By: Ilya Ratner
If a stranger to Bill Frisell’s music had accidentally stumbled into the Cedar Cultural Center Friday, he probably wouldn’t have guessed that the modest looking musician was renowned and respected in the music universe. He may have guessed that the congregation sitting snuggly inside were attending a reunion, reminiscing about times past, and that the quaint guitarist was the quirky uncle. But after a few songs, I guarantee that the auspicious traveler would’ve realized the exceptional talent of the musicians, and would himself become a member of this familial gathering; a relative through music.
The night sauntered comfortably. Vague jokes were passed around. And though Frisell’s endearing rants on technophobia and airline security were a bit undercooked, his lucid arrangements were the works of a masterful music chef canvassing American classics.
Joined by crack-musicians Greg Leisz on lap and pedal steel, Kenny Wollesen on drums and Dave Piltch on bass, Frisell’s New Quartet painted a folk-jazz-alt-country masterpiece. Stuffed with a motley assortment of ingredients and pressure cooked, the Frisellian stew seamlessly blended musical styles. Familiar melodies like “When the Saints Come Marching in,” crept up like specters, astounding in both simplicity and ingenuity. His interpretations materialized unexpectedly, slowly and methodically, building on hazy progressions that were hauntingly familiar, yet fresh and new.
The night was a quiz show for the musically inclined. As they played through covers of Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War,” David Hal and Burt Bacharach’s “What the World Needs Now,” and Jackson Browne's “Load Out/Stay,” the instrumentals hung somewhere on the periphery of the original. The covers were indolent, sprawling, and idiosyncratic; sometimes hauntingly syncopated and lush, while at others bare and melancholy, floating and serene. “Masters of War,” displayed this dynamism, dissolving to simplicity and then building up to a fat crescendo.
Though recreated, each song retained a hint of the original ambiance. A Thelonious Monk cover was scratch-and-claw, tumbling bop, with Wollesen driving the beat like a mad-dash racer, tapping out ghost notes, and deftly floating on the cymbals. “Saints” was reverent and patriotic, while Otis Redding’s “Sitting on the Dock of the Bay” was relaxed. But they all had Frisell’s choppiness, his harmonic bends, and his muted arpeggios.
Enveloping Frisell’s guitar, Leisz’s slide swayed, standing out in slower songs, evaporating into the background and then howling into the high registers. The lap and pedal steels guided the music throughout the night, imbuing it with Nashville hues. While Leisz was conspicuous in musicianship, Piltch, the bassist, was more personality – bobbing and rocking, exchanging through gestures with the crowd, and smiling throughout.
I too had a smile pasted across my face at the end of the night, my desire for more notwithstanding. For a mild technophobe, Frisell’s music doesn’t shy away from inventiveness. His covers reinvigorate relics of a different time and his fusion compositions are electric-kool-aid odysseys worthy of the Grateful Dead. Friday’s performance has indeed made a stranger to live Frisell a fan, and part of his musical family.
Photo by Ilya Ratner.
Location Info:
Cedar Cultural Center
Artist Info: Bill Frisell
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