Bill Frisell's studio recordings are often a search for context, as though some setting, e.g., cover tunes, horn sections or Buster Keaton films, is needed to present the guitarist effectively. Live, recorded in Spain in 1991, simply turns the trio loose for a whinning, wide ranging set covering the extremes of Frisell's music, from ethereal tone poems to buzzing grunge/surf hybrids.
"Throughout" and "Hello Nellie" express Frisell's duelism, with bucolic longing on the surface, and menacing undercurrents of dissonance just below. The set list surveys Frisellian themes spanning his career up to that point, and previews covers of Sonny Rollins' "No Moe" and John Hiatt's "Have a Little Faith" just before the studio versions were recorded. Over the years, Frisell has re-recorded many of these tunes, and they instantly sound familar, however strange. (Ocaasionally you get a sense of Deja Vu, and ask, "Didn't they play that already?")
As the co-billing suggests, producer Hans Wendl recorded the trio members as equals, allowing you to hear the contributions of drummer Joey Baron and bassist Kermit Driscoll with clarity and realism. Baron is statisfyingly loud, rambunctious and unpredictable. Driscoll benifits most from the space vacated by departed cellist Hank Roberts. The versatile bassist takes on additional responsibilities, adding color or simulating rhythm guitar, as on "Strange Meeting." Frisell stretches out, too, reiterating themes with a protean collection of voicings. His use of delay conjures the sound of multiple guitarists at work. Live is both a good introduction and an oppurtunity to hear the trio's interaction without the prism of the recording studio.
Frisell takes risks with the ambitious, ultimately disappointing collaborations of American Blood/Safety In Numbers. Brian Ales sampled and reconstituted Frisell's taped guitar solo to assemble rhythm beds for "Safety In Numbers." In real-time Frisell gamely struggles to play something interesting on top of these beds. The novelty passes quickly, as Ales' constructions are mechanical and grating. "American Blood" finds Frisell sounding brittle and edgy while accompanying the morbid poetry of Victor Bruce Godsey, as spoken or sung (sort of) by it's author. After the second or third poem/song about death, one looks for the remote control. -Jon Andrews |
