Widely regarded as one of the best bassists to ever come out of Nashville’s recording scene, Michael Rhodes laid it down for a host of inconic performers, including Dolly Parton, Vince Gill, Reba McEntire, Randy Travis, Rosanne Cash, Steve Winwood, Elton John, and Joe Bonamassa. Along the way, he not only set himself apart via his unique approach to the bass but also through his love and passion for music, the arts at large, and all that life had to offer him along the way. He passed away on March 4th, 2023, and this series is dedicated to exploring the legacy he left behind through the reflections of some of those in the music world who knew him best.
In the first part of this series, we heard from Glenn Worf, Mike Brignardello, Rodney Crowell, and Vince Gill, each of whom met Michael earlier on in his Nashville career. In the second part, we hear from a few of those who met him mid-way through his time in Music City, such as A-list session drummer Greg Morrow, producer and songwriter Josh Leo, Nashville guitar legend Brent Mason, fellow bass ace Victor Wooten, and Saturday Night Live drummer Shawn Pelton.
You can’t talk about great drummers in Nashville without mentioning Greg Morrow. A well-established, A-list studio session player, Greg’s grooves can be heard on albums by everyone from Blake Shelton, Amy Grant, and Gretchen Wilson to Don Henley, Bad Company, and Billy Gibbons. In 2008 and 2015, Greg won the Academy of Country Music Studio Recording Award for “Drummer of the Year.”
On their first meeting:
I remember the first time I met Michael very well. It was the early-’90s, and I hadn’t yet moved to Nashville. I’d done some work with Warren Haynes [of Gov’t Mule] in Memphis previously. Warren was going to do a record for Megaforce, and he wanted me to be a part of it. Chuck Leavell [of the Allman Brothers] was going to produce it, and it was kind of a split band. Some of it was going to involve the guys he was playing with live at the time, which was a great band in and of itself. Steve Holley was the drummer, he played with Paul McCartney for a good number of years. The other half of the album was going to be played by studio musicians, so Chuck called me in Memphis and asked me to play drums. Johnny Neel and Chuck were going to play keys, and, obviously, Warren was playing guitar. I learned Michael was going to be the bass player, and although I already knew who he was, I had never met him at the time, so I was very excited.
First of all, his presence always filled a room when he came in, but not in a domineering way. It was just a good human energy, you know? I remember he came in and cleansed the studio with some white sage, and I realized I liked the smell of white sage. But it was something to experience.
The thing that I always was struck by with Michael was that he could play his “gut bucket,” simple-as-you-could-ever-want groove, legitimately, but he could stretch the feel musically at the same time. It was amazing how deep his well ran.
Greg Morrow
On their first time playing together:
From the first note we played together, Michael immediately knew all of my “tells.” He knew what I was fixing to do, as I was fixing to do it, which made it sound like I knew what he was fixing to do, too, right? But it was really the other way around. It was a very natural thing. And you know how you can read people’s faces and kind of know whether they’re enjoying what’s going on? It seemed like Michael was, and I appreciated that. That record, Tales of Ordinary Madness[Megaforce Records, 1993] was the start of a good number of years of us getting to share a lot of great music together.
On Michael’s feel:
The thing that I always was struck by with Michael was that he could play his “gut bucket,” simple-as-you-could-ever-want groove, legitimately, but he could stretch the feel musically at the same time. It was amazing how deep his well ran. Sometimes, in situations where you wouldn’t have thought it would have worked, he was able to make it work and stretch things to a place that I never thought we would get to, and yet there we were. He could be very adventurous but never to a fault. It was always appropriate, and he was very much in command of where he was going all the time. You could just count on that, and that makes you feel very comfortable and confident in “the engine room,” so to speak.
On some favorite live gigs:
We played a bunch of dates together with Trisha Yearwood and obviously a lot of dates with Joe Bonamassa. All of that was great, but my favorite live gig with him was playing with Pat McLaughlin, which was always a local thing. I don’t know why exactly; it was just that there was something that resonated with Michael in Pat’s situation. I’m sure it was the long-standing relationship that he, Kenny Greenberg, and Pat shared. That terrific combination of truly loving Pat’s material and his delivery made it a unique situation because Pat drove the groove of the band with his rhythm guitar playing, so it was just a different grounding, so to speak. It allowed for a lot of music to be made with just four people, and all four of us in that band cherished those moments. It was always something we looked forward to because musically it was a very grounding experience. We would have all been off into session world, which can be a grind sometimes, and we’d get kinda consumed by that. If one of those Pat gigs popped up, though, we knew we were going to get cleansed, get it all worked out, and then we could start fresh. That’s the thing I know I loved most in a live situation with Michael.
On some favorite records:
Recording-wise, there were a lot of great records we played on. The first two Dixie Chicks records come to mind, and the Rodney Crowell stuff, and the Cicadas record that we did together. Another of my favorites was a Lee Ann Womack record, Call Me Crazy [MCA Nashville, 2008], that Tony Brown produced. Lee Ann is an amazing vocalist, and they weren’t chasing anything particular with the material they picked for the record; they were just picking songs that resonated with her, that she wanted to deliver. When the stars align like that around a great batch of songs—good players, a great producer, and a great singer—it’s very magical.
On Michael’s wide-ranging interests:
Michael was a very broad thinker. I don’t know how to best put it, but he could go down a lot of paths and talk knowledgeably about many subjects. So, you never lacked for conversation. The worst thing you could do is try to take a walk and talk with him, though, because you could never keep up. He had the longest stride of anybody I knew. We were the same height, but, man, I could not keep up with him! On the road, we would go record shopping and try to find a good Indian restaurant. He loved Indian food, and I did too. We spent lots of hours in great Indian places everywhere we went. There was one in particular we found when we would play in Philly with Joe Bonamassa, two blocks from the Four Seasons, named Veda, and it wouldn’t be unusual for us to go there at least a couple of times while we were playing in that area. It just always made for a great evening. He was deep and very passionate in his ideas and philosophies, and we got to share a lot in those areas, especially in the last six or seven years. We shared very close thoughts about a lot of things like that, and, on a personal level, got to know each other’s deepest kind of feelings about all kinds of stuff. I cherish that.
On the power of meaningful relationships:
Someone like Michael passing so suddenly makes you conscious of paying more attention to stay in touch with people who mean a lot to you and, if nothing else, let them know what they mean to you occasionally, because you never know. You might be telling them that at a time they really need to hear it.
I’m so blessed to have gotten to share life and music with Michael. I learned so much from him—musically and personally—and I’ll always carry that with me.
I’ve been talking about him in the past tense in this conversation, but I don’t think about him in the past tense. I don’t really think of any of my friends and family who have moved on in the past tense, because I carry them all with me. All those relationships are still with me, and they still guide me and influence me. The same is true with Michael. I still think about him a lot, and I always will.
Josh Leo
Josh is a guitarist, singer, songwriter, and producer based in Nashville. As a producer, he’s worked with a host of Music City artists, including Alabama, Restless Heart, LeeAnn Rimes, and Reba McEntire. He’s also served as vice president and head of A&R at RCA Records—Nashville. In the last few years, he and fellow Nashville musicians (including Michael Rhodes) formed a collaborative project named the Vinyl Kings, and this ended up being one of the last projects Michael worked on, in 2023.
On first getting to know Michael:
I first met Michael around 1987. I had moved from Los Angeles in 1985 with a bunch of other Los Angeles people, like Jim Photoglo, Harry Stinson, and Vince Melamed, and we banded together and started doing demos to try to make a living. We called ourselves the “LAliens,” because we were from L.A. Not long after, I was on a session with Michael and asked him if he would join LAliens, and he said, “Sure. L.A. stands for lower Alabama, so I qualify, right? So, he became part of the LAliens, and we started with just demos at first. Then I started producing the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, J.C. Crowley, Player, Juice Newton, and all kinds of people, and I used Michael religiously on everything.
I think the only time I get didn’t get to use Michael was if I was producing Alabama, since Teddy Gentry, the bass player for Alabama, wanted to play bass on the records. Otherwise, Michael was there. He was not only the best bass player in town, but he was probably the best musician in the room. And that’s saying a lot because, as you know, sometimes there were all these monster players there. I felt it was like having our own Jaco in the room. I didn’t want to tell him that, though. I was thinking, “Man, I don’t know why you’re playing with us. You deserve a lot better than us,” but I didn’t want to jinx it. I thought to myself, “Man, don’t say anything. You’ve got one of the best in the United States right here playing on these dates.”
I enjoyed many sessions that I produced that Michael played on, and ones that I played on, too. I remember recording the song, “Tobacco Road,” with the Cicadas in the late-’90s, with me and Steuart Smith on guitars, Michael on bass, Rodney on vocals, and Greg Morrow on drums. Man, that was a mighty fucking day. And it was only one song, but I just wanted it to go on forever. It was just so rockin’ and great.
On Michael’s style:
What impressed me about Michael’s playing was his melodic sense. Later, we would be in a band together called the Del Beatles, which morphed into the Vinyl Kings, but at the time it was a cover band doing Beatles stuff. I was always a huge McCartney fan, and, at the time, it seemed that everybody else in Nashville was just 1-5 heavy, you know? But Michael had a way of laying down these other notes besides the 5 that we would be playing. Paul McCartney does that all the time, of course. But Michael would go places on the bass and everybody’s head would turn like, “Holy shit!” The low end would become melodic, and he would lead us places that bass players don’t normally go. The normal bass player was always following the drummer, laying it down, and that was like safe. But sometimes with Michael, you’d be like, “Oh, shit, we’re going somewhere, right? This turnaround is going to be exciting.”
Michael was always leading the band, and over the years, he and I were in seven or eight different local bands around here. I’d get bored, call him, and say, “Hey, it’s time to start another band.” And he would always say to me, “Okay, but don’t call anybody. Have you called anybody yet?” And I’d say, “Nope,” and he would say, “Let me bring in the guys.” So, I would let him bring in the players. He turned me on to Reese Wynans, Pete Abbott, and others I had not played with yet.
On one of Michael’s last projects:
As I mentioned earlier, we used to have a band called the Del Beatles, and it started as a cover band in the late-’80s. We did a bunch of Beatles stuff and a bunch of ’60s music, and quickly became the number one cover band for all the record company Christmas parties and all kinds of things that used to happen back in the ’90s. We were having a good time doing that, and one day I suggested that we make something like a lost Beatle record and write some songs that sounded like Beatles songs to challenge ourselves. So all of us got together and started writing songs. We changed the name of the band to the Vinyl Kings, and we did the first record sometime in the early-’90s, and then a second record in the late-’90s. And then we stopped. More recently, though, after my wife passed away two and a half years ago, one of the guys in the Vinyl Kings suggested that we get back together and try to do another record, and that’s what we ended up doing. It’s a pretty good record, I have to say. Michael played bass on it, and when he came over to my house to record it, probably just a few months before he passed, he didn’t look good. I just figured it was from the heart operation that he had, but none of us knew what else was going on at that time.
Michael had a way of playing that was like he was saying, ‘I’m laying this down. You better follow me, you sons of bitches!’ It was just the way he played. He brought 100% of the heat, and it just made you play better.
Josh Leo
My wife had passed away from pancreatic cancer, and she didn’t tell anybody and didn’t want anybody to know. Michael didn’t want anybody to know, either, but he called me a couple of weeks before he passed and told me what was going on, but he made clear that he didn’t want me to say anything to anyone, so I didn’t tell anybody. I talked to him and his wife, Lindsey, around that time. I can’t say the Vinyl Kings was the absolute last thing he played on, because I’m pretty sure it wasn’t, but it was at least one of the last he played on.
On Michael’s charisma and impact:
Michael had a way of playing that was like he was saying, “I’m laying this down. You better follow me, you sons of bitches!” It was just the way he played. He brought 100% of the heat, and it just made you play better. Onstage, he would come over, and, if you weren’t bringing it or sleepwalking through things, he would bump you with his shoulder and wake you up. Sometimes, he would walk over and just shoulder me, almost knocking me over, like saying, “Wake up, Leo. Wake up!” The guy brought 100% of life into playing, into the studio, into live shows. He was 100% alive all the time. I miss him dearly. It’s a much dimmer world without the light of Michael Rhodes, I can tell you that, but we will go on, and we’ll try to do it in his honor.
Check out the Vinyl Kings newest album, featuring Michael on bass, here: Big New Life
A Grammy Award-winning artist, Brent is also a 14x winner of the Academy of Country Music (ACM) Guitarist of the Year Award, and a two-time winner of the CMA Award Musician of the Year (being nominated every year since 1991). He’s played on more than a thousand albums, and in 2019 he was inducted into the Musician’s Hall of Fame, and then into the Country Music Hall of Fame Nashville Cats in 2023. When he’s not in the studio, you can find him leading workshops or teaching in a variety of settings.
On first impressions:
I think I first met Michael on a session in the mid-to-late-’80s. At that time, he was playing with the Nerve, with Kenny Greenberg and some of those guys. He always dressed very hip and modern, and he had a sardonic sense of humor. You could tell if he took a liking to you because he was going to tease you—always in an endearing way, of course. He could be a bit intimidating, too. Very witty and intellectual. I could see the depth in him, and he carried that over into his music. He was a very well-read, well-cultured, spiritual man.
On being in the Players with Michael:
I loved being in the Players with Michael. That band was made up of Paul Franklin, Eddie Bayers, John Hobbs, Michael, and me. In the late-’90s or early 2000s, we toured Japan, and Rodney Crowell even came with us, too, You could tell Michael enjoyed the trip. He was fascinated with the culture and embraced wherever he was, especially the food. One time, we were served fermented squid, and the rest of us were like, “No thanks,” but Michael just tore into it and loved it. He knew so much about different cultures, and it was great to hang out with him on that trip.
He was more into low, ballsy, big notes, and syncopated phrasing, and beautiful runs here and there. The right note in the right place. I would be in the studio, he would play something, and I would think, “I never would have thought of that.”
Brett Mason
On Michael’s musicality:
A lot of his worldliness and understanding of cultures went into his playing. He loved Coltrane, and Jaco, of course. He never really got into the popping and slapping stuff. He was more into low, ballsy, big notes, and syncopated phrasing, and beautiful runs here and there. The right note in the right place. That kind of thing. I would be in the studio, he would play something, and I would think, “I never would have thought of that.”
He had that kind of Muscle Shoals, laid back thing to his approach. His sense of groove was impeccable, and his sound was a hallmark of Nashville. When playing with the Players, even when he took a bass solo, it wasn’t like you thought, “Hey, that guy knows a lot of scales,” ya know? It was just his kind of phrasing and, sometimes, craziness, even physically. Sometimes it would be the best solo of the whole night. In short, he was a monster player, always coming up with unexpected parts that fit so well. He would come up with unexpected riffs that would make the songs stand out even more.
Michael also brought the “roadhouse” country sound back to the studio. He gave the sessions a live rock and pop feel. He brought a reckless abandon to whatever he did with a rhythm section. Some people sometimes thought he was a little cocky with his attitude and humor, and he was, but once you got to know him, you found it endearing. He was one of the best.
Five-time Grammy Award winning bassist Victor Wooten is a well-established name across the world when it comes to the electric bass. A founding member of the Flecktones, Victor’s unique style and impeccable groove has led to him being listed as one of the top ten bassists by Rolling Stone Magazine. In addition, he’s a celebrated educator, who teaches at his own camps (VixCamps) and at Berklee College of Music, and he’s also an award-winning novelist (The Music Lesson). A longtime resident of Nashville, you can currently catch him on tour with his talented siblings, the Wooten Brothers.
On getting to know Michael:
I moved to Nashville at the end of 1988, and Michael was one of the guys I started hearing about. He was at the top of every list. Nashville is such a studio town, and back then it was like the studio scene kind of ruled the town and the people. I don’t want to use the term “judge,” but I can’t think of another one that fits. Musicians were judged/measured by their studio playing, not so much their live playing. It was definitely more of a studio town than a live town, and that was because that’s where musicians made their money. Nashville’s a town where you often just play for the door, you know.
I eventually met Michael at a local gig. I don’t remember who was playing (maybe Jonell Mosser), but I do remember introducing myself, and I knew that I was finally meeting the guy everybody was talking about. What I remember most about his playing that night, however, was his tone.
His notes were so big and round. His whole note was real whole note, you know? It’s like I could play that note for the same length, but it wasn’t as big as his.
Victor Wooten
On Michael’s Tone:
Tone was a thing I didn’t really grow up paying attention to, or at least not a whole lot. I just played. But when I got to Nashville, I found out it was all about tone because it was such a big studio scene. And Michael was one of those players that never overplayed. He played what was right for the song, and with the best tone.
As a result, I started paying attention to the tone of the bass—not just what I played, but how I made what I played sound. After that first time I saw him, I would go watch him play with Jonelle Mosser. I know Jonelle would use him whenever she could, and I remember always seeing and hearing him play at small places in Nashville, like the Bluebird. It was cool because you could really hear what was happening musically.
In watching and listening to him play, I learned that I could play the same notes that Michael played live or on a record, but my notes didn’t sound like that. And I realized a big part of it was his approach to tone. His notes were so big and round. His whole note was real whole note, you know? It’s like I could play that note for the same length, but it wasn’t as big as his. And the main takeaway for me was that I had to learn how to make my notes as round as Michael’s. In fact, Michael’s one of the main reasons that I talk about tone the way I do now.
On Michael’s presence:
Michael and I would only see each other now and then at gigs, usually festivals. He was very kind and cordial and seemed to be soft spoken, but he had an intense presence, and it seemed to me that the presence was also in his playing. As I often say, you talk like you play. Michael didn’t overtalk, and he didn’t overplay. He said what he needed to say in person and on the bass.
A gigging drummer since his early teens in Kansas City, Missouri, Shawn moved to New York shortly after earning a bachelor’s degree in percussion from Indiana University and quickly became a first-call session player. In 1992, Shawn joined the Saturday Night Live Band, a gig he still holds to this day. Playing on TV didn’t slow his studio career down, though, and his extensive list of session credits include Sheryl Crow, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel, Kelly Clarkson, David Byrne, and Ray Charles. Among other Grammy-winning albums of note, Shawn played on Shawn Colvin’s seminal, two-time Grammy Award-winning album, A Few Small Repairs [Columbia, 1986], with Michael Rhodes on bass.
On recording with Michael:
I first met Michael through producer John Leventhal when we recorded that Colvin record back in ’96. And then, because it did so well, winning “Record of the Year” and “Song of the Year” at the Grammys, there were other opportunities that came up where we got to work together. We never got to work as much as we had hoped though, with him being based there in Nashville and me being stuck up here in New York, but there were times when I would go down there and stay at his house and hang with him. We always had fun when we worked together. I think it was kind of us both having southern roots. He was one of the most soulful spirits on the planet and also incredibly fun. We would laugh our asses off together.
He had this ability to play the most simple thing so incredibly deep, but then he also had the ability to play such a wide range of music and step out and do a wide variety of gigs. His range was incredible.
Shawn Pelton
On Michael’s pocket:
I feel like Michael had one of the deepest pockets of any musician on any instrument. His feel was really on a whole other level—just such a deep, deep pocket. He had this ability to play the most simple thing so incredibly deep, but then he also had the ability to play such a wide range of music and step out and do a wide variety of gigs. His range was incredible.
I remember one time we were talking, and I said, “You remind me of when I saw Elvin Jones play the first time.” Elvin would go from having a sound that encompassed the most childlike innocence and joy of making music to the most evil side of its emotional range and depth. I’ve only seen that in a couple people, and Michael was one of them. I mean, damn, it was such an inspiration playing with someone that you could go that deep with in music.
In 2004, I got to work with Michael on a record that he produced for Randall Bramlett, called Thin Places [New West Records, 2004]. It was great working with Michael on something that he was producing, because, as a sideman himself who had been a part of so many records, he had an excellent production style. He was very cool and let the musicians do what they needed to do, all combined with a big picture view of parts and arrangements that were inspired.
On Michael’s spirit:
Michael had very special spirit. I remember getting into the studio and just diving in with him, bearing down on the music. I can see still him in that iso room. He was all in, you know, when he played something. Every time he touched the instrument, it was for real, 100%.
You can check out Shawn and Michael on Colvin’s “Sunny Came Home” from her A Few Small Repairs album here:
Up Next for Part 3/3: Joe Bonamassa, Tully Kennedy, Anton Fig, and Amy Grant.
Rod C. Taylor, Ph.D., is an award-winning educator, author, and musician who has been active in playing and teaching music for over thirty years. He’s taught at Stanford, Indiana University, and the Honors College at Tennessee State University and has served as an Artist-in-Residence and Director of Commercial Music Ensembles in the School of Music at Lipscomb University in Nashville, TN. He’s also the founder and CEO of Performance Learning Concepts.
Over the years, he’s written for a number of music magazines, including Bass Player Magazine, and Bass Guitar Magazine. He’s published a textbook, Etunes, which explores the effects of digital technology on the music industry and continues to write for magazines and journals on new ways to approach music education. For years, Rod has also led interactive music workshops and classes on a variety of topics, from songwriting to song charting to creativity to ensemble training. As a performer, he’s has been fortunate enough to play with Krista Detor, Victor Wooten, Chuck Rainey, Jenee Fleenor, Leigh Nash, the Warren Brothers, and a variety of other great musicians. He’s proud to call Nashville, TN his home, and he’s thrilled to be part of the amazing group of players and writers that make up Bass Magazine.
By: Rod Taylor