On the Passing of William "Mibbit" Threats

As most of you know by now, my dear friend and mentor William "Mibbit" Threats passed away Wednesday morning from liver cancer.

I was working in the Rhode Island Hospital warehouse one day when my cell phone rang with an unknown number. It was Mibbit, whom I had only known of by reputation for a the relatively short time I had been playing with Paul Williams. The warehouse was loud and there was a lot of static on the call but we talked briefly and I agreed to meet him at his house on Prairie Ave. [just around the corner from where I was working] Toward the end of the call, he remarked that he had heard I was "a badass". It stopped me dead in my tracks and I thought I heard him wrong through the static. 

    "I'm sorry I missed that, who did you say was a badass?" As I strained to hear him.

    "You, man!" said Mibbit rather matter-of-factly.

    "Wow. Ok, thanks". I said " See you tomorrow."

No one had ever called me a badass before.

I went to Mibbit's house as planned. We went downstairs into his recording studio and he asked me to play for him; basic stuff, walking lines, blues, rhythm changes. His purpose was unclear to me at this point. When we got to the minor blues, he kept insisting I play the bVI V7 turnaround as opposed to the II-7b5 V7 turnaround I was used to. I got a little exasperated and said, "Hey, I'm playing it, Man!" Mibbit stopped me immediately. 

"We are all blessed to be able to do this." He said. "We travel the world doing what we love. We eat and drink for free. Wherever we go we are beloved and we get PAID to do this. Music is a blessing and you have to respect it"

I concurred and apologized for my tone. He then began to teach me how to play my major modes in secondary position. Secondary position is when you play 3 notes on each string of the the bass covering an octave and a fifth if you are playing a four string bass as I do. This one lesson totally opened up my playing. To this day, a lot of my most virtuostic moments of improvisation are due to this approach to the instrument.

I started going to the Sunday jam at Snubbs on N. Main St. and the other jams and gigs in East Providence where Mibbit would let myself and others sit in. He was constantly coaching us on ensemble ability, dynamics, harmony and above all "pocket presence"; where and how you sit in the pocket in relation to the other members of the rhythm section. He made sure I learned "Skin Tight", "Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now" and "She's a Bad Mamma Jamma" so that he would be free to act as conductor for extended funk jams with large ensembles made up of both seasoned pros and local people from neighborhood alike. If there was a particularly good female lead singer, he would jump in on vocals towards the end of the song and mix it up with them, vamping with call and response riffs until bringing the tune home. "Midnight Train to Georgia" with Gina Wesley and "Super Duper Love" with Marny Hughes come to mind. 

I continued to visit Mibbit at this place off of Prairie Ave, particularly when I started doing observations as a student teacher at Flynn Elementary School which is also on Prairie Ave and was also Mibbit's childhood elementary school. Mibbit started on violin in either 3rd or 4th grade. He told me back then he had two 1 hour classes of music each day; one early band practice before school and one during school hours. This was significantly more time than I got in the band room throughout secondary school. I am convinced to this day that the foundation for the biggest "ears" I've ever seen on a cat were laid during those years of public school youth orchestra practice. Mibbit could hear everything; harmonies, overtones, intonation problems, EQ problems, signal pollution, the acoustic layout of the room. Everything.

One morning at the school, the teacher asked me If I could play 12 bar walking bass behind the kids while they learned about the blues scale on the xylophone. A bit confused, I told her I didn't have my bass with me. She then said, "Oh we have plenty" and opened the door to what I had assumed was a supply closet but what was actually a massive instrument storage room filled with decaying string instruments. We made our way past the scores of warped, stringless, violins, violas, cellos and dented, rusted brass instruments to the back of the room where there were eight equally distressed double basses. I found the most playable bass, tuned it to the piano and did my part for the lesson. I persuaded her to let me borrow the bass and I took it to Mibbit's the first chance I got. I remarked about what a shame it was that the exact same instruments that served him so well as a kid had been left to rot due to budget cuts. "Its not even the money," He said, "They won't put the time for it into the school schedule. They don't care anymore." We never talked about it again but that experience deepened my understanding of how systemic racism oppresses non-white people. How many other Mibbits (and Lizzos) had we lost due to the damage done by a white power structure that couldn't be bothered to continue to allow back and brown children to learn one of the main skills that enriched their lives and helped them built multi-generational wealth? 

When I needed to record a demo for my working band at the time, I asked Mibbit to record us. I was nervous. I'm not a studio guy and while I had confidence in my band to crush pick-up gigs, we had never done something this technical. Though we only had one afternoon to track everything, Mibbit assured me it was enough time. The session went well. I was impressed at how Mibbit was able to troubleshoot, give technical and musical direction and take feedback seamlessly in real time and not get derailed or distracted. My mother, who I had asked to show up and take pictures of the band, brought Mibbit a pie. They seemed to get along quite well. At the end of the day, Mibbit said 

    "You're coming back tomorrow morning, right?"

    "Sure" I said. "Whatever you need me to do"

Once again, I wasn't exactly sure what he needed me for. The rough mix was pretty good and I just assumed he would mix the rest of it down on his own time and get it to me whenever. After all, it was only a 3 song demo for a press kit. I arrived at Mibbit's the next morning and we went to work mastering the recording. He gave me fairly intensive crash course in audio production; showing me point by point where he was putting each track in the mix, which spots needed to be EQ'd, adding reverb to the guitar solo, dialing in the compression on the vocals, splicing pieces of different takes together to fix errors instead of punching in or using auto-tune. It was important to HIM that I learn this. I walked out with my CD in hand. He refused to take any money even though I had promised to pay him at the outset. 

One of the last times I hung out at Mibbit's place, he told me the corollary to the first thing he ever told me. That sometimes the blessing can also be a burden and that we have to try to carry that burden with grace. It was during this time that I confided in him that while my career had improved (in large part thanks to his mentorship and his referrals) I was concerned that I was reaching the limits of what I could accomplish in Rhode Island and that soon I would begin to backslide. "If that's how you feel, then you need to leave Rhode Island" He said. That was when I started looking into gigging in Asia more seriously. I eventually landed that gig. I also met my wife of 8 years now while I was out there. 

While working the hotel nightclub circuit in Asia, Mibbit's wisdom began to make more sense; Playing to the room, having a good stage presence, sharing in the collective joy of the audience, receiving their praise with grace and humility. If I was in a situation that was musically uncertain or socially tense, I would "channel Mibbit" and try to do as he would.  Eventually, I wouldn't need to channel Mibbit anymore. I knew how to respond as myself. I traveled the world eating and drinking for free; beloved everywhere I went and getting paid for it. I was blessed as he had told me I was.

Mibbit saw things in me that I didn't see in myself. He believed in me. He expected me to carry myself properly. His presence in my life was a touchstone. He grounded me. He opened my eyes to a world of endless beauty and possibility. I wouldn't be the person I am today without him. He was the best friend, colleague and mentor a cat could ask for. I miss him dearly already. I will never forget him or what he taught me. Furthermore, I will resolve to live by his wisdom more fully as I have often strayed from the grace he led me to in subsequent years. 

Mibbit was an old soul; more aligned with his parent's generation than the other boomers in posture and aesthetic. One time at Mibbit's place, he jokingly squared off with me for a second. He had that old-time underhanded boxing stance; like the guy in the manly-man meme. Though initially comical (this was the heyday of UFC), it was also slightly terrifying with someone of his height and reach. For a split-second I could see beneath the jovial exterior to the core of man who was serious, proud, hard-working, and took zero bullshit. When I convinced Jen Freitas to let me host a jam at the Sidebar, I was nervous. Who was going to come out to jam with Me, Nick and Alex on a Tuesday? Mibbit walked in right as we were starting up wearing his trench coat and his beret. He looked like a jazz musician; like he had just got off the road with Dizzy Gillespie. He made it feel like a jazz jam was happening and I knew everything was going to be fine instantly. Also, the vests. Dude always had slick vests; a staple of any musicians wardrobe.

Listening to Mibbit play the bass was a sublime experience. I'm not a huge fan of the 5 string bass in general but Mibbit always made that Campallone bass sound so good. He had that Chuck Rainey thing going on where he could morph in and out of different styles seamlessly. He was a master at pacing and leaving space. He was a master at exploiting and resolving harmonic tension. Everything he played was conscientious; no wanking, no guesswork, no hail marys. I never once heard him pop a string, fret out or bust a low interval limit. I don't think I've ever heard another bassist do as much extended improvisation as he did. I'm pretty sure he heard/sang everything he played in his head and often did sing his riffs as he played them. He always played his ass off and left it all on the stage regardless of the playing situation.