If asked what the best guitar album of all time would be, my first response would be: “are you kidding me?! ‘Greatest of all time’ is an impossible qualification to grant anything, let alone recorded music – a medium that has existed for less than 150 years, compared to the millennia in which music has been performed in various forms on stringed and fretted instruments that are considered ancestors of the modern guitar!” Then, after a rousing series of applause from the imaginary crowd of pseudo-musicologists standing around me, I would give my honest answer: Good Dog Happy Man by the incomparable Bill Frisell. With little doubt, I can say that this album comprehensively and persuasively showcases everything beautiful about the guitar. Further than that, I would say that Bill Frisell himself serves as one of the greatest ambassadors for the instrument that I have ever witnessed. Listening to and watching him play is like witnessing a conversation between guitarist and guitar. I said a similar thing when I wrote about Julian Lage. Both musicians serve as great examples of the interaction between musical intent from within an artist and musical actualisation imposed by the limitations and offers of the instrument. That might sound a little washy but just listen to this album and tell me I’m wrong.
The reason why this might be one of the best “guitar” albums of all time (or indeed the best) is that it celebrates the aspects of the instrument that make it unique and characterful. Take a track like Shenandoah, in which the acoustic guitar takes the melody and the electric spaciously supports (something of a reversal of norms). The forwardness of the acoustic enables Frisell to explore the timbral and dynamic variety of the acoustic, digging in with his plectrum at times and pulling back when needed. Not only does this serve the emotive arc of the arrangement but it demonstrates the range of the guitar in its original, mechanical, acoustic form. The choice of tune here, and throughout the album with tracks like Good Dog, Happy Man, further exemplifies Frisell’s expression of love for the guitar in its various forms. It allows the dynamic duality of the guitar to shine through. When played quietly, it sounds close and intimate, yet there are times when the arrangement expands and the guitar has to compete with the organ or lap steel; at these times, the guitar couldn’t feel further away, as if it’s shouting the tune from across a valley.
The relationship between instruments is particularly interesting, especially when considering the interaction between electronic and acoustic. Something that Frisell is well-known for is his use of looping and effects with the guitar. At times, his fascination with nostalgic equipment risks dating his music. However, if I thought this was truly the case then I wouldn’t have started this article with such a bold statement in support of its timelessness. Frisell uses it inventively, intentionally and often subtly. The Pioneers is a great example of this subtlety. It opens with what sounds like a reverse loop – something that has becoming an iconic feature of his sound and which I think is currently (at the time of this writing) achieved through a Line6 DL4. Tell me in the comments if I’m wrong.
Fundamentally, what makes this album so great is the feeling of sincerity and the embrace of variety. It doesn’t feel like it fits into one genre. It’s somewhere between americana, jazz, folk, surf, and blues… I guess. At its core it is a “guitar album”. If you are looking for a great album that hooks you up with a healthy dose of guitar, at times happily holding a vamp, yet mostly providing soulful homely melodies, then Good Dog, Happy Man has to be your next listen.
Waxing Lyrical 