Richter 858 [Pure DSD]

Restlessly creative guitarist Bill Frisell leads a hybrid string ensemble with noted improvisers Hank Roberts, Jenny Scheinman, and Eyvind Kang, in pieces inspired by the paintings of Gerhard Richter.

After a minute or so of uncompromising free-form cacophony that will potentially alienate many listeners, the album's opening piece "858-1" develops into a hauntingly mournful melody, as beautiful as anything Frisell has written. The piece also establishes the overall modus operandi, with collective playing dominant and very little space available for individual solo voices; Frisell himself rarely takes the spotlight apart from an occasional attention-grabbing electronic intrusion. (...) For fans of Frisell's post-Nashville, cosy, countrified music, this album will feel like jumping naked into icy water - not comfortable, but very exhilarating...and maybe not to be repeated too often. Older fans will be gratified that Frisell still has his cutting edge when needed; he's as sharp as ever.

Since art is, of course, a subjective thing, you may or may not feel that the music directly relates to the paintings, but there's no denying that this is a fascinating project. The majority of the songs are built on simple repeated figures, and the players all seem free to embellish and improvise on top of that. Frisell's delays play a major role in this music (Breskin points out that Richter's technique of applying a squeegee to wet oil paint is analogous to Frisell "smearing" notes by manipulating his delay), and the way he uses the delayed guitar signal to complement, and in some cases mimic, the strings is quite amazing (remember, this was done live with no editing). It's been years since Frisell has made such extensive use of the delay, but he's still an absolute master. There is also a minimalist quality to the pieces, but the interplay between guitar, delay and strings keeps them from becoming static. Most of this album is quite serene and beautiful, although there are a couple of hairier moments.

Jazz guitarist Bill Frisell pushes the limits of jazz, forcing music into areas previously unexplored. Thus, he also requires that his listeners push their musical horizons. In Richter 858 he uses as his musical muse eight oil-on-aluminum abstract paintings by Gerhard Richter -- reproductions of which can be found in the excellent liner notes and on the enhanced CD layer.

Backed by the violin, viola, and cello of Jenny Scheinman, Eyvind Kang, and Hank Roberts respectively, Frisell’s guitar, through his electronic manipulations, weaves eight interesting and thought-provoking sonic vistas. This is not easy listening. It requires time to absorb the result of Frisell’s impressions, time to digest his art -- for that is what this album is: musical art. I was struck by the times the music and art meshed, as well as moments when they did not, or didn’t seem to.

Thanks to an excellent sonic transfer of the original stereo analog tapes, you will hear every nuance, bow stroke, strum or pluck.

The opening minutes of "858-1" are as aggressive, angular, and abstruse as recent efforts including Blues Dream and Unspeakable have been easy on the ears. If, indeed, there's any precedence in Frisell's compositions here, it's with the more adventurous music of This Land and Before We Were Born —inescapably daring, yet with an indefinable American, if not Americana, complexion. One element that is a continuation of Frisell's more recent work is his approach to improvisation, which leans more to the collective and less on the individual. And the lines between structure and soloing are inevitably blurred. "858-5" may revolve around a repeated rhythmic motif from all players, but everyone seems to have their moment(s) of extemporization, although it is often difficult to figure out how they determine who will carry the form and who will become more exploratory. "858-6" bears the ethereal microtonal ambience of Gyorgy Ligeti's work, while "858-4," the longest of the eight pieces, begins as an atmospheric tone poem, ultimately evolving into a cello ostinato that allows Kang and Scheinman more breathing space while Frisell applies colours with his sundry electronic devices.