Cool & lonesome

Orquestra Was and Bill Frisell's
new Nashville sound

by Ed Hazell

Not that long ago it was practically unthinkable for jazz musicians to take country music seriously. Sure, Gary Burton made his Country Roads album. And maybe it was cool to like country-swing violinist Bob Wills.

Times have changed. Last month, producer Don Was released Forever's a Long, Long Time (Verve Forecast), his soulful recasting of the words of country-music icon Hank Williams, with jazz luminaries like pianist Herbie Hancock and trumpeter Terence Blanchard featured prominently in the album's eclectic mix under the name Orquestra Was. The always-unpredictable guitarist Bill Frisell also goes country on his latest, Nashville (Nonesuch), on which an all-star Nashville cast play his off-kilter bluegrass-inspired originals as well as covers of country-style classics including Neil Young's "One of These Days" and the Skeeter Davis hit "The End of the World."

On Forever's a Long, Long Time, Was sheds the self-conscious verbal pyrotechnics of his pop project Was (Not Was) for Williams's plainspoken sentiments and lack of irony. Williams writes about universal experiences -- heartbreak on "Never Again (Will I Knock on Your Door)" and premarital jitters on the title track -- with a directness and honesty that transcend genre. Taking his clue from Williams's universality, Was finds common bonds among jazz, country, soul, the blues, and hip-hop. You won't hear any pure country music except for "I'm So Tired of It All," the chilling final track sung by Merle Haggard.

For most of the album the focus remains on Williams's lyrics, the voices of singers Sweet Pea Atkinson and Portia Griffin, and the powerful dance grooves. On the title track, Atkinson sings with a revival-meeting intensity that makes the immensity of a lifetime commitment real and of intimidating proportions. And he connects across stylistic and racial differences to bring the sorrow and courage of "Lost on the River" vividly to life.

Jazz is only one element among many, but it lifts this all-encompassing music to some of its highest heights. On "I Ain't Got Nothing But Time," Hancock's dancing solo works with the groove but also teases it with contrary rhythms, telling his own story, adding to the music's dramatic richness. Blanchard feints and weaves through the thicket of percussion and Hancock's chords, likewise conveying a genuine jazz sensibility in deference to the music's contemporary feel. Listening to Orquestra Was juggle so many elements so well, you start to think maybe Miles Davis had the right idea in the '80s; he just had the wrong producer.

Unlike Was, guitarist Frisell is clearly drawn to the actual sound of country music. The slow drawl of the slide guitar, the metallic twang of the dobro, and the bright, brittle energy of the mandolin all have contributed to his music in the past. Generally he makes no more than a glancing reference to them, and they melt away as he moves on to some other sly bit of sonic arcana. But on Nashville, the country and bluegrass influences are main attractions. It plays like The Far Side meets Bill Monroe.

Joined by mandolin player Adam Steffey and banjo picker Ron Block from Alison Krauss's Union Station, Alison's brother (and Lyle Lovett bassist) Viktor Krauss, dobro master Jerry Douglas, and singer Robin Holcomb, Frisell taps the sound and feel of country music without forsaking his trademark deadpan irony, playful wit, and ambiguity. The best tracks are the slightly warped ones that stretch but don't harm the genre. "Mr. Memory" develops into a collective improvisation that blurs accompaniment and solo into a pinwheeling mix of mandolin riffs, guitar strums, and bull-roarer slides on the bass. "Pipe Down" is an acoustic funk-bluegrass ramble on which Frisell carefully colors and shapes each note as he solos over some complex banjo picking.

Frisell has written some of his most sweetly nostalgic melodies for this album. But even on pretty tunes like "Keep Your Eyes Open," "Dogwood Acres," and "Shucks," he injects spacy dissonances and subversive asides that undermine convention. Nashville may be only a footnote in his career, but it's an exceptionally lovely one, and more than a mere curiosity.

The coincidental appearance of these two albums within a month of each other probably doesn't indicate anything like a new trend in country-jazz fusion. Still, they show how boundaries have loosened over the past two decades, leaving musicians freer than ever to use whatever resources they need to express themselves.