Bill Frisell is the unassuming guy in a flannel shirt, wearing Sketchers. He has this ‘everyman’ aura that one would not typically associate with one of the most inventive, fascinating guitarists of the past five decades, one who is likely to become an NEA Jazz Master at some point. He conducts himself with grace and humility, whether on stage or off. His recordings are as much a gathering of close friends as they are musical projects.
If you’ve been following Frisell, you will recognize every member of this assembled sextet for this expansive 2-LP/2-CD set,In My Dreams, as a longtime collaborator. It only makes sense that on his 75th birthday, he would turn to violinist Jenny Scheinman, violist Eyvind Kang, cellist Hank Roberts, bassist Thomas Morgan, and drummer Rudy Royston for a ‘family reunion.’Long-time cohort Lee Townsend produced, and Adam Munoz engineered. The core tracks were recorded live (sans audience audio), while the others were recorded in the studio. Frisell composed nine of the twelve.
Scheinman affectionately calls it ‘Bill’s string band.” Yet, although some folk/Americana tunes populate this repertoire, this contingent does not operate like a bluegrass or old-timey unit with a series of solos and choruses. Frisell’s sextet aims for a collective sound, with him as its gentle guiding presence throughout. The album has a retrospective feel; those sounds and tendencies we’ve long associated with Frisell are all here, the fluid segues between jazz, folk, blues, hymnals, and Americana. Yet, he never dominates; instead, he serves as a quiet, capable catalyst for conversation. One ringing guitar note inspires Scheinman, Kang, or Roberts to provide counterpoint or move in a slightly different direction. The communication among these members is telepathic. Their listening is at the highest level of acuity.
The title, although it could easily be interpreted as his ‘dream’ band, relates to a dream that he had thirty years ago. Several monk-like figures sit around a table, first showing him an array of colors, and then ‘what real music sounds like.’ Frisell claims that he heard all of these sounds – Nino Rota, Thelonious Monk, Sonny Rollins, Charles Ives, Jimi Hendrix, Hank Williams, Andres Segovia, and Robert Johnson in that one dream before he woke up. This is not to imply that you will hear all of those sounds here, but Frisell claims that this is the closest he has come to that point. Several things are happening simultaneously. Space is the seventh septet member. Here’s a small snippet of Frisell’s statement in the liners: Space create/Create space/Trust space/Listen space/Forgiveness space/Argue space/Resolution space.
Most tracks have the full ensemble, but the opener, “Trapped in the Sky,” presents noirish harmonies between violin and viola. “When We Go,” from the guitarist’s 1985 ECM Rambler, is a resurrection of those early sounds that made Frisell singular. The guitar’s folkloric melody is prominent, later picked up by Morgan’s bass as grooves develop and melt away. The title track is a prime example of his hushed, floating lyricism, the ensemble refracting and ricocheting the guitarist’s spare, resonating lines. “Isfahan,” from Ellington and Strayhorn, is one that Frisell longed to cover. Just as the composers intended to evoke the poetic aspects of the Persian city, Frisell’s treatment honors that legacy. “Curtis (a year and a day)” is a tribute to trombonist Curtis Fowkles, written with Kang’s viola part in mind, yet all three string players combine to produce a haunting low-register sound.
While the ensemble often plays with chamber-like grace, there’s a harder edge that lurks near the surface. That edge manifests itself in the folk/Americana tune “Why?”, “Home on the Range,” and Frisell’s contrafact of the latter, “Give Me a Home.” On these, the tandem of Morgan and Royston exerts force against the pastoral, calm soundscapes. Frisell and the ensemble reshape these pieces, with unexpected notes, inventive loops, and textural layers. Stephen Foster’s “Hard Times” stands out, featuring the slimmed-down ensemble of Frisell, Scheinman, Kang, and Roberts, who collectively dig deep into the emotional side of this hymnal.
In My Dreams proves that subtlety, judicious use of space, and generous, trusted sharing can deliver a quietly gorgeous soundscape. Frisell harnesses all his trademark attributes into one, evocative declarative statement.
