The sun was just breaking over the Singapore skyline on my MRT commute. Yerin Baek’s “Big World” filled my ears, her voice a cosmic whisper, demanding space and texture. Later this afternoon, I picked up Enza, my Müb Miezo 18″/5. A quick 15-minute session, playing along to Baek and Prince’s “Cream” through the Phil Jones X4C, became an unexpected revelation.
I’m not a bassist. Never have been, not in the traditional sense. My hands, my ears, my muscle memory are tuned to the guitar. For years, the bass has been a supportive role, a rhythmic anchor, a low-frequency hum in my creative output. And for years, I’ve wrestled with “proper” basses—the 34-inch giants, the 5-kilo behemoths, the instruments designed for touring pros who slap, pop, and dominate the stage.
They were good instruments, often great. But they were never me.
They were always a visit.
The Friction of the Form Factor
A full-scale bass felt like an imposition. It was too long for my desk, too heavy for casual lap playing, and often, too much instrument for the simple, melodic lines I needed. The physicality of it always created friction. My “ear-led” approach thrives on immediate connection, on the absence of barriers between my thought and the sound. The long scale was a constant reminder that I was playing an instrument I hadn’t truly integrated.
I’d spent years searching for the “right” full-scale bass, experimenting with different string types, weights, and preamps, always chasing a phantom comfort that never quite arrived.
Enza: The Solution, Not the Compromise
Then came Enza. My 2023 Müb Miezo 18″/5.
She wasn’t bought as a “compact alternative” or a “travel bass.” She was bought because her sound intrigued me. Her Raintree/Mahogany body, her custom-wound pickups – everything about her promised a different kind of voice.
What I didn’t expect was for her to solve a fundamental problem in my creative process: the problem of form factor friction.
This afternoon, playing “Big World,” I rolled the neck pickup’s tone to zero. Just pure, unadulterated fundamental. That deep, resonant bloom was exactly what Yerin’s cosmic vocals needed. Then, Prince’s “Cream” – the punchy, greasy rhythm felt perfectly at home, sitting deep in the mix. No pedalboard, no complex chain. Just Enza through the X4C.
It wasn’t just satisfying; it was effortless.
The Declaration
My 10-15 minute session confirmed it: I will not be going back to playing a full-scale bass.
This isn’t a rejection of traditional basses; it’s an acceptance of my own truth as a musician. For an ear-player, for a songwriter, for someone who finds profound joy in short, intense bursts of creation, Enza isn’t “small.” She is perfectly sized.
She has the frequencies, the tone, and the playability I need, without any of the physical or mental overhead I don’t. She has allowed me to stop thinking about the instrument and start thinking only about the music.
Enza is not visiting. She’s home. And for me, this is the end of the long scale.