a band 13:54 How bass shapes the whole arrangement 19:10 What you lose when bass goes on track 21:31 Music school, ear skills and real work 27:36 How a covers gig built The Feeling 32:28 The edge that won Sophie’s audition 38:48 Hearing the hit inside the demo 44:29 Why Richard stepped out of Sophie’s band 49:52 Why the “Sewn” demo beat the remake 53:10 Finding the sound that gets you hired 1:02:42 The call from Bryan Adams 1:08:25 Learning an arena set in six days 1:18:00 Stop letting the next gig consume you
What does it actually take to build — and sustain — a career as a professional bass player? John Garrison has spent 18 years playing bass with James Blunt and has recorded with artists including Lewis Capaldi, Ed Sheeran, Christina Aguilera, Josh Groban, Passenger and Benson Boone. But his route into that world wasn't built around sight-reading, virtuosity or chasing the spotlight. In fact, John can't read music.
Nick Owen spent ten years at London’s Bass Centre during an era when it brought together bass players from around the world. He remembers the famous names who passed through, the clinics, the unlikely encounters and, above all, the community that formed around a shop where people could try an instrument and talk to someone who knew it inside out. What did working there teach him about basses and the people who play them? And could a place like that exist again?
What happens when the career you spent years building starts taking away the thing you loved about music in the first place?