Universal story of one man and his bass

IT'S a universal story with endless permutations, the one about the

chap who didn't want to become a musician so instead he became a

drummer, joined Des O'Connor's backing band, etc, etc.

In Eberhard Weber's case, he didn't want to become a musician so he

became a singer with German bandleader Horst Jankowski -- he whose big

hit, the insidiously jaunty A Walk In The Black Forest, seemed to hang

in the air like midges during the 1960s. Weber can't remember for sure

if he appeared on that record but he certainly recalls singing it many

times during his 10 years with Jankowski. ''Ten years,'' he reiterates.

''That was far too long, a youthful aberration.''

He had been dissuaded from the professional musician's life by his

protective, cello-playing father, who nevertheless started his son on

cello at the age of six. In his teens Weber switched to double bass and

later played jazz in his spare time while working for a company making

television commercials. It was his sister who got him involved in the

Jankowski choir.

After his escape from choral duties he began taking jazz more

seriously. He turned professional in 1972, when he discovered his

electrobass, a customised five-string solid-bodied instrument whose

instantly recognisable sound featured on a whole string of albums for

the ECM label, including his own award-winning Colours of Chloe and the

two still very listenable Solstice albums with guitarist Ralph Towner.

For 10 years Weber led his own group, the popular Colours, but since

1982 he has been a member of saxophonist Jan Garbarek's regular touring

group. This satisfies his need to play with other musicians and allows

him time to concentrate on playing solo, which he has become more and

more interested in, not for any ego gratification purposes (''well,

maybe just a little bit''), but to see how far the instrument can go.

The idea of solo bass concerts, he readily acknowledges, can frighten

people off. ''Because it's not a recognised solo instrument you're seen

as some sort of weirdo. People think it's going to be all

art-for-art's-sake, after which everyone says 'so what'. But I try to

give them something that they will remember hours, maybe even days after

the concert. It's important that we all get pleasure from the music.''

Weber's ''the bass as orchestra'' approach is aided by technology such

as digital delay which enables him to build a composition from a simple

bassline, adding melodies, chords, rhythm patterns, whatever, as he

goes. Although there is an element of improvisation, he works to a

programme which he has evolved over 10 years and two albums, the more

recent of which, Pendulum, ranges in tone between the hauntingly

evocative and the frankly mischievous.

''I'm a little more confident about these concerts now,'' he says.

''It's a struggle to begin with because you worry if you might run out

of ideas. But through time, as the programme builds up, you get more

relaxed and the only thing I might worry about now is if something

breaks down, which is out of my control.

''I can change the programme here and there but whereas I used to

think that people wanted to hear something different every time, now I'm

not so sure. I think they mostly want to hear what they know. They want

to be surprised, also, but not too much.''

The last time Weber played solo in Scotland the surprise was how one

man and his bass, albeit technologically assisted, could hold the

attention for ninety minutes. Give them something they'll remember hours

afterwards? That last concert was five years ago and some people I know

are talking about it still.

Eberhard Weber plays City Hall, Glasgow, tonight; Queen's Hall,

Edinburgh, Friday; Music Hall, Aberdeen, Saturday.