The names of the church modes are Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian, and Locrian, and they match geographic or ethnic regions in ancient Greece. The philosophy writings of both Plato and Aristotle (approx 350 BCE) include large sections that describe the effect of different musical modes on mood and on character formation. For example, this quote from Aristotle's "Politics":

"The musical modes differ essentially from one another, and those who hear them are differently affected by each. Some of them make men sad and grave, like the so called Mixolydian; others enfeeble the mind, like the relaxed modes; another, again, produces a moderate or settled temper, which appears to be the peculiar effect of the Dorian; and the Phrygian inspires enthusiasm."

Both Plato and Aristotle believed that the modes to which a person listened molded the person's character. The modes even made the person more or less fit for certain jobs. The effect of modes on character and mood was called the 'ethos of music.'... So concepts like "Rock 'n roll can rot your mind." aren't really that new after all.

One problem is that, whereas many writings specify how the ancient Greeks thought about scales, and how they constructed some of their scales, nothing exists to identify which modes were called Mixolydian, Dorian, Phrygian, etc. As of about 1997, not one Greek mode had been completely deciphered, let alone associated with a particular name. We simply don't know the specific scales to which Plato and Aristotle were referring.

Moving ahead 400 years to 50 AD, the early Christian Church used music in worship. Their modes (scales) came from Jewish temple songs and from other common modes in the Middle East and Eastern Mediterranean. Different modes were used at different times and for different parts of their services. Each mode started (actually, ended) on a different note and had a unique set of intervals. The modes were simply numbered Mode 1, Mode 2, and so on. Notice that this is *400* years after Plato and Aristotle. And there are no Greek names assigned to the modes at this time.

450 years later, in about 520 AD Manlius Boethius, an Italian philosopher, translated Aristotle's works on logic into Latin. He also wrote articles on music theory. Boethius embraced Aristotle's concept of ethos, and ascribed the ancient Greek views of mood creation and character formation to the church modes. He made assumptions about which of the modes used in church services matched the ancient Greek modes named by Aristotle. Bear in mind that Boethius was writing *850* years after Aristotle. The man couldn't have had a clue as to which church mode matched, e.g., Aristotle's Mixolydian mode. That sort of detail was lost centuries before.

80 years later, in roughly 600 AD, Pope Gregory I (after whom Gregorian Chant was named) classified all the music used in the church. While Gregory certainly knew of Boethius assignment of ancient Greek names to the modes used for church music, the church continued to use the number system. It was not until about 900 AD that authors began to apply Boethius' incorrect ancient Greek names to the Medieval Church Modes.

The next milepost in the misnaming of church modes happened over a 75 to 100 year period ending in roughly 1675 ... when the church modes of Gregory were expressed as permutations of the then new major-minor scale system.

That's when the modes became formalized into what we know and use today. The Greek names became convenient labels for particular scales, though there is no certain tie between the notes in any modern church mode and the notes in any ancient Greek mode. Locrian mode was 'invented' to complete a theoretical picture. It is unlikely that *anyone* ever actually sang anything in Locrian mode ... 'cept maybe for some jazzers.

Sometimes the church modes are described in terms of a process whereby the notes may be sounded. E.g., Phrygian mode can sounded by playing the white keys on a piano from E to E. But Phrygian mode is not just a C scale starting on a different note. Phrygian mode *on E* has E as a tonic. The church modes are in no way derived from a major scale. They were used for centuries before the major-minor scale system was developed.

Ancient tho they may be, I personally find modes useful tools for constructing bass lines and useful tools for thinking about interactions between certain chords and scales. And there really *are* songs in the modes ... 'cept maybe for Locrian.

I have just added a String Charger pickup to the Underwood (+Barcus Berry impedance matcher) already on my Kay Swingmaster URB. Thanks to those who recommended it to me. This is a report of my first experience with it.

The Underwood, a piezo pickup which attaches to the bridge, works great for most of what I play, (acoustic blues in quite bars and bookstores, some recent church music). And it comes (fairly) close to capturing the 'real' sound of my bass when recording. But the Underwood just can't handle loud stage volumes, as when onstage with a high wattage electric blues band. The bass acts like a microphone when stage volume goes up, and feedback with the Underwood makes the bass unusable.

The String Charger is a magnetic pickup which attaches to the end of the finger board. It senses string vibrations, just like the magnetic pickups on a Fender jazz bass, and is reported to work well in high stage volumes.

The String Charger is available for $250 direct from the manufacturer, Pierre Josephs Violins and Basses, Larkspur, CA. Mr. Josephs also makes a piezo attachment for an additional $37. Since I already have the Underwood, I opted for the String Charger only.

Mr. Josephs only accepts mail orders accompanied by a cashier's check ... no phone orders, credit cards, or personal checks. If you want one of these pickups for a particular date, plan ahead. It took 10 days (IMO, a reasonable time) from when I dropped my check in the mail until the String Charger was delivered to my door by insured US post. There is a 30 day, money-back-if-you're-not-satisfied, guarantee. So I intend to test it in as many different situations as possible during the next month.

The pickup is made of quality material, and the workmanship is excellent. The part of the pickup that holds the magnets is covered in a black plastic or rubberized material to match the appearance of a typical bass fingerboard. The assembly attaches to the underside of the bass fingerboard with Velcro.

The magnetic pickup has a 1 inch wide (x3 inch long) piece of metal which has a Velcro strip on it. Installation is a matter of putting a single 1x3 in Velcro strip on the underside of the bass fingerboard, then zipping the pickup onto it.

Installing the pickup took only a minute or two. There are hand screws on the pickup to adjust the curvature of the pickup and the distance between the pickup and the strings (thus adjusting tone and volume). Standing a few feet away from the bass, the assembly simply looks like an extension of the fingerboard.

There is a standard 1/4 in instrument jack for connecting the pickup to an amp. You do have to take precautions to keep the cable out of the way of the strings. It was easiest for me to run the cable from the pickup, over the lower bout on the G side of the bass, and then around the back of the bass and to the amp.

1) The underside on my fingerboard is curved. The mounting strip on the pickup is not. When I zip the pickup onto the bass, the 2 Velcro strips make contact only along the edges. The pickup is not attached as firmly as I would like. It did not loosen while I was playing, but I have no doubt that it could be dislodged in the gig bag if I left it attached during a transit. The pickup is heavy enuf and has a few edges that are sharp enuf to do damage if it was allowed to rattle around.

2) Electronics are attached to a strip of metal that extends down about an inch and a half from the pickup. The bottom edge of the strip is exposed. The corners are rounded, but the piece is capable of serious wood damage should it ever be drawn across the bass. One has to be very careful when attaching or removing the pickup. I intend to put protective padding over the edges of that metal strip.

And again, because of the fit between the pickup and my fingerboard, I would *never* leave the pickup attached during transit. Fortunately, attaching and detaching it is easy.

The first thing I noticed was the tone. I was expecting it to sound like a fretless Fender jazz bass, but it was much richer or fuller than that ... richer even than the couple of EUB's I've messed with. I imagine some factors which contribute to making it sound different from a Fender jazz are the very long (42 inch) scale length, the much thicker strings, and, of course, the particulars of my bass.

With the bass about 3 feet directly in front of the amp, I could crank in full pre amp gain and 9/10 master volume before any ringing set in ... that's almost full volume without feedback.

The acid test came at a Memorial Day picnic and out door jam session. This is a wonderful annual party ... a continuous jam session with good friends from many different bands. The only bad thing is that the stage volume can get to ear bleed levels. Normally, I wouldn't even consider taking the URB.

But with String Charger affixed, I took my Kay on stage to play blues with: 1) a blues guitarist with a Fender Twin, 2) a rock guitarist with a Marshall stack taller than I, 3) a harp player with a mic'd Fender Twin, 4) a keyboard player with 400 watts of something-or-other in a 15in cab about 2 feet behind me. At least the drummer had a fairly soft touch.

I was playing thru somebody's SWR something head into what I believe was a Bag End 2x12 cab. The EQ was flat. Both pre amp gain and master volume were set at about 6/10. I think those amp settings were similar to what others were using with their passive EBGs most of the day.

The keyboard amp was loud and close enuf to make it difficult for me to keep intonation. While not ear ringing loud, this was the loudest stage I had ever hauled an URB onto.

I am delighted to report that the String Charger worked very, very well. Several people told me that the tone, while not exactly like an URB, was distinctive nonetheless ... with more bottom shaking bottom end than any of the EBG's. Another bass player in the audience suggested that it sounded much like an EUB.

I noticed that slapping and popping requires a *much* lighter touch with the String Charger. And some of the other effects I use, such as tapping the bridge or body, just don't work with it at all. I didn't try the bow with it, but then again, I don't expect to be in a situation where I would want to.

I prefer to play URB with the least amplification possible ... unamplified if possible, or with just the Underwood, if the stage volume will allow. And I will continue to record with a mic and/or the Underwood.

The String Charger, IMO, does *not* sound like an unamplified URB. Many of the lovely nuances are missing. Nor does it sound like an URB with piezo pickup. Again, nuances are missing. But it does sound different from an EBG. And with the String Charger I can play URB in an important (to me) environment previously closed to my setup.

No big church feast is complete without tales such as this from the choir. These are the golden threads from which the tapestry of real liturgy is woven.

1) On Holy Thursday there was a song which she was supposed start by sounding a single ring, to be followed immediately by a cluster of 4 or 5 other bells. Everyone was keying off her note. And she was also supposed to sound this solo note at the beginning of each verse.

The time had come to start the song, and all eyes in the church were on the bell choir. The director gave the ringer her cue. She gathered herself and gave the bell a huge swing ... but nothing happened. Again, the cue ... again, a huge swing ... and, again, nothing ... not a sound.

After the third try, the director cued the other bells and the song started. Still, the poor ringer was left having to make this huge, solo, but absolutely silent swing at the start of every verse.

2) At Saturday Night Easter vigil, we were going to do an up tempo reggae Alleluia. It was supposed to start with a growling bass intro, and then the bell choir would jump in with enthusiastic percussion. The ringer who had the bell problem on Thursday was ready with a wood block and a mallet ... a stick with a little ball on the end. The very first time she hit the block, the head flew off the mallet. It went straight up. Every eye in the choir followed the mallet head as it arched up towards the ceiling, and plummeted back down to whack the raised lid of the grand piano. The mallet head ricocheted off of the piano lid and whistled 40 feet across the church at head level. It's a miracle that no one was hit.

3) The ringer was there again on Easter Sunday morning. I asked if she was ready for the reggae thing again, and if I needed to wear a hard hat this time. She said, "Don't worry. Carl (the director) has me on a restricted instrument set today ... only solid wood claves." And the bell choir had awarded her a small plaque ... the "No Bell Prize."

One of the funniest things I ever experienced while playing bass happened in church on Christmas morning in 1995 or 1996. The ensemble had scheduled a number of traditional Christmas songs, and I was going to bow the upright bass for most of them. On Christmas morning, the ensemble's electric guitarist, a high school student, noticed that I had set up two music stands and was using photo reduced copies of the scores. It was set so that I would not have to turn a page during any song. The guitarist asked if he could set up beside me and read off my charts. Of course, I said "Yes," and he squeezed in immediately to my left, between me and the drum kit.

The first song was "Good Christian Men Rejoice", and things were going great. The congregation was thundering along. My nose was deep in the reduced size score and I was sawing away on the bass in a huge cloud of rosin dust.

All of a sudden, at the start of the second verse, the bow stopped short ... there was this grunt, followed by a loud thwang, a cymbal crash ... and giggles. I looked up to see the guitarist, wide eyed, bent over, clutching his hand to his chest, with his rear end backed into a stack of cymbals. The drummer, also wide eyed, was supporting the guitarist's rump with his right elbow, and holding up a cymbal stand with his right hand ... all the while keeping a high hat going with his left hand.

Turns out that I had stabbed the guitarist in the hand with the bow. He just inched in too close and got tagged. It didn't hurt him, but had startled him big time. He grunted, flinched enough to scrape his pick across the strings ( the loud thwang), and then stumbled back into the cymbal stand (the cymbal crash). The whole thing happened right in front of the soprano section and they lost it (the giggles). The director and other people in the choir ... usually a very disciplined group ... were looking around trying to figure out what had made the odd sounds, and why the guitarist was hunched over in the middle of the drum kit ... and during this whole slapstick scene, the drummer, consummate pro that he is, never lost a beat.