R.I.P. 'Duck' Dunn

It was sad to hear about the passing of Donald "Duck" Dunn on Sunday night (NZ time, when I heard about it). He was on tour in Japan; he died in his sleep in his hotel room after performing two shows at Tokyo's Blue Note.

Duck Dunn is a legend.

As with so many of the great backing musicians you know their playing before you know their name; you know about them - musicians and music fans spread the word. Duck Dunn was a great bass player; his lifeblood flows through so many amazing songs. You still think you haven't heard of him at all? You've definitely heard him. That's him playing on those classic Otis Redding cuts you have; he's the  bass player on the superb Albert King record, Born Under a Bad Sign, he's on hit after hit from Wilson Pickett and Aretha Franklin and Isaac Hayes and so many others. He played on hundreds of smash-hits. He performed live around the world.

Dunn joined Booker T & The MG's in 1964, hooking up with childhood friend Steve Cropper and locking in with drummer Al Jackson, Jr and the organist/leader Booker T. They had hits in their own right - they recorded my favourite Beatles tribute, an instrumental interpretation of Abbey Road released just months after the original album.

But many people know the sound of Booker T & The MG's even if they never owned a Booker T record because the group became the house band for the Stax label.

After being part of the sound of some of the most important rock and soul music in the 1960s - so many enduring classics - Dunn moved to fulltime studio work. You can hear him on albums by Rod Stewart and Peter Frampton, Bill Withers and Muddy Waters. He played bass for Eric Clapton and Neil Young (appearing with Clapton at Live Aid) and he continued to work with Cropper and Jones.

There was a hiatus - there was time out. The MG's broke up for a time and then a new version was formed with Jackson's cousin on drums. And Dunn had some more time out in recent years before returning to the music he loved; the music he served.

That's him playing the bass-line on the Tom Petty/Stevie Nicks duet, Stop Dragging My Heart Around. He's on solo albums by drummers Doug Clifford and Levon Helm. He's on some of those Leo Sayer records you own. He's there with The Staple Singers and Freddie King, with Leon Russell and John Prine.

He played on Rod Stewart's A Night on the Town record and on tracks by Jimmy Buffett, Rufus Thomas, Roy Buchanan and Manhattan Transfer.

He worked hard.

Dunn was a self-taught player; he listened to records and played the notes where he thought they should go. He created his own style - a style that helped to shape post-1960s pop, rock, blues and soul music. A sound that still hooks you in, the lapping of the tides for (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay and the foot-tapping cool-strut for Hold On I'm Coming.

So many of Duck Dunn's bass-lines could be songs in themselves - studies in simplicity also; the perfect placement, knowing what to say and when (and how) to say it.

But he was the guy who worked for the song - who worked with the band. His job was to serve the music.

And that's what I thought about when I heard about his passing. About how we're losing those guys; the players who grew up with the music while it was happening, who knew inherently what to do. And who had no interest in being a star; that were honoured to have a career.

Apart from his Stax work and his role with Booker T & The MG's, Dunn is probably best known and recognised for his involvement with The Blues Brothers Band. Again, alongside lifelong pal Steve Cropper.

He even has a memorable line in the original movie: "We had a band powerful enough to turn goat piss into gasoline."

This was how I came to know Duck Dunn; to know about Duck Dunn. When I was obsessed with The Blues Brothers, watching it over and over as a child, I recognised the names Steve Cropper and Duck Dunn. They matched up with names I'd heard relating to Booker T & The MG's. I knew Green Onions - and now I knew where part of the rhythm section from The MG's had gone to. They were playing with The Blues Brothers.

This was no joke of a band - it was filled with great players and the records The Blues Brothers Band released are still pretty good to listen to.

What cemented Duck Dunn for me - his status, his place, his value - was when I was part of a Blues Brothers tribute band at high school. A teacher had set up the band - he was a bass player. We rehearsed at his place for a couple of weekends and then performed our bit, a handful of songs from the movie and the albums. We had horn players and a guitar player, two singers. I was on drums. Teacher played the bass.

At one point, looking through the set-list, one of the students pointed out that there were no songs with a chance for a bass solo or a drum solo. I remember thinking that you didn't really have drum solos (or bass solos) when playing the blues. Well, you could. Jimi Hendrix's Catfish Blues had one, midway through. It didn't feel right to me. Didn't seem like the correct thing to do.

So one of these kids was pushing the point, saying that there were trumpet and trombone spots in our set and obviously the singers - playing the two Blues Brothers - had plenty of time to shine. There was one track with a guitar solo (Shotgun Blues, from memory) but no bass or drum solos.

I was about to pipe up and say my bit, say that I was happy to not have such a thing.

And then, calmly, the bass-playing teacher said "no. No bass solos in the blues". He hadn't even taken his sunglasses off. But there was a shake of the head to add to his point. Someone questioned this, suggested it one more time. The teacher said, "Duck Dunn would never play a solo."

I made it a point to hear more of Duck Dunn's playing. I would find out that it had been all around me all along.

That conversation at the school-band rehearsal was nearly 20 years ago. It came straight back to me on Sunday night. Instant recall of that moment, something I've never really thought about - but in a way it's always been there. The best lesson from that teacher.

Donald "Duck" Dunn was one of music's great teachers - particularly because he approached it always as if he was still the student.

They're dropping like flies, it seems. He was one of the greatest.

Click here to check out the Donald "Duck" Dunn discography

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