KEITH JARRETT
Royal Festival Hall - 20th November 2015
Royal Festival Hall - 20th November 2015
‘You know,’ said Keith Jarrett, in an aside to the audience, ‘this is a really good piano’ before he proceeded to demonstrate the tonal beauty, the depth, the clarity of the instrument in a performance that captivated most of the audience at the sold out Royal Festival Hall.
Jarrett told us during the evening that he is the only one who plays this kind of concert: the creation of music out of nothing. Apparently Miles Davis could hardly believe that Jarrett could ‘play from nothing’.
Like Miles there is mystique. When you walk into the RFH the stage looks stark: the Steinway is in the centre, a microphone to the side for the occasional announcement. As the audience settles, ushers patrol the auditorium with cards reminding us that phones should be switched off, that recording is forbidden, cameras verboten. Two minutes before the start a Serious Productions person came out to emphasize to us that phones should be off and invited us all to a pre-concert cough to clear throats and chests. Apparently the music would be recorded. With the construction of the mystique over, Jarrett entered to enthusiastic applause, strode to the piano and played music that had never existed before.
Jazz, of course, is about improvisation and Jarrett takes it to the extremes: total extreme improvisation. This is a man who has recorded Bach, Mozart, Shostakovich, Arvo Part; recorded with Art Blakey, Miles Davis, Charles Lloyd, Dewey Redman. Jarrett reminded us that to play like this you had to have sixty seven years of playing the piano. You realise that all his musical life has lead up to this, that what he plays is a result of all those experiences. All we have to do is sit and listen. This is real fusion, a fusion of all those experiences: romantic Russian, pastiche of Abdullah Ibrahim, fugues, impressionistic Debussy like delicacy, rolling rumbustiously a la Jimmy Yancey, ostinatos, a touch of James P Johnson. Beautiful melodies appear drift away and fade. JS Bach for a moment appears with tight contrapuntal playing. In some pieces close to the blues he is almost lifted out of his seat in excitement. The rhythm makes him stomp his feet for emphasis. Sometimes he plays repeated phrases as if is seeking inspiration. When he finds it he races off to explore what he has discovered.
Always the mystery of improvisation is there; something out of nothing. Jarrett said, early in the second set, that he was perfectly happy with the first set, then admitted that if he had left it at that he would not have created the piece he had just played.
The man next to me was delighted when half way through the second set Jarrett walked off, angered by what he described as ‘fucking cameras’. He was prevailed upon to return and, when he did, went on to advise the photographer on concert etiquette explaining that in future they would be well advised to take images of empty concert halls. He then sat down and played a short, fast angry piece that seemed to disperse his tension.
At the end of the concert encores were demanded Jarrett joked that he had exhausted his repertoire! The music out of nothing was finished and he you played ‘Danny Boy’ the ceaseless Invention at an end.
How do you judge a Jarrett performance? The only comparison that you can make is with his other solo concerts. How does this compare with Köln or Sun Bear or Vienna or the concert at the Royal Festival Hall in 2008? Does the intensity decline? He is 70, is the music more
mature? How have the increasing experiences changed him? There are no long form improvisations now. His work is pithier leaving the audience to enjoy the unique melange of music that will never be repeated and may only ever be heard again in the vaults of ECM.
Reviewed by Jack Kenny
Jarrett told us during the evening that he is the only one who plays this kind of concert: the creation of music out of nothing. Apparently Miles Davis could hardly believe that Jarrett could ‘play from nothing’.
Like Miles there is mystique. When you walk into the RFH the stage looks stark: the Steinway is in the centre, a microphone to the side for the occasional announcement. As the audience settles, ushers patrol the auditorium with cards reminding us that phones should be switched off, that recording is forbidden, cameras verboten. Two minutes before the start a Serious Productions person came out to emphasize to us that phones should be off and invited us all to a pre-concert cough to clear throats and chests. Apparently the music would be recorded. With the construction of the mystique over, Jarrett entered to enthusiastic applause, strode to the piano and played music that had never existed before.
Jazz, of course, is about improvisation and Jarrett takes it to the extremes: total extreme improvisation. This is a man who has recorded Bach, Mozart, Shostakovich, Arvo Part; recorded with Art Blakey, Miles Davis, Charles Lloyd, Dewey Redman. Jarrett reminded us that to play like this you had to have sixty seven years of playing the piano. You realise that all his musical life has lead up to this, that what he plays is a result of all those experiences. All we have to do is sit and listen. This is real fusion, a fusion of all those experiences: romantic Russian, pastiche of Abdullah Ibrahim, fugues, impressionistic Debussy like delicacy, rolling rumbustiously a la Jimmy Yancey, ostinatos, a touch of James P Johnson. Beautiful melodies appear drift away and fade. JS Bach for a moment appears with tight contrapuntal playing. In some pieces close to the blues he is almost lifted out of his seat in excitement. The rhythm makes him stomp his feet for emphasis. Sometimes he plays repeated phrases as if is seeking inspiration. When he finds it he races off to explore what he has discovered.
Always the mystery of improvisation is there; something out of nothing. Jarrett said, early in the second set, that he was perfectly happy with the first set, then admitted that if he had left it at that he would not have created the piece he had just played.
The man next to me was delighted when half way through the second set Jarrett walked off, angered by what he described as ‘fucking cameras’. He was prevailed upon to return and, when he did, went on to advise the photographer on concert etiquette explaining that in future they would be well advised to take images of empty concert halls. He then sat down and played a short, fast angry piece that seemed to disperse his tension.
At the end of the concert encores were demanded Jarrett joked that he had exhausted his repertoire! The music out of nothing was finished and he you played ‘Danny Boy’ the ceaseless Invention at an end.
How do you judge a Jarrett performance? The only comparison that you can make is with his other solo concerts. How does this compare with Köln or Sun Bear or Vienna or the concert at the Royal Festival Hall in 2008? Does the intensity decline? He is 70, is the music more
mature? How have the increasing experiences changed him? There are no long form improvisations now. His work is pithier leaving the audience to enjoy the unique melange of music that will never be repeated and may only ever be heard again in the vaults of ECM.
Reviewed by Jack Kenny
