Bill Frisell Album Reviews

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Before We Were Born (1989)
Where in the World? (1991) by The Bill Frisell Band

Before We Were Born (1989)

7.5

Before We Were Born / Some Song and Dance: Freddy's Stop - Love Motel - Pip, Squeak - Goodbye / Hard Plains Drifter / The Lone Ranger / Steady Girl

Trying to pigeonhole Bill Frisell is a bit similar to abstract algebra or dwarf-tossing: it's not quite as easy as you might think. Even though the guy is obviously rooted in jazz, there's so much more his music encompasses, even on earlier avant-garde releases like Before We Were Born. Throughout more than two decades and nearly albums, Frisell has created his share of idiosyncratic and even cerebral music, but his work is rarely inaccessible or alienating, despite his expired Naked City membership card. On this album - his first one for Nonesuch - he plays with different line-ups, ranging from his regular backing band (of Hank Roberts, Joey Baron and Kermit Driscoll) on the John Zorn-arranged "Hard Plains Drifter" (which bears the under-title "As I Take My Last Breath and the Noose Grows Tight, the Incredible Events of the Past Three Days Flash Before My Eyes"), adding a few guests on the four-parted suite "Some Song and Dance" or picking an even different line-up with Arto Lindsay as most notorious member. Despite its sonic cohesiveness (the entire album is wrapped up in a plastic sheen that smells of industrial disinfectant and "the year 1985"), these games with different line-ups also give the album a loose feel, which is both an advantage (it doesn't take itself too seriously) as well as a disadvantage (it lacks the comfortable cohesion of Where in the World). The obvious ear-catcher and most demanding track on the album is the nervous "Hard Plains Drifter," which already points forward to the relentless genre-switching of Naked City (albeit in a less extreme way) with hints of thrash, country, easy listening and funk (one part offers a great contrast between Frisell's ethereal style on the one hand and the frantic masturbatory pulse of the rhythm section on the other). Even better, however, is the 17-minute suite "Some Songs and Dance,' on which the band is joined by three sax players, the most prominent one being the World Saxophone Quartet's Julius Hemphill, who adds some good old-fashioned honking to the start & stop-marching band swing of "Freddy's Step." Equally pleasing and the album's most explicitly non-jazz moment is the lazy blues of "Love Motel," which boasts nifty guitar/cello-interplay, another nice sax solo and seems to be driven by the ghost of Sonny Sharrock. The remaining three cuts are hardly as satisfactory, even though "The Lone Ranger" displays a mysteriously surrealistic vibe that's part Twin Peaks, part squeak & skronk-fest. Surprisingly, it's the album's opening title track that might receive the most resistance. It may start off in typical Frisell-fashion with a tenderness that hovers dangerously close towards new age, until it's suddenly taken over by the awful-sounding clamour of outdated drum programming and keyboards. The Frisell-Lindsay match-up gives enjoyable results - especially if you're into the high-pitched squeals of some Satriani-albums - but the sound won't be easy too overcome. Many of Frisell's albums contain a timeless quality, but with a sound this obnoxious, you'll find yourself skip to the suite. As such, Before We Were Born is a fine introduction to the mastery and genre-blending of Frisell, yet without the consistency he'd achieve on several later albums.

Where in the World? (1991) by The Bill Frisell Band

8.5

Unsung Heroes / Rob Roy / Spell / Child at Heart / Beautiful E. / Again / Smilin' Jones / Where in the World? / Worry Doll / Let Me In

Some musicians peak artistically and commercially before they're even out of their adolescence (so to speak), while others don't take this shortcut (or don't get it thrown into their laps), but choose the long and winding road to general acclaim instead. Frisell made his recording debut (under his own name) when he was already in his thirties and gradually became more and more of a household name, until a string of albums and collaborations in the 90's finally uncovered him as one of the brightest stars in modern jazz, and quite possibly the most recognisable guitar player of his generation. At the tender age of 53, Frisell even received a Grammy. His first few albums were recorded for the popular ECM-label, which proved to be the ideal playground for Frisell to experiment with his particular sound, because once you've heard the guy, the notion of "sound" gets an entirely different meaning. Although he was influenced by the classic guitar players out there (Wes Montgomery being the most obvious one), Frisell started experimenting with sound techniques quite early, which set him apart from the flock from the very start. His kind of virtuosity is completely different than say, John McLaughlin's or Larry Corryell's. It's usually not about running up and down the scales with a blinding fury and velocity, it's not about bravado, it's not about energy. The difference between most of today's guitarists and Frisell could be compared to the different between Dizzy Gillespie (during the be-bop era) and Miles Davis (in the late '50s and onwards). Gillespie was most definitely a tremendous player and he proved this with a style that could border on the insanely speedy and nervous sometimes, blowing melodies against a blinding speed. Davis, who also could play a mean trumpet, chose a different approach, adhering more importance to sound, the logic of the big picture and, most importantly, space. Like Davis, Frisell is a master of space, of knowing when to hold back and let the tension be created by the absence of notes instead of by the notes. Even when he's actually playing a longer part/solo, Frisell's music is still a breath of fresh air. Where in the World, his seventh album, third for Nonsuch/Elektra and the first one of his eclectic 90's output, works as an excellent introduction to his unique style, which depended as much on experiments with delay, reverb and looping as on anything else. As such, it seems that also Sonny Sharrock must've been an influence on Frisell's work, even though the latter's become less inclined to lay down a fearless racket in recent years. He could freak out with the best of them, though, as he was a member of one of the most intense, radical and noisy bands of its (or any) era during the late 80's and early 90's: John Zorn's Naked City. This extremely well-developed talent for adapting himself to his surroundings without disbanding his trademark style (even during Naked City's frenetic hardcore assaults, Frisell's approach was unmistakeable) and a fondness of genres that are all over the map (classic jazz, rock, world music and - especially - country/bluegrass*) has also made him a very popular session guitarist/collaborator (resulting in sessions for and appearances with Ginger Baker, Elvis Costello, Joe Lovano, Marianne Faithful and, most recently, Loudon Wainwright III and Vic Chesnutt) and provider of soundtracks and even ballet music.

Where in the World? is completely soaked in the laidback style and mood of many of Frisell's endeavours, while the backing of Joey Baron (drums), Hank Roberts (cello) and Kermit Driscoll (bass), who had already been his sidekicks for a few years, is extremely sympathetic. If you expect straightforward jazz and swing, you will be disappointed, as Where in the World? resides in Frisell Country, where jazz, classical, rock and country live harmoniously next to each other in a style that's almost ambient in its looseness and cinematic in its scope. It takes "Unsung Heroes" about ten seconds to set the tone for the rest of the album, as Baron continues a lazy, sleep-drunk groove over which guitar and cello shift alternately or simultaneously, creating a spooky atmosphere that's a bit similar to Badalamenti's work for Lynch's Twin Peaks-series. There's jazz, there's lounge, there are winks, and all of it is wrapped up in melancholy. This movie atmosphere is also kept up throughout "Rob Roy," which resembles some of Zorn's Morricone-tributes and throws in some "stylish" cello parts and the sudden emergence of a disjointed guitar solo. While the album's very cohesive in style and sound, most of the songs have something special going for them: "Child at Heart" starts off with an almost creepy noir atmosphere and continues with a smooth vibe until the song suddenly switches to an almost ridiculously simple rock-oriented tightness and drive; "Beautiful E." has more in common with chamber music than jazz and is the most gorgeous, dream-like and melancholy song on the album; and the title track is Frisell Grand Cru: a delicate acoustic guitar, cello and hesitating drums exploring each other, flirting, searching for a direction and then, halfway the song, finding themselves and their confidence and sway towards the end in a propulsive daze that merges trance-like folk with pop and jazz. This tender and extremely melodic approach is at the core of Frisell's work, which seems totally devoid of machismo, big statements and self-indulgence. Compared to the album's highlights, "Smilin' Jones" is a bit slight, while songs like "Again" and "Worry Doll" might lack a certain immediate appeal, but when you allow them to sink in, the ungraspable core of Frisell's work is again uncovered. Even though it's not the best, most distinctive or adventurous album of Frisell's catalogue, it works as an ideal introduction to his wholly personal style, which is most often a reflection of the class and gentleness the master himself seems to possess. I saw Frisell play with a quartet (with Eyvind Kang on violin, Curtis Fowlkes on trombone and Ron Miles on trumpet) at the end of 1995 and it still stands as one of the best concerts I have ever seen. I can still remember the delicate lyricism and sheer melancholy of the music to this very day, as well as the guitarist's awkward self-absorbed style, which was totally devoid of self-consciousness. Bent over his guitar, rocking back and forth, entirely caught op by the hypnotic groove of the music, Frisell gave us a wonderful concert experience, in the process inventing a new verb as well: "Billing"**. But okay, that's a stupid inside joke. In the meantime, explore the man's work and if you don't know where to start, Where in the World will do the job.

* When asked to fill out one of them Desert Island Top Tens, Frisell's list included Back, Ives, Coltrane, Hank Williams and Dylan, a.o.

** Stand up straight, your arms in "air guitar-mode," move your left foot forward a foot and make half a bow, an repeat this. Keep on bowing, ever so gently rocking back and forth. Congratulations, you're Billing!