Every move counts

That was good. How was that so good.

It was just Bill Frisell, Eyvind Kang, and a drummer named Rudy Royston having fun. They played a rock number, they played something from Mali (which I can’t point my finger to, though I have that song somewhere), they even played a jump tune where Frisell suddenly remembered a whole book of Charlie Christian licks. It didn’t come across as that eclectic, though. Partly that’s the very naked instrumentation, I guess, noone had a place to hide and everybody made every move count. Then it was the soundworld. Frisell can sometimes sound a little pat to these ears, here he had fun and really stepped on his pedals. Kang had pedals to match. Royston’s drumming was an invitation to freedom, he kept everything going whether anyone did anything or not.

I guess I fail here. On paper it doesn’t look that good. They had fun and they let their hair hang loose and that’s why it was pretty killer.

Only the second encore, when they played a country ditty with a sense of humor, confirmed to what you might suspect when you read this. Fact stays, this was a really great show.