The Strange Case Of Patrick Xavier, Stuart Hamm, And Me

I’d say it was spring of 1990. I was a full-fledged guitar dork by then – practicing in my basement space dad built for me – in lieu of underage drinking, toking, dating, athletics, or any of the other malarky teens in R-Rated comedies were doing in the 80s. It wasn’t that I was a lonely and friendless kid and felt like I was missing out on all that, I actually wanted to play the guitar. It was for lack of a better word, my passion. Music had been my passion since I was in short pants thanks to parents that valued a good hi-fi stereo, a stack of vinyl, and an ice cold Strohs. Us Hubners loved our music, and from an early age classic rock was echoing in my head.

So back to 1990. I was a die hard fan of Joe Satriani. He was my Jeff Beck, Blackmore, Page, and Hendrix all rolled into one small Italian guy from Long Island. He opened my head to new sounds, new techniques, and all new levels of “WOW!” when it came to guitar. And unlike the majority of instrumental guitar albums that were being pumped out thanks to Shrapnel Records in the mid-to-late 80s, Satriani made records that were both technically astounding AND melodically pleasing. He started out in pop rock with the band Squares, so he appreciated a pop hook.

In the spring of 1990 Joe was touring Flying In A Blue Dream and was coming to the Embassy Theater in Fort Wayne. My parents bought myself and my brother tickets, and one of my good friends got a ticket as well. The older brother drove us on a school night an hour east so we could see the man known as Joe Satriani live. His live bassist was Stu Hamm, and I may not have taken note of his playing on the record, but live he blew my 16-year old mind. Just an absolute force of nature on the bass guitar, he dominated those songs that night, and took a solo which was playing the Peanuts theme on his bass guitar. All the parts simultaneously. It was phenomenal.

I’ve seen a lot of concerts in my time. More than I could ever attempt to remember after 35 years, but Joe Satriani at the Embassy is in my top five. Easily.

So Stuart Hamm was officially on my radar. The friend that went to the Satriani show with me quickly bought Stu’s debut album Radio Free Albemuth(named after a Philip K Dick novel, natch). Much like Joe, Stu can and does blow minds with his prodigious playing, yet he also wants to write songs with melody, scope, and a kind of intellectual lean where you feel like you’re getting more than just fast notes.

Radio Free Albemuth delivered all of that and more.

I can remember spending spring break 1990 staying up till 2am nearly every night reading Kurt Vonnegut’s The Sirens Of Titan and quietly listening to my buddy’s borrowed copy of Radio Free Albemuth on the family stereo. Songs like “Simple Dreams”, “Flow My Tears” and Hamm’s take on Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” were instantly embedded in my mind. These were somehow the perfect pairing of literature and music. “Dr Gradus Ad Parnasum” locked in to Vonnegut’s tale involving Tralfamadore. Radio Free Albemuth became a go-to album for me. The kind of album that I could get lost in, and as a lovelorn 16-year old getting lost in albums was therapy.

A few years ago I started buying up old album from my youth on vinyl. At the time they were relatively cheap, compared to nowadays. But back then I bought up Radio Free Albemuth and Kings of Sleep. I wasn’t as familar with Kings of Sleep but found myself having all those feelings I’d had as a 16-year old discovering some incredible piece of music for the first time. And Hamm had released Kings of Sleep just one year after Radio Free Albemuth. The guy was not only this wizard on the bass, but he was a student of great science fiction, having named his debut after a Philip K Dick novel, and his sophomore record after the literary world of William Gibson.

I recently went to Stu’s website and bought a copy of his 2018 album The Diary of Patrick Xavier on CD. It looks like it was self-released by Stu Hamm, and for an extra $15 I could get an autographed copy from the man himself. Of course I’d pay the extra $15. What I found in The Diary Of Patrick Xavier is a very personal and intimate release, as it’s a solo bass album, no drums or guitars or keys accompanying him. It shows Hamm’ playing ability(which is wizard-level), but his exquisite compostional skill as well. It also shows the imagination Stuart Hamm possesses, as the album is sort of a journal of sorts for Patrick Xavier.

Stuart Hamm writes in the liner notes that back in 2015 he hit the road as a sort of journey for not only playing shows but dealing with some things in his life. On this journey he read books, like lots of books. And when he was finished he would leave them in hotel rooms or in the pocket on the back of airplane seats hoping some other traveler would happen upon it. “Pay it forward”, as they say. A book that he came across on this vision quest of sorts was “The Diary Of Patrick Xavier”, which according to Hamm was an actual diary. The songs on this album are inspired by different diary entries, as Hamm interprets these scenes through music.

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“Goodbye” opens this set with a tranquil, almost bluesy bass piece. Hamm can amaze and astound with his bass tapping and bionic slap bass technique, but when he wants to emote on his instrument he’s one of the best in the business. This song sounds like crying, but the good cry not the bad cry. Quiet, reflective tears of joy.

“My Boss Drives A Mercedes” starts on a contemplative note, with a descending bass line that lingers between melancholy and menacing. As Hamm says in the liner notes, “Capitalism is better when you are the ‘CAP’ and not one of the ‘ISMs’“. This song is about how the artist isn’t as appreciated nearly as much as the marketing put into promoting said art. A sad state of affairs, especially for the truly working class musicians such as Mr. Hamm. The song’s point is put across beautifully in an almost flamenco-style melody.

“Smoke Break” is a fun little number showing both Mr. Hamm’s flawless musicality and his ever present sense of humor(think Radio Free Albemuth’s “Country Music(A Night In Hell)”. Just a fantastic display of his bass supremacy here.

“Buona Notte Amore Mia, Ovunque Tu Sia” sounds like a sunrise over blue waters on the first morning of an extra long vacation. Beautifully ornate bass with a nice wavering tremolo effect to give it a dreamy quality. Stuart Hamm’s sound is smooth as silk here, and it’s the kind of song you put on repeat and float away to. Stunning.

“The City” is a bit of an ode to a city. Hamm says “The best years of my life(so far) were spent in San Francisco…from 9th & Irving to 5th & Mission…Strybing to Stinson…Twin Peaks to ForePeak…Kaiser to Clarendon…Art’s to Gordo’s. Even though it is changing so much, no place feels as close to “home” for me as the Outer Inner Sunset.” You can feel the longing in the piece.

“Chopping Wood” in this song, means getting it done. Hamm talks about playing a gig in Wilmington, N.C. with the Stu Hamm Band, then right after packing up their van and driving 11 hour to Asbury Park, NJ, unloaded and rocked the house, then loaded the van and hit the road for the next gig. This song has the feel of movement and getting the work done.

“Co Rd” is inspired by the endless vast of South Texas and how the ghosts of the past linger, speaking through the tall grass and trees as the wind makes nature dance. Amazing soloing and slap bass here. You can almost see the windmills speeding in a circle to nowhere.

“The Weeping Beech” has a power and gravitas to it. It has a baroque quality to the melody, one that feels aged and significant. It has the moodiness of chamber music. You can almost see flickering candles and limbs waving outside the window from quiet winds as Hamm’s beautiful piece plays on.

“The Ballad Of Billy Pilgrim” is the outlier here. Where the rest of this amazing album is seeped in melody and a baroque beauty, “The Ballad Of Billy Pilgrim” feels like being stretched like taffy in a black hole. This is a dissonant and dark drone track Mr. Hamm has created here. There’s a heavy, nearly claustrophobic quality on this track as low and buzzing sound rolls out over you. It encompasses you and overtakes you. I highly recommend this track be played loud and with headphones.

“Home” is such a pretty, delicate track. A beautiful chord progression is played with an equally beautiful solo overdubbed with a fretless bass. I can’t help but think of Jaco Pastorious whenever I hear fretless bass, and on here I can imagine two masters of the 4-string collaborating in some dream-like plane between here and not here.

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So I suppose that this was a long, roundabout way to review a 5 year-old album by one of my favorite musicians and musical composers Mr. Stuart Hamm. The Diary Of Patrick Xavier is an absolutely wonderful instrumental bass album. It showcases Hamm’s ability to turn the bass guitar into something far more magical and majestic than just a four-stringed instrument. And using for inspiration, this diary of a man called Patrick Xavier. His travelogue that served as Hamm’s muse to write these pieces about shared places and experiences with a total stranger. A total stranger that may, or may not be real. At least not real outside the vast imagination and talent of Stu Hamm.

Head over to Stuart Hamm’s website and buy an album direct from the man himself.