Sweet tunes, organic funkiness, and a general laconic grace keep the music rooted while searching.
What makes Good Dog, Happy Man (1999) work is Jim Keltner. The drummer doesn't overplay or rush—he sits back and lets space breathe, which on a Frisell record is exactly what you need. Keltner comes from a country and Americana background, and that sensibility is all over this album. He's not timekeeping in the bebop sense; he's listening, responding, giving the tunes room to unfold. That's the whole DNA of this record: jazz musicians playing like they grew up on front porch music and roadside bars.
Greg Leisz on steel guitar and Ry Cooder on slide add to that atmosphere—they're not jazz players trying on country, they're country players in a jazz setting, and the difference matters. Wayne Horvitz keeps things anchored on keyboards while Viktor Krauss grounds the low end with a bassist's precision. What JazzTimes captured in their review is that Frisell has found a voice here that doesn't choose between his jazz sensibilities and country accents; it just lets them sit together naturally. The production has electronic touches and some distance to it, which keeps this from sounding like nostalgia. It's contemporary without sounding slick.
This is Frisell's 11th for Elektra Nonesuch, and by this point he'd earned the freedom to follow his ear. It's not his most famous album, but it's one of his most generous—patient, unhurried, genuinely interested in how different musical languages can share a room without arguing.