Name a song.
Gordon Ranney knew it.
On the off chance he didn’t, you would start playing, and an instant later, he was all over that bass line — folding in the sweetest, most delicate, slappiest, hardest and most percussive bass lines. Whatever the song needed, he could provide it. He appeared to have no ego; he just served the music. And served it well.
The bass player for the legendary Gomers, who died from cancer over the weekend, was a musical savant. And one of the most generous players I’ve had the privilege to know.
The Gomers have been playing regularly in Madison for more than 30 years, and Gordon was an original Gomer. They got their start as the house band for the ComedySportz improv group, where they developed their collective ability to adapt to any musical situation. Gomeroke, if you haven’t experienced it, is where you pick a song from a list of more than 2,000 and sing with the backing of a live rock band. No matter your talent level, you become a rock star. It’s one of the most beautiful experiences available to a singer, to have a rock-solid band at your back. And for the audience, it’s a profound experience, too, watching musicians bring out the best in someone. They even do it for kids (Kiddyoke), and I marvel to imagine the patience it takes to bring alive another version of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”
Gordon also played with Steely Dane and Prog, and was a regular sub for my band, VO5. The countless times he played with VO5, Gordon integrated so seamlessly it was as if he had been there all along.
And now he isn’t here, which feels profoundly unfair to his wife, Jeanette, his family, his bandmates and the entire community of musicians in Madison.
Gordon’s first experience playing with VO5 was a trial by fire: We had booked our highest-profile gig, at the Memorial Union Terrace, in 2008. Our bass player’s wife went into labor that afternoon, and we needed somebody to step in and learn bass lines for at least 30 classic ’70s disco and funk tunes. We called Gordon, and he said yes. No problem. He nailed it. All he asked was we provide him with a wig and something shiny to match the band’s outrageous costumes. He looked great in a feather boa.
Dozens of times after that, Gordon stepped in, sometimes on short notice, hanging out between sets in hotel conference rooms, locker rooms and green rooms of clubs. He was quiet, a good listener, and had an amazing wry sense of humor.
When he was diagnosed with cancer almost two years ago, he vowed to play as long as he could. I know he was holding down bass lines at Gomeroke just a few weeks ago. Physically, he had shrunk, and his voice was reduced — which was sad, because he also was an amazing singer who could always pick up a missing harmony.
But there he was, where I will always picture him, stage right at the High Noon Saloon. Nodding to say: “I’ve got this.”
Note: On March 8, fellow musicians began a crowdfunding campaign to support Jeanette Ranney after the loss of Gordon. After just two days, the fund was halfway to its goal.
