Remembering Chris Kent
Posted on by Gawain Reifsnyder
Photo credit: Galilea Ministry Indonesia
Originally from Portland Oregon, bassist Chris Kent was one of the most sought-after and most loved musicians in the Nashville music scene. (Here’s a few videos of Chris in action) I’ve had the great pleasure of being friends with Chris and his family since 1994. Chris and I toured together with Take 6 in the early 1990s. Here’s one story of how this humble guy with a huge heart and amazing musical talent changed somebody’s life.
It was 1994 and my wife and I had just moved from Los Angeles to Nashville. I had left a busy guitar teaching and gigging scene back in L.A. and now here we were in an unfamiliar place.
When we got to town I really only knew three people in the local scene. Tracy Ferrie (bassist), Producer/guitarist Troy Nilson, and a bassist named Chris Kent, whom I had met when I was briefly in Nashville six months earlier for an audition.
One day Chris told me that his friend, drummer Chester Thompson (Genesis, Weather Report) was putting together a touring band for the vocal group Take 6 and they might be looking for a guitar player. I’m not sure what came out of my mouth at that time, but it probably sounded a lot like begging. After I finished groveling I thanked Chris profusely for being willing to put in a word in for me.
A few days later I got a phone call around dinner time. It was Chris. He says, “Hey man… I’ve got you an audition for Take 6.” “That’s great!” I said. Then he said, “Well, the only bad thing is it’s tomorrow morning. Can you make it?” Of course I immediately said yes, and only then beginning to think about the ramifications of what I’d just set in motion. At that point I didn’t know any of Take 6′s tunes. I had heard enough of their music to realize that the tunes were harmonically quite complex. I’d be hard-pressed to even have a basic idea of what was going on in the 16 hours or so I had left before my slot. Scramble time!
I jumped in my car and headed up from Franklin to Chris’s apartment in Nashville. I sat in his living room while he made me a copy of a cassette with a few of the new tunes on it. Then I rushed back home to start learning and charting them out.
I stayed up very late trying my best to get a handle on the material. In the morning I borrowed a pickup truck to haul my 300lb. Rack of Doom™ into the rehearsal studio. When I arrived I realized that the audition was just going to be me, Chris and Chester Thompson. If you’re not familiar with the music of Take 6, it’s a blend of jazz, R&B and gospel. It can be quite keyboard heavy, next to the massive vocals of course. And now here I was, barely knowing the songs, about to play with Chris and THE Chester Thompson. On top of that, instead of the ensemble setting I was expecting, the audition was going to be in a guitar/bass/drums trio format. I thought to myself “Gawain, what have you just gotten yourself into?” I was desperate to make a good impression, and I really didn’t want to let my friend Chris down. Since we couldn’t actually play the group’s tunes without any vocals or keys, it looked like we were just going to jam. So that’s what we did. Having Chris there made the whole process so much more comfortable and fun. Chris always had this amazingly easy-going way about him. In his soft voice he’d say stuff like “Aww, man… It’s cool. It’ll be fun.” And I instantly knew it was going to turn out OK. I figured if I was going to “auger in” (as pilots say when they’re about to crash) I’d at least do it while playing my heart out and giving it the best I had.
Truthfully, I don’t really remember what we played. Chester started playing a groove and me and Chris jumped in. Chester threw in some rhythmic twists and turns to see how I followed. We probably played for 20 minutes. And then we were done. Handshakes and thank-yous… Out to the car with my 300lbs of gear and then back home to fidget by the phone.
About 10pm the phone finally rings. It’s Chris… “Hi Gawain.” “Umm… Hi Chris.” “How’s it going tonight?” he says. (Pregnant pause) “Fine, Chris… How are you?” (Another pregnant pause.. AAACK! PLEEEASE! JUST GET TO THE POINT ALREADY!! I’m thinking) I couldn’t stand the suspense. “Don’t mess with me dude!” I finally blurted out. (laughter from the other end of the line) “Yeah, man. What are you doing for the next couple months.” “I don’t know Chris. What AM I doing?” “Well you got the gig!” He finally says with a chuckle.
At this point the earth briefly ceased rotating. Everything went into slow motion. A marching band made up of small, uniformed elfin creatures began to traverse the living room floor playing the theme to “Gilligan’s Island” in Hungarian.
Another of those moments where I don’t actually remember what I said. One thing I do remember is Chris telling me to report to rehearsal the next morning at 11:00.
And thus began one of the most rewarding and memorable adventures of my life. Getting to tour the U.S. and Japan with Take 6 was a comprehensively amazing experience. Chris and his band Versus had a release out on Starsong Records, but this was the first “TV appearances and swanky hotels” gig for both of us, and it was an eye-opener indeed. Getting to share the adventure together made it all that much sweeter. Our stage layout had Chris stage left and me about 40 feet away on stage right. Every night at some point during the show we’d exchange little knowing glances as if to say to each other, “Dude, we’re actually DOING THIS! Can you believe it?”
After Take 6, Chris went on to perform and record with some of the best in the business. Larry Carlton, Steve Lukather, Lorrie Morgan and many others made Chris their “first call” guy for sessions and tours. The attention was well deserved. He used to say that “The money is between the first and the fifth fret.” Chris never played like he wanted the spotlight because he never did. If a leader pointed to him to take a solo he would joyfully tear it up with the best of them, but that wasn’t the point. To Chris, great bass playing was about holding everything together and making everybody sound great, and at that he was nothing short of spectacular.
Chris always seemed to have a smile on his face. It wasn’t a condescending smile like some with his kind of talent tend to flash. It wasn’t a nervous, forced smile. It wasn’t the smile that some use as a mask to hide behind. It was a smile that clearly came from his strong faith in God and the hope and promises that trusting Jesus brings. It came from an unshakeable joy that cuts through circumstances like a Marshall stack through Muzak. It communicated true kindness toward others. Friends and strangers alike. It came straight from the heart. Being around Chris made you want to be better. Not merely to be better at your craft, (although it certainly did that!) but to be a better human being. I know a lot of Christians, and a lot of people who say they’re Christians. I don’t know anybody who was a better example of just being a Christian than Chris. No nonsense. No fake religious crap. Just a guy who walked and lived out his faith honestly every day.
Chris had the ability to capture the bigger picture and look past circumstances. Like when he was jammed into the tiny seats of a Japanese 747 that was clearly not designed for someone of his size he took it in stride. Years later when he was ill and getting jabbed with various needles while we visited in the hospital’s chemotherapy wing, he flashed that trademark smile the whole time we talked. During the last visit I had with him in the hospital shortly before he and his family left to return home to Oregon, his wife Lisa was interrupted by a phone call from one of his doctors informing her that the reason for his neck pain (for which he was wearing a brace at the time) was indeed a broken vertebra due to the myeloma that was slowly dismantling his body. Still, he kept right on smiling and laughing as we shared memories and the trivia of our lives.
I’m grateful to Chris for helping me get that audition all those years ago. Most of all, I’m grateful to be counted among his friends. I know that there are many, many others who feel the same way. If Chris was merely in the same room with you, he acknowleged you and made you feel valued. If Chris knew you for five minutes, he had the ability to put you at ease and made you feel as if he had known you forever.
On October 19th, 2011 Nashville lost one of its best bass players. All who knew Chris personally will dearly miss his friendship, his soft voice, laughter and wry sense of humor. Lisa, his wife of 23 years and their kids Kamarie and Jensen will now have to face life’s challenges without their husband and dad by their side.
Chris believed that this life on earth isn’t the end but just the beginning. He may not be here anymore, but he isn’t “gone.” And I know that Lisa and the kids believe that too. The Bible says he’s as alive as we are. Indeed, he’s even more alive than we are. (1 Cor. 15:54) Through all of the great times he had in his musical career, and then through the trials he faced in his battle with cancer, Chris leaned on that hope and touched so many others along the way.
I look forward to the day when I see my friend again and get one of those patented Chris Kent bear hugs. In the meantime, I’m spurred on to follow his examples of taking joy in life, spreading joy through music and remembering what the important things in life really are.
Thank you, dear friend.
—Gawain Reifsnyder, October 2011
More to Explore
Check out our selection of videos featuring Chris Kent
Friends of Chris Kent Facebook Group
Chris’s Bio from smooth-jazz.de