As big, bold, quirky, and lovely as its namesake (and birthplace) Bill Frisell’s new Big Sur album is destined to be a classic in the guitarist’s catalog. Frisell has made a career out of defying musical boundaries and shrugging off genre labels; you’ll most likely find his albums under “jazz,” but know that this man can play the blues, pick the grass, twang the boards off the side of the barn, and jam with the trippiest of them.
Frisell’s Big Sur – featuring his new “Big Sur Quartet”: violinist Jenny Sheinman; cellist Hank Roberts; Eyvind Kang on viola; and drummer Rudy Royston – is the result of a commission by the Monterey Jazz Festival, which landed Frisell a residency at the 860-acre Glen Deven Ranch in Big Sur, CA. Just the man, a guitar, and his notebooks – in a setting that offered beauty, solitude, and inspiration.
We talked with Bill about the experience of having complete freedom to be and to create – with the occasional wild animal thrown into the mix.
BR: Bill, when I first heard about this project – before I actually heard the album – I thought you might be doing another project like the one based on Hunter Thompson’s “The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent And Depraved” article.
BF: Oh, yeah … (laughs)
Which concerned me, because as beautiful as Kerouac’s Big Sur is, there’s some serious darkness there …
Oh, I know – I was actually reading it while I was up at Big Sur. It was incredible. Kerouac’s description of his arrival at Big Sur at the beginning of the book was sort of an exaggeration of my own. He was going up there to clean himself up from drinking or whatever; I was going to clean up my brain from … you know … all the chaos around me.
But he describes getting there late at night – he was walking from Monterey or wherever he was coming from – and describes this ravine and he runs into a donkey and all this stuff happens. When I went there, it was in the night – the flight was cancelled and I was really late – and I’m driving up this narrow, dark road and I don’t know where I’m going.
It was kind of amazing: he just nailed the description. Also, there’s this sort of darker thing about it, too; it’s spectacularly beautiful and spacious … but there’s this underbelly to it, at the same time.
Of all the songs on the album, if I was going to pick one that could be a soundtrack to the Kerouac book, I guess it would be the title track. It seems to capture some of that tension and darkness … and the beauty.
That’s cool. Once I got there and started writing the music, things kind of … (laughs) … I just sort of entered into the music. But being there gave me the space in my head to just write. I wasn’t trying to really capture some picture or anything – I was just sort of … writing music.
The very last thing I always do are the titles; I go back and listen to the stuff and say, “Well, this must remind me of something …” (laughter) It’s always like that – the title is sort of an afterthought.
That’s interesting. How much of the music do you think was generated by being at Big Sur, rather than just a result of being isolated like that?
There was this double thing of incredible space and beauty around me, which – of course – affected me, as you say. But even more important was the space in my own mind to just be with myself. That is so rare these days; I didn’t know what time it was; there was no internet; no phone; no TV – none of that stuff. It was just basic follow-through of whatever. There was no pressure at all.
And even though I was writing the music for the Monterey Jazz Festival – that’s where we played the music – it was so far into the future that I didn’t feel that deadline thing either.
You had a completely empty canvas to work with.
Exactly. I’ve never had an experience quite like that.
Had the Monterey Jazz Festival done anything like that previously? I know they’d commissioned pieces, certainly, but had they set someone up in an environment like that to write?
I think I might’ve been the guinea pig for that. (laughter) I think they’d been talking about doing it for a while. There’s one song on the album called “Song for Lana Weeks” and she’s the woman who works for the Big Sur Land Trust. Lana and Tim Jackson, who’s the Monterey Jazz Festival’s Artistic Director, have been thinking about this for quite a while.
Some people wouldn’t want to go up there and be all by themselves, you know? So they had to find somebody. Tim knew me – and knew me well enough to know that I might be interested … and I definitely was.
Would you go back?
Yeah … for sure! It was like paradise for me.
So, no cellphone; no laptop; no TV. The big question is, what did you take for instruments?
The first time I went – I went twice – was in April of last year for 10 days. And I just had a Collings guitar with me.
I always have just one instrument with me at a time. Someday – when I grow up (laughter) – I’ll have roadies and all that stuff. But whatever I can carry with me is what I have.
So, a Collings acoustic?
No, actually it’s a semi-hollowbody electric that’s kind of like a 335 Gibson. I think they call it an I-35.
Oh, sure – I have a Collings mandolin, which is a much better instrument than I’ll ever be a player. It’s beautiful.
Oh, they’re just incredible, aren’t they? I have a Collings dreadnought, too – it’s an amazing instrument.
So you arrived at Big Sur during the night and took in your surroundings the next morning. How long was it before the music showed up; before you started to write?
Well … I think right away. It’s hard to say. I’d just walk around and all day I’d be writing something. It’s almost like drawing or … or …
Sketching?
Exactly. So I’d walk – even without my guitar – out on these trails with a little notebook and try to write down melodies. There were tons of stuff; what ended up on the record or what we did for the gig is just a small part of it. I should go through those notebooks more to see what else is in there.
Maybe there’ll be a Big Sur Volume II …
Could be! (laughs) But that’s kind of the way I write. I accumulate all the little bits; all the raw stuff … and then I go back and try to refine it.
There’s not even that much different material on the album, really. There are pieces that are related to each other; or even the same piece played in a different way.
I remember thinking “A Good Spot” and “A Beautiful View” were variations on the same theme … and hearing quotes of various pieces tucked in here and there. It really gives the album a true “suite” feel. I can easily imagine the individual tracks just flowing into each other, if you chose to present them in that manner.
Oh, yeah. In a few weeks we’re going to be touring in Europe and I’m really excited about that. I’m sure the music is going to evolve and change as we play it. We really just did the one gig in Monterey and then we did the record – the music is really still in the early stages.
Am I right that you returned to Glen Deven with the quartet?
Yeah – right before the Monterey performance. That was cool: they could see what I was thinking about. It was a really great way to rehearse for the gig, because instead of just having the notes on the piece of paper, we all had that same experience of being there.
How structured were the arrangements when you presented the songs to those folks?
That’s the thing: with this band, it’s kind of amazing. Everybody’s looking at the same part – sometimes there could be three or four harmony parts or whatever – but they’re very free to choose what they want to do. They’re making these spontaneous orchestration decisions really quickly on their own. Sometimes everybody will be playing the same thing … or someone will switch to a different part … or they’ll turn it around backwards … and that’s what I love about this band. I’ve known everybody for so long and we don’t have to figure it out … it’s not written out as if it was for the “Such-and-such String Quartet” (laughter) where everything has to be a certain way.
I wanted to ask you about Lee Townsend, who produced the album. With a project such as this, it seems to me that a producer has to walk a fine line between maintaining a certain level of control and letting things happen organically.
That’s right. Lee and I have done so many records together … and he knows me well enough that from project to project he’ll change his approach, depending on what the project is. Like when we did the Floratone records together, Lee was really, really deep into actually affecting the whole structure of the music – compositionally and every kind of way.
With something like this, it’s more just about the vibe; about trying to make it comfortable for the musicians. Lee knows when to just let it go … when to let it happen.
There are some great producers in the world, but you know in a heartbeat that an album is one of theirs, because they slap their trademark sound all over it. But that’s cool to hear that about Lee – it’s as if he’s improvising along with the rest of you.
That’s true. And Adam Muñoz did an amazing job of recording and mixing, as well. He always does.
How about if we look at a few specific songs on the album?
Hopefully, I’ll remember them! (laughter)
Fair enough! “Sing Together Like A Family” made me smile. There’s a hybrid Appalachian fiddle tune roaming around in the background.
On that one, I noticed after we recorded it – and this is one of the things that really excites me about this band – the whole intonation and rhythmic thing that we have together. The music gets into this unexplainable place where everybody is always making these tiny adjustments in tune with each other or in time with each other. Even if we’re playing the exact same thing, there’s a sound that starts happening like a … a … a family that sings together! (laughter) I guess that’s what I was thinking about.
There you go.
So even if the music or the parts are set in a certain way, there’s something else that starts happening … and everybody starts adjusting to each other. It’s really exciting.
I think that’s the key to good formation flying.
Yeah, yeah – exactly! That’s an amazing way to describe it … I’m going to use that. That’ll be another title. (laughter)
I’m deeply honored.
But it’s perfect: if you turn the wrong way –
You take out everybody!
Right! (laughter)
“Going To California” has this grand and stately feel to it; but there’s also this ominous thread that runs through the song, as well. Was there some nervousness on your part when you decided you were going to California to stay at Big Sur?
Well, maybe not before the trip – but that first morning I woke up and said, “Wow – this is the most awesome, extraordinary place I’ve ever seen!” I felt so relaxed; just walking around and taking it all in.
I ran into the caretaker who lives down the road. He’s an amazing guy; he’s lived there for years and years and knows every inch of the land. We talked for a hour and at the end he says, “Actually if you’re going to go down that trail there, I’d better get you a stick – there are mountain lions here…”
And I’m like, “What?” (laughter)
He says, “Don’t worry,” but he’s just sort of planted this little seed of this … this … other thing – the dark side. (laughter) So after that, every time I went out, I had this little feeling of being completely by myself, walking down these trails, and thinking something’s going to jump out at me. (laughs)
Or one night there was this incredible storm – thunder and lightning and wind – and the electricity went out and it felt like the house was going to blow away. I mean, there’s stuff there that’s … scary, really. It’s not like being in a dark alley in New York in the middle of the night, or whatever – it’s a different sort of scary.
I hear you. And at the same time, we have a song like “The Big One”, which is one big, sunshiny smile. It seems like there had to be at least one let-it-fly surf tune birthed from being in that setting. One of the things that makes that song so neat is the fact that you don’t often get to hear a viola, a cello, and a violin play surf music.
Yeah that was cool. (laughs) I wrote that tune when I was at Big Sur and I started playing it at rehearsal almost as a joke, thinking “We can’t really play this …” But then everybody was like, “Oh no, we’ve got to play that!” (laughter) I wasn’t even sure that I was going to put it on the record, actually. But it does make sense with the whole California thing.
“Cry Alone” is a beautiful piece, but it feels so personal that it’s almost embarrassing. It’s like looking over your shoulder while you’re writing in a journal.
Well … (laughs) Thanks!
I just hope you had no reason to actually cry alone.
No, no! (laughter)
And then there’s “We All Love Neil Young” – which we all do, of course … but what was the inspiration for that?
I don’t know … (laughter) Neil lives not too far from there. I’ve never seen where he lives or anything, but I’ve read books about his ranch and all that. We’d always be talking about “Neil this” or “Neil that” and somehow that song just … I don’t know – it made me think of him.
We talked about a string section playing surf music – then they turn around and launch into the blues of “Shacked Up”.
Yeah – that was so great to do that.
We mentioned Lana Weeks earlier, who has a song named for her. We should probably also mention Jim Cox, who “Walking Stick” is dedicated to.
Jim is the caretaker guy I was telling you about. He carved me a walking stick out of a branch to carry around with me. It was cool.
To fend off the mountain lions.
Yeah, yeah – “I’ll take care of ‘em” … with my stick. (laughter)
Bill, thanks so much for taking the time to do this today. I’ve really enjoyed listening to Big Sur – and equally enjoyed talking with you about it.
Thank you – this was fun. And thank you so much for listening; I appreciate it.
*****
Brian Robbins fends off mountain lions and such over at www.brian-robbins.com.
