Recorded by this quartet to celebrate drummer
Paul Motian's 80th birthday,
The Windmills of Your Mind is a collection of jazz and pop standards played by a stellar quartet that includes guitarist
Bill Frisell, vocalist
Petra Haden, and bassist
Thomas Morgan. It mirrors, in an indirect manner, some of
Motian's On Broadway releases (
Morgan appeared on the fifth volume and
Frisell on the first three), as well as the all-but-ignored duet album Petra Haden & Bill Frisell, from 2003. While this is
Motian's date, it is
Frisell who keeps these skeletal arrangements together. One gravitates naturally to his instrument's lyricism as it introduces each tune as if it were a human voice. When
Haden enters, it's almost as if she duets with
Frisell. This doesn't take anything away from
Motian or
Morgan. Even at his advanced age, the drummer is a consummate dancer, his touch erudite and certain, yet so artful and airy it sets these rather straight re-readings just "off" enough to open them up musically. Take the mysterious intro to the title track, introduced by his brushed snare and hi-hat.
Frisell hints at the melody, posing it as a question to
Haden, who states the lyric sweetly and plaintively, yet
Motian's movement unlatches the door at the ends of each of her lines.
Haden introduces "I Loves You Porgy," as a nearly pastoral love song.
Frisell follows suit, highlighting her vocal with shimmering chord voicings and just enough reverb to create space. While
Morgan's bassline stays close to the changes, it's
Motian's accents, feints, and stutter-stops that hint there is a darker drama afoot. Only
Frisell's guitar keeps the tune from moving somewhere else.
Johnny Mercer's "I Remember You" begins almost haltingly with the trio finding a common space to insinuate rather than state the melody. When
Haden begins singing,
Morgan finds it first, while
Motian skates around it deftly, creating movement inside
Frisell's restraint. The singer is allowed to imbue the lyric with shades of meaning that not only evoke memory, but also a present-tense, nearly wistful longing. There are some lovely instrumental interludes inside its nearly six-minute length, that evidence the close listening of all participants at work on this lovely recording. ~ Thom Jurek