Note that I have begun folding hyperlinks into titles, so many of the bolded words are now hyperlinks.
Pat 'Brown' Schmaljohn at Julia Davis Park band shell, Boise, Idaho 1989(?) - Photo by Brian Bothwell
Pat Schmaljohn the musician
I realized in looking at the recent entries I have written on the the formation of the Treepeople, they have been missing one aspect of a crucial ingredient in this story. It may surprise you, this ingredient, because it is one I have mentioned over and over, and have identified as a key ingredient, and that is Pat Schmaljohn. The ignored aspect of this ingredient being; Pat Schmaljohn the musician.
That I never fully acknowledged this part of Pat for some years is no surprise to me, looking back. During these many years since Pat left us, I have gone over and over our relationship in my head and as this story will eventually tell, to say that he and I had a complicated relationship is an understatement. We butted heads in ways most humans never get around to. It's hard to explain, and we will get there, but suffice it to say here that, as a result of this tumultuous brotherhood we had as bandmates, he and I pretty much were like countries that are influenced to be allies through historical events, and work in tandum in a careful way, so as not to disrupt the peace. As a result, for years whenever I would listen to the music we did, I didn't focus on the bass much. Some fans of the band may think that ridiculous, but I tell you, again, it's complicated.
As I have made clear, Pat was the engine behind all that we did. He was the one who always had the guts to approach people about whatever it was we needed as a band, who took out loans and bought the other things we needed, and who used a writer's and an editor's mind (not to mention a sharp political mind) in conjunction with technology to move the bands forward. None of this can be overstated. But then there was Pat the bassist...
And now I hear him and I realize part of why I missed him in the fray of our brand of rock; he is more than 'doing his job', he is laying down solid walls of bass that give the songs a backbone, a careful rhythm that we all fit into. So apt it is almost indistinguishable from the whole, like a good film score. My style of drumming tends to follow the guitars a lot, not very traditional, but somehow, I made it work. Pat is also following the guitars, but in a complimentary way. What I would fail to realize until after his death was that I was resting in those bass lines, pulling off some spastic, inter-laying beats in between more solid grooves, and the solid electrical current to many of those grooves was Pat's bass playing. I ashamedly admit that a combination of fear of conflict, insecurity and vanity, all of which characterized me as a young man, were also responsible for this blindness.
Pat had never played a musical instrument in a serious capacity in his life when we started Treepeople. He picked up the bass and never looked back, and later in life fronted a band playing guitar, writing the songs and singing them, in the Boise band Hive.
Like all musicians, Pat grew the more he played, his sound went down different roads, but he was always solid, always that backbone. It fit with how he was important to the bands in other ways too, as mentioned above.
Pat had his personal flaws and demons, like any of us, but he kept them in a cage of solid bass lines and words as long as he could. I salute your excellent musicianship.
Hopefully it isn't too little, too late, Brother, though it probably is.
Pat 'Brown' Schmaljohn at Julia Davis Park band shell, Boise, Idaho 1989(?) - Photo by Brian Bothwell
One of the songs that illustrates what I mean about Pat's bass playing, 'Radioman' - Song written by Scott Schmaljohn and Treepeople, 1990 (click link below):
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