"I don't really know why I chose bass except that it was different than guitar"
About this Quote
Bass is the classic contrarian choice that still has to do the unglamorous work, and Trevor Dunn’s shrug of an origin story nails that paradox. “I don’t really know why” performs a kind of anti-mythmaking: no destined calling, no heroic epiphany, just a kid’s instinct to step sideways from the obvious path. In rock culture, guitar is the default vehicle for ego and visibility. Choosing bass “because it was different” isn’t a technical argument; it’s an identity move. It’s the decision to be necessary rather than celebrated, to occupy the slot where you can shape everything without always being seen.
The subtext is a quiet critique of how scenes manufacture narratives. Musicians are expected to sell a story of purpose. Dunn undercuts that with candor, and the candor itself becomes a posture: authenticity as refusal to perform destiny. That matters in the broader alternative/experimental lineage he’s associated with, where “different” isn’t just preference; it’s an ethic. Bass, in those worlds, isn’t merely support. It’s texture, rhythm, subversion - a way to destabilize the song from inside the foundation.
There’s also an emotional truth packed into the simplicity. Lots of creative lives begin with a flimsy rationale: boredom with the obvious, attraction to the uncrowded lane, the pleasure of being the outlier. Dunn’s line legitimizes that small, impulsive beginning, suggesting that a career can grow from choosing the role that doesn’t come with a spotlight attached.
The subtext is a quiet critique of how scenes manufacture narratives. Musicians are expected to sell a story of purpose. Dunn undercuts that with candor, and the candor itself becomes a posture: authenticity as refusal to perform destiny. That matters in the broader alternative/experimental lineage he’s associated with, where “different” isn’t just preference; it’s an ethic. Bass, in those worlds, isn’t merely support. It’s texture, rhythm, subversion - a way to destabilize the song from inside the foundation.
There’s also an emotional truth packed into the simplicity. Lots of creative lives begin with a flimsy rationale: boredom with the obvious, attraction to the uncrowded lane, the pleasure of being the outlier. Dunn’s line legitimizes that small, impulsive beginning, suggesting that a career can grow from choosing the role that doesn’t come with a spotlight attached.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
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