Bill Frisell Trio at Blues Alley

Bill Frisell Trio
Blues Alley
Washington, DC
November 21, 2024

With each decade, Bill Frisell's guitarwork gets rawer, more direct—and better. Whereas his classic 1980s albums could feature irregular instrumentation, such as Rambler's (ECM) tuba and flugelhorn, or atmospheric musings as on In Line (ECM), today Frisell tends to follow the "KISS principle": keep it simple, stupid. In his trio with bassist Thomas Morgan and drummer Rudy Royston, Frisell focuses on wringing every last drop from a single chord, or letting the beauty of a classic American folk song speak for itself. Even on this year's Orchestras (Blue Note), where the trio is joined by the Brussels Philharmonic and the Umbria Jazz Orchestra, Frisell doesn't let the augmented arrangements obstruct the pursuit of one good note.

At Washington, DC's prestigious Blues Alley, the trio showed how much there is to gain from scaling back the complexity and focusing on the basics. The opener, Frisell's "Monroe"—a slow, bluesy waltz—is so plain and unadorned that, paradoxically, a lesser musician wouldn't know what to do with it or how to keep the audience's attention. But for a master like Frisell, the lack of melodic or harmonic bells and whistles only raises the stakes of doing just the right thing at every moment.

On "Monroe," which Frisell has recorded several times over the years, and on the next tune, a Thelonious Monk-like blues, each player left plenty of room for silence, allowing everyone to dwell on the dissonances and clashes in between. Jazz musicians are always searching for new ways to play the blues, whether by adding more, and more complicated, chords into the mix or by playing tricks on the form. Frisell went in the other direction, going with a short chromatic melody and the simpler chord progression that blues-rock guitarists tend to follow. Royston also brought a rocker's aggression to his solo, the noisiest, most conventionally virtuosic moment of the night.

Whereas some of Frisell's earlier playing might be called spacey, exhibiting the introspective murmurings often associated with record label ECM, now it might better be called spacious, giving his colleagues ample time for their own thoughts, and the audience a chance to absorb Frisell's use of various pedal effects. Frisell and Morgan kept their eyes locked on each other throughout the night, but Royston's drumming provided an equally essential voice. The guitarist and bassist have recorded two excellent live duo albums, Small Town and Epistrophy (ECM); but Royston's subdued commentary and raucous soloing alike were a reminder of how much a drummer can add to an ensemble's textures, and to a concert's energy.

Having established the night's mood—a freewheeling blend of Americana and blues filtered through the jazz idiom—the trio added new sounds to the mix. Frisell brought a sinister sense of foreboding to "Strange Meeting," another original that he has recorded several times. Then he swerved in a new direction for a Latin-inflected swing.

The trio took no pauses throughout the show, instead letting a patch of noise gradually segue into the next tune. One can't be sure, because he didn't speak a word all night, but Frisell seemed to be choosing the setlist on the spot, perhaps using each tune's agreeably messy finish to mentally flip through his musical rolodex before settling on the next number. It wasn't always clear what they were playing: an extended ending, a unique bridge between two tunes, or maybe a long intro into the next one.

In the same way, it wasn't always clear when one musician's solo ended and the next began—as the audience's occasional confusion about when to applaud attested. Or maybe conventional, discrete "solos" aren't even the right way to think about this trio's approach to music. This group's playing is more like a casual bull session among three great conversationalists, each flowing in and out of relative prominence, eager to react to what the others are saying even as they're saying it. And just as in a conversation where people occasionally repeat themselves, Frisell often interspersed his playing with echoes of the melody, giving some solidity and structure to the masterful rambling.

The trio closed with "You Only Live Twice," the Nancy Sinatra-sung track to the 1967 James Bond film of the same name, which Frisell and Morgan previously recorded on Epistrophy. Frisell's pedal board went to especially good effect here; after mimicking the original song's guitar line, he locked the riff into repeat, allowing himself to harmonize with himself, then using those harmonies as a background while embarking on one more distorted solo. That solo proved the final word of the show's conversation—when the trio finished, they walked off stage without a word—but it ensured that the appreciative audience would leave with plenty to discuss themselves.

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