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Bill Frisell Trio
A band of many guitars
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Bill Frisell is a great bunch of guitarists — jazz, blues, rock, and country — and they all showed up during the opening set by his trio featuring bassist Viktor Krauss, and drummer Kenny Wolleson back on November 18, at the Regattabar. The trio seemed to drift into their set, as if they were lost, then suddenly found their way as the melody became more apparent and the beat firmed up. It’s a ruse, of course; these guys know exactly what they’re doing. But the feeling of uncertainty and dislocation adds tension and a surreal touch to the music’s charm. Frisell dotted his angelic honky-tonk lines with little dissonant clusters of notes that kept his solo just left of center, then segued into a loopy pink-elephants-on-parade riff that developed a sour electric edge, with distorted notes that made the guitar sound like a malfunctioning music box. The imperturbable Krauss restored order with a firm one-two bass line and Frisell emerged from his sonic cloud of overtones with a gorgeously focused melodic improvisation that blended country music, the blues, and a hint of Les Paul. Frisell took a reverently hushed unaccompanied introduction to "Shenandoah," embellishing the song with faint little echoes of notes. When the bass and drums slipped in, he built a solo of lovely contrasts, sweet folk-pop melodies spiked with dark knots of sound so the music was both comforting and unsettled. The same could be said of "Egg Radio," a tune redolent of ’50s slow dances and puppy love into which Frisell interjected an off-center beat and some sharp-edged riffing that dispelled the nostalgic haze. On the final funky tune, he conjured that same alien-yet-familiar dichotomy using a weird underwater garble timbre as he played a hook-laden solo. Unaccompanied on "My Man’s Gone Now," Frisell let the melody speak for itself, then cued the band for a slow blues in which his solo echoed with an encyclopædia of styles — gospel, Delta, country, and jazz — in down-home postmodern profusion. Bassist Krauss was a Nashville Charlie Haden, concise and empathetic. He kept Frisell’s lines harmonically grounded and often functioned as the steady rhythmic pivot around which Wolleson and Frisell spun. Wolleson was loose and relaxed and had no trouble keeping up with Frisell’s improvising, answering back with accents, quick fills, and embellishments. They worked together with an easy-going rapport that brought extra warmth to the familiar strains of the music and cushioned the shock of its many eccentricities.
By Ed Hazell
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