EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED
He may be the most important jazz guitarist of the last quarter of the 20th century, but a listen to most of Bill Frisell's recent recordings could leave an uninitiated listener thinking, "This is jazz?" Ever since the release of the acclaimed Nashvllle in 1997 (Jazz Album of the Year in Downbeat's critics' poll), Frisell has primarily been playing and composing a kind of heartland instrumental music that explores the places where jazz intersects with other American roots music, including blues, bluegrass, and old time country muic. As if to answer those who wonder whether his music can still be called jazz, Frisell released a trio recording last fall with two modern jazz legends, drummer Elvin Jones and bassist Dave Holland. Jones is one of the most powerful rhythmatists ever to smack a skin, best known for his membership in the groundbreaking, early-'60s John Coltrane Quartet, and Holland has been one of the premier acoustic bassists on the scene since his tenure with Miles Davis in the late '60s.
Bill Frisell with Dave Holland and Elvin Jones continues to frustrate those who put Frisell's music in a box. Instead of burning jazz trio session with large dollops of searing, ambient electric guitar, which might have been expected from such a lineup, Frisell used Holland and Jones to further expand the borders of his melodic, roots-oriented music, creating a recording that nonetheless virtually defines where jazz guitar is at the beginning of the new millenium. He chose to record a batch of originals previously recorded, as if simply to see what Jones and Holland might do with them, along with a pair of standards from Henry Mancini and Stephen Foster. From first cut to last, Frisell's acoustic and electric guitars rock, whisper, slither, moan, chortle, and sing, accompanied by cohorts who eagerly follow him like shadows from twin suns, no matter what odd path he wanders down.
Since the dissolution of his longtime band with bassist Kermit Driscoll and drummer Joey Baron, Frisell has taken the opportunity to record, perform, and jam with musicians of every conceivable stripe. A performance at the San Francisco Jazz Festival last November with slide guitar master Greg Leisz and new-bossa singer and guitarist Vinicius Cantuaria saw Frisell ranging over a bewildering array of music. The bluesy original "Big Shoe" slipped easily into a repetitive minor-key line written by Malian guitarist Boubacar Traore (who had originally been scheduled to play with Frisell that night), followed by a foray into the country with "Your Cheating Heart" and "John Hardy," aside trip to Hawaii with the slack-keyish original "Good Dog, Happy Man," and a return to Frisell's New York jazz roots with the melodic/dissonant original "Strange Meeting," which took on a Brazilian flavor courtesy of Cantuaria's fingerstyle comping. After all that, the encore of Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On?" was not a bit surprising. For those wondering about Frisell's intent in combining such disparate music, the impish smile that emanated from his face as he interacted with Leisz and Cantuaria explained it clearly: he simply loves all the music he has learned and is learning to play. To Frisell, each melody is like a freshly unwrapped gift.
The morning after Frisell's performance at the San Francisco Jazz Festival, I met with him over breakfast at his hotel. In his shy, unassuming way ("Is it OK if I eat?") he told me about his new records and about the paths his music has taken over the past few years.
Your new record with Elvin Jones and Dave Holland finds you returning to a jazz format after a number of roots-oriented records.
Frisell Yeah, I'm curious about how people are going to perceive it. I didn't feel like I stepped way off the path I'd been on; it felt like the next thing. But we literally had just a few hours to do it, so I used a lot of older tunes. I wanted to make sure that I was comfortable with the music.
How did it come about?
Frisell It was this friend of mine Michael Shrieve's idea. He's a drummer who was in Santana. He's known Elvin since he was a young kid. He snuck in to see John Coltrane's band when he was too young to get into clubs. He climbed into a bathroom window or vent or something, and the whole band-Coltrane and Elvin Jones and McCoy Tyner-were standing there getting ready to play, and they invited him in. That's when he met Elvin, and he's stayed close to him all this time. Michael got it in his head that I should play with Elvin. And I said, "Yeah, right. Like that's ever going to happen." I'd met Elvin once-I'd shook his hand 20 years ago or something-but never dreamed I'd be able to play with him.
How did it become a trio record with Dave Holland?
Frisell I had done a couple of things with Dave, and we were talking about playing some more, maybe a duo record. I knew that Dave had played with Elvin so I asked him to do it-to have a link with Elvin.
You had only a few hours to record?
Frisell Yeah, there were two days
to record, and Elvin got the schedule mixed up-he thought the second
day was the first day. So he finally got there, we played a little
bit, and then the next day we played a little bit more. But it was
really just this little moment-just this little jam session.
Like everybody, I suppose, 1 expected it to be this intense jazz trio session. But you play a lot of acoustic guitar and also incorporate all the other "nonjazz" stuff you've been doing.
Frisell Well, I didn't want to go in and just play something that everyone wants to play with Elvin: "My Favorite Things" or some song like that. It was incredible the way he responded to the material. When we played "Hard Times," he got so excited and said it reminded him of the music he listened to as a kid. He played with Pete Seeger and he loves Big Bill Broonzy, so he's into all this blues stuff. There's even a record he made in the late '60s where he plays acoustic guitar on one song-"Elvin's Guitar Blues."
Did you do some of the live trio tracks with acoustic guitar? "Moon River" is just one guitar: What did you play on that?
Frisell That's one of Steve Andersen's archtops-an L-5 kind of guitar. "Hard Times" was recorded on a Gibson J-45 that Lee Townsend [Frisell's producer] has. I just love that guitar. "Coffaro's Tune" was recorded with that guitar. And I used this Steve KIein guitar-one of his really big ones-on "20 Years," but that was more of an overdub.
The acoustic guitar has been a part of all your records since the beginning, but for a long time you seemed to mostly use it as a different color in the arrangement. Or like the version of "Rag" on Is That You?, where it's kind of a diversion from the rest of the record.
Frisell Yeah, I used to add just like one little overdub with the acoustic. For as long as I've had an acoustic guitar, I've always played it at home. But the electric is still really my voice, mainly. The acoustic is still like another instrument for me. I'm trying to get the acoustic happening, but, ... Maybe I just need to commit to it. I can't imagine doing a whole gig by myself with just the acoustic and nothing else. I'm not that comfortable playing alone anyway, but with the electric guitar I can get through it somehow, with all the junk-the effects and stuff. But just to play completely naked, with the acoustic, that's something I hope someday I could do.
You've been playing with a lot of different people lately, but for a while you primarily played in a trio with Kermit Driscoll and Joey Baron. Do you like having the feeling of every gig being a little different now?
Frisell With Kermit and Joey, that
was really my first band. And that went on for a long time. They
were so integrated into the music, I didn't know that my music would
function without them. I've known Kermit since before I ever wrote
a tune, and they were the ones that encouraged me and gave me the
confidence to do it. So when that came to an end, it was kind of
terrifying. But it was also liberating to try something with other
people. Nashville was one of the first things where I went into
this unknown situation with my own music and with people that I
didn't really know and didn't know how they would respond to it
or play it. And it was cool. And that gave me another shot of confidence
to try it with different people. But then at the same time, I do
want to have a band that really knows my stuff inside out. It's
sort of a safety net, and then I can go out from there and try stuff
with other people.
Your musical relationship with Greg Leisz is quite unique. How did you meet him?
Frisell After Nashville came out, I did a few gigs with [Dobro player] Jerry Douglas and [bassist] Viktor Krauss, and Greg came to one. I didn't know anything about him. After the concert we talked a bit, and I really liked him. He's just the nicest guy in the world. And then I started noticing that he was on what seemed like every record I had bought in the last year. I asked him to play on Good Dog, Happy Man. That was the first time we'd ever played together. Many times I can tell how the music is going to go just by talking to somebody. What Greg is as a person makes what he plays so open and interactive and supportive all at the same time.
The way you two play together is different from the way you play with almost anyone else. There's not as much of a delineation between soloist and accompanist.
Frisell Yeah, I love that. And I don't think we've ever once said, "You solo I here and I'll solo there."I don't know if i it's because he's played with so many singers. That's his thing-to back up singers. But he does it in this unconventional way. He doesn't lay down some real strict rhythm thing. He has a way of supporting a singer and orchestrating what they do. It's unpredictable, but he's always listening to the whole thing. And when I play in the jazz world, playing instrumental music, I'm trying to make my guitar be the singer. A lot of the tunes I play, I'm trying to almost mimic a singer. Like when I play a John Hiatt song, I'll hear John Hiatt singing the song and try to play what his voice was doing. So when I play with Greg, we are both able to be really free. We automatically have these roles in place. But it's not like I'm the singer and he's the orchestrator. It definitely goes back and forth and crosses over.
That brings up one thing about your playing that is different, to my ears, from most jazz musicians: your adherence to the melody of a song. Most jazz musicians start by playing the melody and then get rid of it and improvise on the chord progression. When you improvise, I always hear the melody.
Frisell That's really important for me. The worst-case scenario is where you play the melody ofa song and then it's just, "OK, that's out of the way, now I can play all this stuff I've been practicing." That doesn't interest me. Where things really happen for me is where you try to milk as much out of whatever the song is: work with it, stay with it, turn it inside out, or whatever. That's also where you find your own voice. If you really use the melody of the song, you're true to what the song is, that gives you the framework to show your individuality.
It seems odd that playing the melody al lows you to make more of a personal statement than running off a bunch of chords and scales and licks. That seems more like an older approach to jazz than a post-Charlie Parker thing. Who inspired you to play that way?
Frisell What I still think of as the modern guys, like Thelonious Monk or Sonny Rollins or Miles Davis, whenever they would play they'd constantly remind you of where the melody is. They'd definitely go away from it, but it's somehow always back there. Even somebody like Coltrane, who you think just blew everything apart and played so much stuff, I still hear it in him, too, even if it's 10,000 notes.
You studied with Jim Hall. Did he influence you that way?
Frisell Oh boy, in a lot of ways.
Talking about melody, he would get me to play one idea-some little
phrase or just a couple of notes-and try to stick with that for
awhile and see what I could make out of that, instead of just running
off all over the place. It's trying to develop a theme off of what
you improvise, which ties into the melody, too. You're using fewer
ideas but trying to get more out of them. Everybody can learn what
scale fits with what chord. Not that that's easy. You gotta learn
all that stuff, but if you just start running it off, it doesn't
In addition to that, you and Jim also take advantage of the things that are unique to the guita1; like a simple open-string sound.
Frisell That goes back to playing the acoustic guitar. There was this long time where I didn't listen to any kind of guitar stuff--Or not much. But in the last few years I've definitely gone back and gotten more into just the guitar itself. When I went to Nashville, that kind of opened the floodgates. I thought, "Man, I better check out what's going on." It led me to bluegrass stuff, but I'm really attracted to even older old-timey kinds of stuff. ..and blues, Blind Willie Johnson and Dock Boggs and Roscoe Holcomb.
A lot of musicians have combined blues and jazz and rock into various kinds of music, but very few have added old-time country music to that, as you have.
Frisell I just love when you can find these connections between things. I don't like the way things are categorized: country is that, blues is this, and rock and jazz is that. If you look at any kind of music and go back far enough, there's usually some point where it's the same as the thing it's supposed to be the opposite of. For me, country music and blues is the same. And that whole racial thing really bothers me, the way it's black and white: country is white and blues is black. I get excited when I hear like a really old Bill Monroe record and there's some momentary; thing in there where it sounds exactly like a Duke Ellington record from the same time. Or like when I heard Dock Boggs and I didn't know whether he was black or white. I just really like it when you can't put your finger on it, and I guess I'm trying to get some of that mystery into my own stuff-although it's still in this obvious stage where I'm trying to figure it out. I can't really play those old-time tunes for real. I'm just trying to learn them.
I got an advance copy of the Bill Frisell and the Willies CD with Danny Barnes, and I particularly like how you slowed "John Hardy" way down so it became hymn-like and elegiac.
Frisell Some of those old tunes that bluegrass guys play have become faster and faster, and I just can't play that fast. Danny can, and I struggle along and try. But it's cool to take some of those tunes and say, "I wonder what it would sound like if I played it ten times slower." "Blackberry Blossom" on that record was like that.
Does it feel odd to be playing "Your Cheating Heart"or "John Hardy" at the San Francisco Jazz Festival?
Frisell A couple of weeks ago, we played at the Village Vanguard, which is like the ultimate jazz club. The first day we were there, we set up and started playing "Good Night, Irene," and Lorraine [Gordon], the owner of the club, comes running out with tears in her eyes saying, "Oh man. 'Good Night, Irene.' I remember when Leadbelly was here." She loves Leadbelly, and he used to play that song in there. So I know you're not supposed to do that in the Village Vanguard, but we played a bunch of those tunes and it made total sense.
How do you fit writing into your performance schedule?
Frisell Sometimes I can do a little bit when I'm away from home, but it's better when I'm home and can get some kind of momentum and do a little bit every day. Then one thing starts to lead into another. Sometimes I'll write almost stream-of- consciousness melodies down on paper. Like if you're walking down the street, just whistling, not thinking about it. Sometimes I'll just let it go off, however it goes, or sometimes I'll try to write like a four-bar, real concise, question-and- answer melody or something. But just on paper. And then I'll take my guitar and mess with it and see what it sounds like.
Some of your tunes have simple repeating chord patterns with these long melodies that keep unfolding. Is that where those tunes come from?
Frisell No, those are probably written on the guitar. There'll be some kind of little bit that I can keep going. Sometimes it's just four chords over and over again, and having the underlying pattern generates the melody somehow.
One of your trademarks is ending a phrase with a big root note or triad, with no Iead-in. It seems kind of bizarre to have a signature thing be so simple.
Frisell That's totally true. I never thought about that [laughs]. It's weird to become aware of your own stuff. Now I'll be thinking, "Not that again." When I'm writing, I'm trying to have my ear pull me one step at a time further and further away from the obvious, and then maybe I want to be reminded of where I started.
Frisell I went to Berklee for arranging, and I took these Duke Ellington classes with Herb Pomeroy. One thing he talked about was taking a triad and sticking in one note a half-step away from any note-like if you have a D-major triad and stick an F in there-just to see what it sounds like. Vinicius did that when he was playing "Strange Meeting" last night; he was playing a C-minor chord and then he played a major third-the open E string. And I thought, "Oh wow, he's playing it wrong." But I looked and I saw he was totally committed to it, and I thought, "Wow, that sounds good-that sounds cool."