The Positive Force of Music
A recent concert experience, like many others we’ve shared in the past year, kept my teenage son and I closely connected.
“Well, I got this guitar and I’ve learned how to make it talk” — Bruce Springsteen, Thunder Road.
Since my then 12-year-old son turned me into a concert goer 12 months ago, we’ve heard a lot of guitars talk, and a few even sing; including six strings in the hands of the Boss himself. We’ve also listened to a piano, at the fingertips of Billy Joel, sound like a carnival.
On a recent Saturday night, we experienced something more. We heard and watched two instruments carry on a conversation: a saxophone and guitar, bantering back and forth with playful notes and amusing chords.
We were in Fall River, an old mill town in southeastern Massachusetts, having driven there from our home just below Boston, about 45 minutes through steady rainfall. Guided by GPS to a waterfront block of brick factory buildings once owned by the American Printing Company, an early-20th Century textile giant, we parked the car and hurried across cobblestones, down an alleyway to the entrance of the three-story home of the Narrows Center for the Arts.
Encountering a lobby crammed with early arrivals, we joined about a dozen others outside, thankfully under cover of an awning. Admission was still a few minutes away.
My son, now 13, was by far the youngest among the handful of patrons not yet old enough to approach the middle-aged median of the crowd. He usually is, as a kid possessing his old man’s musical sensibilities.
At his age, I never went to concerts. Nor did I get to many for decades thereafter, until, at his urging, we saw our first show together in March of 2023. We’ve since been to arenas, auditoriums and theaters much larger than this one, along with venues much smaller. All for live music. Always with an eye out for the next tour stop or one night stand nearby.
We’ve marveled among the masses at icons like Springsteen and Joel. Bob Dylan, too. We’ve admired prog-rock paragons like Yes guitarist Steve Howe, skinny as a steel string, still picking ‘Roundabout’ at age 74, and towering King Crimson bassist Tony Levin, 77, high-stepping on stage with Peter Gabriel. We’ve also been equally entertained by jazz ensembles at our local library and chamber musicians in a hotel ballroom.
The music and musicianship are our main attractions. In Fall River, the draw was a musician’s musician, Americana and jazz legend Bill Frisell and the tandem completing his trio.
We were let in at 7 p.m. sharp and led up a winder staircase to the third floor; through a gallery and into a dark room; where a crescent arrangement of tables, banquet chairs and pews faced a small stage. Shortly after 8 o’clock, with little introduction, Frisell took the stage between reedman Gregory Tardy and drummer Rudy Royston, jazz exemplars in their own right.
A good half hour of unrelenting harmony in, Royston downshifted the beat to a soft bed of ‘rat-a-tat.’ Tardy then breathed into his brass and Frisell fingered his fretboard in witty repartee. A toot here, followed by a pluck there. The soulful, civil discourse of notes and counter notes went on for a minute or so. It was pure fun while it lasted. And nobody seemed to enjoy it more than the men behind the instruments.
Beyond their joy was connectivity. Artist to instrument. Artist to artist. Resultantly, artists to audience.
The rest of the trio’s hour-plus performance was no different. During Royston’s intense solos, the tilt of Tardy’s head, his right hand covering his mouthpiece, and the smile Frisell wore, swaying gently side to side, spoke volumes as their instruments rested silently. Both appeared rapt.
Thinking about what I sensed coming from that stage, something transcending ordinary interaction, and after I began writing about it, I wondered: did I really see what I believed I saw? Seeking clarification on-line, I came across confirmation.
As early as 1998, when The New York Times published a piece headlined, “Bill Frisell Lets the Human Spirit Do the Work,” the guitarist talked about musical conversations, referring to specific “unison melodies” with British reedman John Surman. More recently, last March, Frisell expounded on the oneness collaborators can achieve to Canadian journalist Michael Barclay of The Globe and Mail.
“There’s no doubt in my mind that music is such a strong, positive force,” Frisell said. “All the things that are in music: there’s tension, release, collaboration, you’re listening — listening is the main thing, and figuring out how to make harmony with each other. It sets up the whole model for how human beings can get along.”
After seeing and hearing it for ourselves, we rode home in what deteriorated into a heavy downpour. Wind, like the rain, also picked up, leaving me white-knuckled at the wheel. My son controlled the playlist and though a classic rocker on most of our rides, he, accordingly, put jazz on instead.
The music helped release some of the tension in my grip and set the tone for our usual post-show debrief. It’s one of our ways to, as Frisell puts it, make harmony with each other.
Our concert experiences evolve from a shared excitement and anticipation. How will our seats be? What songs will make the set list? Where do we eat beforehand? For bigger acts on tour, we’re likely to discuss reviews from prior stops, band anthologies and bandmate biographies.
That’s where the kid’s expertise comes in. Wanna know who was whom in ‘The Who?’ Or ‘The Guess Who?’ Ask him, a bonafide music, history and music history buff; not me. In fact, he’s in the middle of reading a biography about Frisell right now.
When the lights come on — or are turned down, as they were for Frisell’s Trio — and the music starts, we’re all ears. Except when I pull my phone out for photos and videos, which I tend to do too often.
After the encore, when we’re clear of the exiting traffic and back on the road again, reliving the experience begins. And that’s what we did on our way home from Fall River. For my part, I mentioned the chemistry of Frisell, Tardy and Royston, noting how much they seemed to relish one another’s company.
Of course, I was also speaking about myself. And the company I kept.
By the time we reached our driveway, it was agreed upon: we should get ourselves to another Frisell concert, and get back to the Narrows sometime. If we were to put the whole experience into song, it would be a unison melody.
The next morning we were back in the car, headed to my son’s music lesson; he plays electric and bass. The drive, to and from, totaled an hour. Again as I drove; he deejayed.
On this ride he mixed in few changeups, playing hip hop along with his number-one, 70s rock. Its been a year since our mutual liking for the latter drew us closer despite decades-wide generational differences. More types of music, meaning more musicians and more to talk about, should only make us more connected going forward.
For sure, as Frisell says, music can be a strong, positive force.
Today I discovered there’s a free performance this weekend at a public library in a neighboring town. The guest artist is a classical guitarist.
We plan to be there, and I can’t wait to hear what the guitar has to say.
Bob Socci has been the play-by-play radio broadcaster for the New England Patriots since 2013. You can find some of his other work at www.bobsocci.com and www.985thesportshub.com.
