Blast from the Past: Carl Thompson
This is the original post from 10/12/2005 about a phone call I made to famed bass luthier Carl Thompson. I've edited it a bit (i.e., I've excised a few parts) but for the most part it is as I originally posted it on LiveJournal nearly five years ago.
I talked to Carl today and we agreed on a round scroll, rather than the original hook or the new 3D scrolls (though I did say, "If you get in there and the wood says to you, 'Make me a Hook!' then go ahead and listen to the wood,") and he told me it be finished in three weeks... or at the outset a month. (Between you and me, I'm thinking two or three more months at least, but just the idea that the instrument will be finished so soon has set me alight.)
Looking back at this blog I'm struck by a couple of things: my writing style has changed, and rather than not having played for three years I've been in a band that very nearly could have, ahem, "made it". Also, I own three CT Basses, one made in 1978. Carl doesn't carve the bodies anymore, hasn't for years, so this '78 is really special.
So, without any further ado...
---
No Day But... Last Month (and Carl Thompson)
A lot has happened since I started writing this entry, and I've been putting off making any updates until I finished this one. Soinstead of finishing it to a shiny polish, I'll just cut it free and make adjustments as time allows.
Ive been working on a "No Day But Today" entry for this series, but something happened on Friday (9/23/05) that I find rather remarkable. Friday marked the second baby alpaca born in as many days (making our daytime and evening plans impossible). We found little Naageenya Gremina (named, phonetically, after a character in {my ex-wife's} opera Eugene Onegin a little after two in the afternoon. We got her cleaned up and got her to nurse from her mother Apache before retiring to the house to shower and nap. While {my ex-wife} was showering, I decided to call Carl Thompson. For those of you who don't know, Carl Thompson is a luthier of some renown. He makes electric basses (and the occasional guitar) that, if the stories are to be believed, elevate their players beyond previously believed limits. He made the first electric six-string bass, and the first piccolo bass (where each string is tuned an octave above that of a regular bass). Carl makes basses for Stanley Clarke, Anthony Jackson, and Les Claypool of Primus. Actually, that's not entirely true: Carl makes basses for himself. He just sells them to people like Stanley Clarke, Anthony Jackson, and Les Claypool of Primus.
If all this seems a little random, let me put it into the Illuminating Machine which will allow me to shed a little light (and pad a little text) on the subject. Years ago (about ten, actually), I read an interview with Colonel Claypool himself in which he extolled the virtues of his bass, the ol' Carl Thompson. I loved what it looked like: all curves, curls, and points, mixing the elegance of hand crafted elegance with some unnamable down-home quality. I wax poetic, but it really looked like something the guy next door would make... if the guy next door was a master craftsman with a major artistic flair and no real respect for the beaten path (i.e., the Fender Jazz and P basses... but more on that later). The author of the interview took for granted that his readers knew who Carl Thompson was and didn't do more than mention the cost of Les's instruments. I was enchanted and dreamed of one day owning one of these mythical instruments myself. Yes. I really did just type that last sentence. So I started doing research and learned more about Mr. Thompson and his work, and I filed the information away for some later date when I could actually afford one of his made-to-order custom creations.
Years pass. I finally found myself with the means to afford a Carl Thompson bass. Never mind that it had been a couple of years since I'd actually picked up a bass, I could, at long last, place the order. So I started doing research again, and discovered, again via another Les Claypool interview, that Carl was no longer taking orders. I had waited too long! Indeed, an internet search returned numerous statements of, "Now that Carl has stopped taking orders," "no longer taking new orders, Carl Thompson," "If you waited, you blew it," etc. etc. My only hope, it seemed, was on eBay, a place where many musical instruments (not Carl's) were being sold for far less than they were actually worth, and where a few instruments (Carl's) were being sold for a fair bit more than Mr. Thompson himself would charge. And in each of the eBay listings it was mentioned that, "Carl is no longer taking orders." Imagine my surprise when I went back to the Carl Thompson website and finally read the FAQ: Carl is still taking orders. He talks about retiring on a semi-regular basis, but he is still taking orders. But he could actually retire at any moment. But he's still taking orders. Even if he stopped taking orders right this moment, he would still have to work for about two years to catch up with the orders he has already taken.
But he is still taking orders.
The website explains in less-than-warm-and-fuzzy terms how to go about ordering a bass: "If you are 100 percent serious about ordering a bass, and have the money to do it, email Aaron and he will provide you with Carl's number." In the body of the FAQ are snippets of attitude that declare if you want a bass just like Les Claypool's, "don't ask... he won't make you one," "I want a bass just like Les, will Carl make me one? No. Each instrument is an original and as such Carl does not make replicas of his own designs," and (my favorite), "I'm only 14, but I really REALLY want a CT, but I've only got $1,000... Don't even try it. Carl makes basses for a living and therefore cannot offer special deals to anyone under any circumstance." The last Question of a Frequently Asked nature was, at least to me, the most illuminating and intimidating:
"I called Carl and left a message but have not heard back. What gives? -or- I placed an order a few months ago and sent in the money. I have not heard anything from Carl. Is he sitting on some beach in the Bahamas, sipping a martini at my expense? Carl is extremely busy, so be advised that you may have to call a few times and leave several messages before reaching him. He can't return every call he receives, but be patient and try again if you don't get him the first time. Carl works every day of the week from sunrise till late evening and a lot of the time he just cannot make it to the phone."
I would have to call this man (assuming I passed the guardian named Aaron), a man who gives remarkably blunt interviews ("Somebody wants a bright sound. What's a bright sound? Explain to me exactly so I understand what you mean by a bright sound. Explain that to me. I'll make you a free bass if you can do it," and "Stradivari used {flatsawn wood on instrument necks}. Of course he didn't make necks he made little sticks. I mean, nothing against him but-Antonio Stradivari, he's a supreme master-but when you're talking about those things you're talking about a neck that's about this long, you know, as opposed to 38 inches. That's a whole different game," to which {my ex-wife} replied, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe Stradivari just got served"). I would have to call this man, and I would have to call him again and again if I were to have any hope of ever commissioning a bass. In case you're just joining us, I have social anxiety punctuated by acute agoraphobia! I hate the telephone! I'll do nearly anything to avoid having to talk on it, let alone to someone so salty! And I would have to call him! More than once! But, back to our tale. Friday, September 23, 2005. Naageenya Gremina ("Grimmy" for short) has just been born and is nursing successfully for the very first time. My ex is showering, and I... I am calling Carl Thompson. It's really not that scary at all. I mean, he's not going to be there. I'm going to have to do this several times, at the very least, and I might as well get the first one out of the way.
Of course he answers the phone. *{Note: Every single time I've called him I've gotten him on the phone. Every time.}
"Hello?"
"...Hello! Is this Carl Thompson?"
"Yes..."
"Well hi! My name is Benjamin and I'm calling to order a bass from you!"
"Oh, you can't do that."
"I can't."
"No, you can't."
"Oh. Um." I laugh, nervous and very disappointed. "You've just blown my mind."
He chuckles. "Hold on a second," he says. He holds the phone away from his mouth and says to the guys in the room with him, "Hey, I've got this guy on the phone, says he wants to order a bass. What should I tell'im?"
There is some amused muttering in the background.
"Ok. Do you know any theory? Music theory?"
"...Yes, I do."
"What's a third above A#?"
And my mind is confetti floating around in my office. "Uh... well... is that major or, uh... minor?" I say stalling for the time I know will be of no help whatsoever.
Carl tells the guys in his shop to be quiet, and says something to me before telling the room in general, "No, you go on. No, no, I can handle this.
"So, Benjamin. Where ya calling from?"
"Mt. Washington, Kentucky, sir, a bit of a distance from where you are."
"Oh, that's not too far. I've got orders from-I have a bass I'm making for a guy in Iceland, and I get calls from Australia all the time, I'm working on something for a guy in Australia, so Kentucky isn't that far away."
"And with gas prices the way they are, Kentucky's pretty much walking distance from New York," I say, aiming for a chuckle. What I get is a guffaw and a dive into politics, the nightmare of Hurricane Katrina, the government's complete and utter failure to help the people of New Orleans, the disappointment of the finger-pointing that followed, and how no one needs to give Sean Penn any shit whatsoever for going in and doing everything he could to help. Carl also mentions that he and his band are going to be playing a Katrina benefit concert in his neighborhood.
The problem with the written word is that it conveys none of the vocal inflection in a conversation. Everything I'd read about Carl Thompson painted a picture of a crusty old guy who wasn't particularly friendly and wasn't interested in stupid questions and why are you wasting his time, anyway? In real life (i.e., my 45 minute conversation with him), Carl's a wonderful guy, intelligent, funny as hell, and willing to share his opinions on everything from Fender basses to Sharon Stone.
"The reason I started making basses in the first place was the Fender bass." They're too heavy, they put your hands in the wrong positions, they're unbalanced. And did we mention the heavy part? "I was working on a [Fender] Stratocaster [guitar], and I had just the body laying there, no pickups or any of that shit at all, no neck, just the body. Do you know how much that thing weighed? Seven and a half pounds! I play a 38 inch [i.e., bigger than a regular bass guitar, and only 4 inches shy of an upright bass] fretless four string that weighs just over six! And that's the whole bass! Strings and neck and tuners and everything! Seven and a half pounds!
"So what are you wanting me to make for you? How many strings are we talking about? Four, ten, what?"
"I want a five string."
"Oh ho ho! So you're wanting to spend some money! Here's what I tell people: you can either send me a big pile of money, or you can get me a weekend with Sharon Stone." I laugh along with Carl. "Nobody's ever taken me up on the Sharon Stone thing, though." Later on in the conversation I ask if maybe a phone call from Ms. Stone might lower the price a bit, and when he says that it would, I tell him that he would be receiving a call from her sometime next week, and if she just happened to sound a little like some guy from Kentucky, well, that was something he was just going to have to ignore. We laugh like we've been buddies for years.
Here are a few more quotes from Carl (and do remember that these are from my unreliable memory and not intended to be scripture):
"I hate opinions. You know why? Most opinions are based on other people's opinions. You tell me a certain neck on a bass is ok because Fender or some other maker does it, that's your opinion, and it's based on somebody else's opinion. I could give you my opinion on how to adjust the crank shaft or some such thing on your car. . ." "But we wouldn't get very far?" I asked, laughing. "No! We sure wouldn't!"
"I used to practice all the time when I was little. They had to hide my guitar from me!"
"I usually like to use my own quotes in interviews, but Ken Parker {of Parker Guitars} said something I really liked. Somebody asked him in an interview, they asked, 'What kind of wood do you use in your guitars?' and he said, 'I use good wood!' He also told somebody else that when he made his guitars, he got rid of all the bad wood. I always liked that."
"You know how you get a good tone? Good sustain on your instrument? Practice!" And while I agree with him one hundred percent, I also agree with my mother who always said that a bad instrument undermines the work you put into practicing, so by god get a good one.
"You know what I tell people? It's how I make my basses. I don't care if you're a lawyer, a doctor, a nurse...I say, try doing your job like it's the first time. Every bass I make, it's the first time all over again. I learn every time. I think a lot of people could benefit from doing things like that."
"I get all these guys, all these kids, they call me and they just...'Oh wow! You're Carl Thompson!' And, well I am very honored by this. It's very kind of them, but I'm no master. I'm not Stradivari. I just put things where they're supposed to be. There's a reason, a mathematical reason, for everything on {the basses I make}. Even the scroll, there's a reason for it." It's obvious Carl is uncomfortable with his fame, or at least the levels of awe his name inspires in the right circles. He knows his craft, though, and he creates works of art that sound and play as good as they look. I have to admit that before I called him, I was a bit starstruck with the idea of actually talking to the man who makes those incredible basses. I mean, the people he's worked with, the places he's played and the friends he's had... it's a veritable who's who of the avant garde in the jazz and rock fields. And if he hadn't given me shit from the get go... well, it probably would have been a very different conversation.
The short version of this lengthy wandering quote-fest is that Carl Thompson, the guy who makes basses for some really talented people (or rather for himself and then sells them to some really talented people), is a very very nice man. I had a great time talking to him, and would do so again in a heartbeat... not that I would ever be able to get him on the phone again, I'm sure. It was a refreshingly positive and invigorating phone call that started with, "You can't order a bass," continued with, "I shouldn't even be talking to you, I'm so far behind the eight ball as it is," and finished with, "Well, Benjamin, you seem like a nice guy. I'll make a bass for you." After he receives my check he will call me and we will plot and scheme about the bass he will create for me. I won't be able to send my check as soon as I would like to, unfortunately, because I'm waiting for a special gift to arrive in the mail. I don't know Sharon Stone, and she ultimately doesn't matter all that much to Carl Thompson ("It's just a name that works. Melanie Griffith would do just as well, but that doesn't roll off the tongue like Sharon Stone."). But an autographed picture of her...well, I'll let you know how it goes. *{Note: He was a fan.}
Carl Thompson's Website
This is the original post from 10/12/2005 about a phone call I made to famed bass luthier Carl Thompson. I've edited it a bit (i.e., I've excised a few parts) but for the most part it is as I originally posted it on LiveJournal nearly five years ago.
I talked to Carl today and we agreed on a round scroll, rather than the original hook or the new 3D scrolls (though I did say, "If you get in there and the wood says to you, 'Make me a Hook!' then go ahead and listen to the wood,") and he told me it be finished in three weeks... or at the outset a month. (Between you and me, I'm thinking two or three more months at least, but just the idea that the instrument will be finished so soon has set me alight.)
Looking back at this blog I'm struck by a couple of things: my writing style has changed, and rather than not having played for three years I've been in a band that very nearly could have, ahem, "made it". Also, I own three CT Basses, one made in 1978. Carl doesn't carve the bodies anymore, hasn't for years, so this '78 is really special.
So, without any further ado...
---
No Day But... Last Month (and Carl Thompson)
A lot has happened since I started writing this entry, and I've been putting off making any updates until I finished this one. Soinstead of finishing it to a shiny polish, I'll just cut it free and make adjustments as time allows.
Ive been working on a "No Day But Today" entry for this series, but something happened on Friday (9/23/05) that I find rather remarkable. Friday marked the second baby alpaca born in as many days (making our daytime and evening plans impossible). We found little Naageenya Gremina (named, phonetically, after a character in {my ex-wife's} opera Eugene Onegin a little after two in the afternoon. We got her cleaned up and got her to nurse from her mother Apache before retiring to the house to shower and nap. While {my ex-wife} was showering, I decided to call Carl Thompson. For those of you who don't know, Carl Thompson is a luthier of some renown. He makes electric basses (and the occasional guitar) that, if the stories are to be believed, elevate their players beyond previously believed limits. He made the first electric six-string bass, and the first piccolo bass (where each string is tuned an octave above that of a regular bass). Carl makes basses for Stanley Clarke, Anthony Jackson, and Les Claypool of Primus. Actually, that's not entirely true: Carl makes basses for himself. He just sells them to people like Stanley Clarke, Anthony Jackson, and Les Claypool of Primus.
If all this seems a little random, let me put it into the Illuminating Machine which will allow me to shed a little light (and pad a little text) on the subject. Years ago (about ten, actually), I read an interview with Colonel Claypool himself in which he extolled the virtues of his bass, the ol' Carl Thompson. I loved what it looked like: all curves, curls, and points, mixing the elegance of hand crafted elegance with some unnamable down-home quality. I wax poetic, but it really looked like something the guy next door would make... if the guy next door was a master craftsman with a major artistic flair and no real respect for the beaten path (i.e., the Fender Jazz and P basses... but more on that later). The author of the interview took for granted that his readers knew who Carl Thompson was and didn't do more than mention the cost of Les's instruments. I was enchanted and dreamed of one day owning one of these mythical instruments myself. Yes. I really did just type that last sentence. So I started doing research and learned more about Mr. Thompson and his work, and I filed the information away for some later date when I could actually afford one of his made-to-order custom creations.
Years pass. I finally found myself with the means to afford a Carl Thompson bass. Never mind that it had been a couple of years since I'd actually picked up a bass, I could, at long last, place the order. So I started doing research again, and discovered, again via another Les Claypool interview, that Carl was no longer taking orders. I had waited too long! Indeed, an internet search returned numerous statements of, "Now that Carl has stopped taking orders," "no longer taking new orders, Carl Thompson," "If you waited, you blew it," etc. etc. My only hope, it seemed, was on eBay, a place where many musical instruments (not Carl's) were being sold for far less than they were actually worth, and where a few instruments (Carl's) were being sold for a fair bit more than Mr. Thompson himself would charge. And in each of the eBay listings it was mentioned that, "Carl is no longer taking orders." Imagine my surprise when I went back to the Carl Thompson website and finally read the FAQ: Carl is still taking orders. He talks about retiring on a semi-regular basis, but he is still taking orders. But he could actually retire at any moment. But he's still taking orders. Even if he stopped taking orders right this moment, he would still have to work for about two years to catch up with the orders he has already taken.
But he is still taking orders.
The website explains in less-than-warm-and-fuzzy terms how to go about ordering a bass: "If you are 100 percent serious about ordering a bass, and have the money to do it, email Aaron and he will provide you with Carl's number." In the body of the FAQ are snippets of attitude that declare if you want a bass just like Les Claypool's, "don't ask... he won't make you one," "I want a bass just like Les, will Carl make me one? No. Each instrument is an original and as such Carl does not make replicas of his own designs," and (my favorite), "I'm only 14, but I really REALLY want a CT, but I've only got $1,000... Don't even try it. Carl makes basses for a living and therefore cannot offer special deals to anyone under any circumstance." The last Question of a Frequently Asked nature was, at least to me, the most illuminating and intimidating:
"I called Carl and left a message but have not heard back. What gives? -or- I placed an order a few months ago and sent in the money. I have not heard anything from Carl. Is he sitting on some beach in the Bahamas, sipping a martini at my expense? Carl is extremely busy, so be advised that you may have to call a few times and leave several messages before reaching him. He can't return every call he receives, but be patient and try again if you don't get him the first time. Carl works every day of the week from sunrise till late evening and a lot of the time he just cannot make it to the phone."
I would have to call this man (assuming I passed the guardian named Aaron), a man who gives remarkably blunt interviews ("Somebody wants a bright sound. What's a bright sound? Explain to me exactly so I understand what you mean by a bright sound. Explain that to me. I'll make you a free bass if you can do it," and "Stradivari used {flatsawn wood on instrument necks}. Of course he didn't make necks he made little sticks. I mean, nothing against him but-Antonio Stradivari, he's a supreme master-but when you're talking about those things you're talking about a neck that's about this long, you know, as opposed to 38 inches. That's a whole different game," to which {my ex-wife} replied, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe Stradivari just got served"). I would have to call this man, and I would have to call him again and again if I were to have any hope of ever commissioning a bass. In case you're just joining us, I have social anxiety punctuated by acute agoraphobia! I hate the telephone! I'll do nearly anything to avoid having to talk on it, let alone to someone so salty! And I would have to call him! More than once! But, back to our tale. Friday, September 23, 2005. Naageenya Gremina ("Grimmy" for short) has just been born and is nursing successfully for the very first time. My ex is showering, and I... I am calling Carl Thompson. It's really not that scary at all. I mean, he's not going to be there. I'm going to have to do this several times, at the very least, and I might as well get the first one out of the way.
Of course he answers the phone. *{Note: Every single time I've called him I've gotten him on the phone. Every time.}
"Hello?"
"...Hello! Is this Carl Thompson?"
"Yes..."
"Well hi! My name is Benjamin and I'm calling to order a bass from you!"
"Oh, you can't do that."
"I can't."
"No, you can't."
"Oh. Um." I laugh, nervous and very disappointed. "You've just blown my mind."
He chuckles. "Hold on a second," he says. He holds the phone away from his mouth and says to the guys in the room with him, "Hey, I've got this guy on the phone, says he wants to order a bass. What should I tell'im?"
There is some amused muttering in the background.
"Ok. Do you know any theory? Music theory?"
"...Yes, I do."
"What's a third above A#?"
And my mind is confetti floating around in my office. "Uh... well... is that major or, uh... minor?" I say stalling for the time I know will be of no help whatsoever.
Carl tells the guys in his shop to be quiet, and says something to me before telling the room in general, "No, you go on. No, no, I can handle this.
"So, Benjamin. Where ya calling from?"
"Mt. Washington, Kentucky, sir, a bit of a distance from where you are."
"Oh, that's not too far. I've got orders from-I have a bass I'm making for a guy in Iceland, and I get calls from Australia all the time, I'm working on something for a guy in Australia, so Kentucky isn't that far away."
"And with gas prices the way they are, Kentucky's pretty much walking distance from New York," I say, aiming for a chuckle. What I get is a guffaw and a dive into politics, the nightmare of Hurricane Katrina, the government's complete and utter failure to help the people of New Orleans, the disappointment of the finger-pointing that followed, and how no one needs to give Sean Penn any shit whatsoever for going in and doing everything he could to help. Carl also mentions that he and his band are going to be playing a Katrina benefit concert in his neighborhood.
The problem with the written word is that it conveys none of the vocal inflection in a conversation. Everything I'd read about Carl Thompson painted a picture of a crusty old guy who wasn't particularly friendly and wasn't interested in stupid questions and why are you wasting his time, anyway? In real life (i.e., my 45 minute conversation with him), Carl's a wonderful guy, intelligent, funny as hell, and willing to share his opinions on everything from Fender basses to Sharon Stone.
"The reason I started making basses in the first place was the Fender bass." They're too heavy, they put your hands in the wrong positions, they're unbalanced. And did we mention the heavy part? "I was working on a [Fender] Stratocaster [guitar], and I had just the body laying there, no pickups or any of that shit at all, no neck, just the body. Do you know how much that thing weighed? Seven and a half pounds! I play a 38 inch [i.e., bigger than a regular bass guitar, and only 4 inches shy of an upright bass] fretless four string that weighs just over six! And that's the whole bass! Strings and neck and tuners and everything! Seven and a half pounds!
"So what are you wanting me to make for you? How many strings are we talking about? Four, ten, what?"
"I want a five string."
"Oh ho ho! So you're wanting to spend some money! Here's what I tell people: you can either send me a big pile of money, or you can get me a weekend with Sharon Stone." I laugh along with Carl. "Nobody's ever taken me up on the Sharon Stone thing, though." Later on in the conversation I ask if maybe a phone call from Ms. Stone might lower the price a bit, and when he says that it would, I tell him that he would be receiving a call from her sometime next week, and if she just happened to sound a little like some guy from Kentucky, well, that was something he was just going to have to ignore. We laugh like we've been buddies for years.
Here are a few more quotes from Carl (and do remember that these are from my unreliable memory and not intended to be scripture):
"I hate opinions. You know why? Most opinions are based on other people's opinions. You tell me a certain neck on a bass is ok because Fender or some other maker does it, that's your opinion, and it's based on somebody else's opinion. I could give you my opinion on how to adjust the crank shaft or some such thing on your car. . ." "But we wouldn't get very far?" I asked, laughing. "No! We sure wouldn't!"
"I used to practice all the time when I was little. They had to hide my guitar from me!"
"I usually like to use my own quotes in interviews, but Ken Parker {of Parker Guitars} said something I really liked. Somebody asked him in an interview, they asked, 'What kind of wood do you use in your guitars?' and he said, 'I use good wood!' He also told somebody else that when he made his guitars, he got rid of all the bad wood. I always liked that."
"You know how you get a good tone? Good sustain on your instrument? Practice!" And while I agree with him one hundred percent, I also agree with my mother who always said that a bad instrument undermines the work you put into practicing, so by god get a good one.
"You know what I tell people? It's how I make my basses. I don't care if you're a lawyer, a doctor, a nurse...I say, try doing your job like it's the first time. Every bass I make, it's the first time all over again. I learn every time. I think a lot of people could benefit from doing things like that."
"I get all these guys, all these kids, they call me and they just...'Oh wow! You're Carl Thompson!' And, well I am very honored by this. It's very kind of them, but I'm no master. I'm not Stradivari. I just put things where they're supposed to be. There's a reason, a mathematical reason, for everything on {the basses I make}. Even the scroll, there's a reason for it." It's obvious Carl is uncomfortable with his fame, or at least the levels of awe his name inspires in the right circles. He knows his craft, though, and he creates works of art that sound and play as good as they look. I have to admit that before I called him, I was a bit starstruck with the idea of actually talking to the man who makes those incredible basses. I mean, the people he's worked with, the places he's played and the friends he's had... it's a veritable who's who of the avant garde in the jazz and rock fields. And if he hadn't given me shit from the get go... well, it probably would have been a very different conversation.
The short version of this lengthy wandering quote-fest is that Carl Thompson, the guy who makes basses for some really talented people (or rather for himself and then sells them to some really talented people), is a very very nice man. I had a great time talking to him, and would do so again in a heartbeat... not that I would ever be able to get him on the phone again, I'm sure. It was a refreshingly positive and invigorating phone call that started with, "You can't order a bass," continued with, "I shouldn't even be talking to you, I'm so far behind the eight ball as it is," and finished with, "Well, Benjamin, you seem like a nice guy. I'll make a bass for you." After he receives my check he will call me and we will plot and scheme about the bass he will create for me. I won't be able to send my check as soon as I would like to, unfortunately, because I'm waiting for a special gift to arrive in the mail. I don't know Sharon Stone, and she ultimately doesn't matter all that much to Carl Thompson ("It's just a name that works. Melanie Griffith would do just as well, but that doesn't roll off the tongue like Sharon Stone."). But an autographed picture of her...well, I'll let you know how it goes. *{Note: He was a fan.}
Carl Thompson's Website