Original image by There Stands the Glass.
I’ve said it a thousand times: jazz isn’t merely something that happened long ago. Just as giants like Django Reinhardt, John Coltrane and Cecil Taylor transfigured past decades, equally brilliant improvisors continue to push the music forward. Bill Frisell is one such modern master. The guitarist’s new album Valentine- his 42nd album as a leader by my count- is yet another stunning triumph. Abetted by bassist Thomas Morgan and drummer Rudy Royston, Frisell continues to find fresh and engaging ways to expand his unique conception. The incorporation of the pop and folk sounds of the early 1960s with the innovations of guitarists ranging from Wes Montgomery to Jimi Hendrix doesn’t seem particularly promising, but Frisell has successfully mined the genre-fluid terrain for decades. My immediate affinity for Valentine is partly due to catching Frisell perform most of the selections live in the past 24 months, but I can’t imagine anyone not admiring of his gorgeous interpretations of the familiar melodies “What the World Needs Now is Love,” “Wagon Wheels” and "We Shall Overcome".
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I kvetch about politicians’ gaffes at Plastic Sax.
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Robert Wilson’s version of John Cage’s “Lecture on Nothing” at National Sawdust’s virtual festival last week was my first encounter with the absurdist treatise. I was particularly amused by the unexpected references to Kansas. The state is “like nothing on earth!”
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I read Keri Hulme’s The Bone People several months ago. Inspired by the novel’s frequent references to recordings by Julian Bream, I began exploring to the guitarist's vast catalog in earnest. I quickly fell under his spell. Bream died last week.
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I took in 22 performances of the August 16 edition of the Bang on a Can Marathon. My five favorite sets: Sarah Cahill (performing Annea Lockwood); Kaki King (original compositions); Rebekah Heller (performing Marcos Balter); Craig Taborn (original improvisation); Oliver Lake (original compositions).
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Opera update: The BBC’s version of “Porgy and Bess” was the 145th dose of my daily injection of opera. I’ll share two takes. I realize mine isn’t among the most important voices in the ongoing debate about “Porgy and Bess,” but I’m now able to authoritatively attest that the principle characters are as fully realized as any figures in opera. They’re more respectfully rendered than the individuals portrayed in similarly agrarian Italian operas like “L’Elisir d’Amore,” “Ruggero Leoncavallo” and “Cavalleria Rusticana.” Secondly, “Bess, You Is My Woman Now” is the equal of any Puccini aria.