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Tonight at the Keith Jarrett show (Carnegie Hall)

1.17.2011

This is Sachal's review of the January 16 2011 Keith Jarrett concert at Carnegie Hall.

Tonight I was fortunate to attend the Keith Jarrett solo concert at Carnegie Hall. As the concert progressed, I realized I was having a particularly emotional response - to the music alone- and would like to share it with you here. I say the music because most reviews that have come out since, like the New York Times article here, seem to reflect a consensus that the music was marred by Keith's erratic behavior. I disagree.

To start, I texted my mom before the concert began to tell her where I was. Here's the conversation:

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Me : I'm @ the best seat in carnegie for keith jarrett solo!! Will call after

Mom: Just so u know u 1st hrd keith in my tummy

Me: Haaaa!!!

Me: Love it

Mom: Keith influenced u live

before u knew jazz

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The concert, largely improvised pieces, was a truly exhilirating two+ hours, even more than I expected it to be.

Keith Jarrett presented a variety of tempos and texture, and has a sense of pace only outshined by the playing itself . A few times the songs were simple, plaintive tales that showcased his penchant for melody. I am always surprised at how diatonic these pieces tend to be. Other than Jarrett's own work, the only similar use of this palette I can think of might be some early 20^th century English songs, perhaps by Butterworth or Vaughan Williams. The attention to the shape and contour of the melody was exquisite.

I remember particularly the second piece he played because it was a roller coaster of sound. I noted two themes: ripples of sixteenth notes in both hands, and a lot of space. I couldn't recognize a distinct melody; it felt like rapidly changing shapes and colors. At times I suspected Keith was allowing the piano to own him, instead of the reverse, and was enjoying that freedom. It was thrilling for me too.

Jarrett used an octave bass line to set up the groove on a couple of different songs, a blues in the 1^st set and also Summertime during one of several encores. His grooves are so ridiculously strong that it was difficult for me to sit still at Carnegie. During the blues, he would spill out long, chromatic runs in the right hand, using the framework of the bebop language, but finding a number of fresh twists and turns. A couple of these brilliant solos had me clapping pretty loud.

One particular tune had an epic but staid quality- he utilized low octaves in his left hand and a melody with high registration, often only supported by thirds, with not much in the middle and little chromatic movement. Perhaps also because of the constant use of the pedal I was ultimately forced to envision a Chinese restaurant in the Smokey Mountains. My mind began to wander.

I found myself thinking back to Keith Jarrett's opening statement- on the microphone.

Jarrett had surprised me (and I think a lot of the audience) by speaking to the audience at the beginning of the concert. He had related an anecdote shared by poet Robert Bly, referring to the mythologist Joseph Campbell. The point of his story was that audiences cannot possibly know the full scope of the artist, his mind, and his work beyond what is documented.

Keith Jarrett wanted us to know at the moment before he began to play that “I am famous for not liking many things, but I love my audience”.

Now, as my mind was wandering, I was curious as to what else I didn't know about the artist- and what learning more might mean. Does Keith Jarrett laugh at 'Dick in a Box' ? Does he sing along? Does he ever feel like his hands cannot adequately express his soul? Does he curse regularly? How would he reflect on MLK tomorrow? How many dishes are lying dirty in his sink at home, right now? ...Mostly I am glad I do not fully 'know' an artist like Keith Jarrett. The artist, and therefore the performance, retains intrigue and mystery I cannot immediately understand.

Just then he played a few passing chromatic tones in the middle of the piano, and then silence, and I drew my attention back.

For the most part, Jarrett had an easy rapport with the crowd, which is saying a lot. He showed some humor and affability, at one point pretending to shut the piano as though done creating. He then sighed audibly, breathed in and began an exquisite ballad (built on a dominant in third inversion- one of my favorite voicings). This was one of the most profound moments in the whole concert, and I wanted to scream. Given the overwhelming crush of joy and pain he had released in just a handful of chords, I felt it an appropriate response.