We debated over which is the greatest Jarrett recording. I made the mistake of talking to the man next to me in the drinks line, who turned out to be many things: intoxicated, the self-professed owner of more Keith Jarrett recordings than anyone else on earth, and much too willing to give me a hug. But to my mind, they never quite got going far enough before they ended.Īfter about forty five minutes he broke for intermission. I wished those sections would have lasted longer. You can’t tell this from his recording, but Keith not only grunts and hums when he plays but he stands, sways, dances and practically tap danced at one point during this performance. In short, piano music you can dance to! There were about four of five of these this evening, one I liked very much and would have liked to hear more of. One of the things I love most about his music is his use of unusual rhythms and especially percussive bass lines. I could be wrong, but I don’t think Keith played anything tonight that was more than six minutes long. I think also it might be due to the fact that at this point some audiences like Carnegie Hall became so enthusiastic they start to applaud at what might only have been a hesitation rather than an ending. Keith has spoken about how his late career bout with chronic fatigue syndrome let to his making shorter pieces, rather than the 10, 20, 30 minute improvs of his earlier career. I like a melody line I can follow-and when there were melody lines in these pieces, they never went there you thought they were going to go.Īnd then just when you thought you might be figuring it out, they’d be over. These were abstract pieces, the ones in which I have a hard time discerning structure. ![]() I would call it classic late Jarrett.īy that I mean pieces on which it’s harder, at least for me, to get a grip, rather than the longer and to my mind more structured performances of his early career, where (at least after several listenings) you can make out themes emerging and recurring over the course of the evening. Then he sat down at the Steinway and set the tone for the evening-minor key, dissonant, and melancholy. It included a comment on the times we live in, and if it’s possible to summarize it, let me say he invoked Thomas Pynchon and reminded us that economic bailouts mean nothing if we lose sight of what’s really important in life. The first thing he did was address us, the audience, in a short speech that was both obscure and profound. Just that, plus the man I have quietly loved for nearly thirty years but had never before seen in person.Īt about quarter after, he appeared: a slight and unassuming figure, hair now short and gray, dressed all in black with a gold vest. ![]() Just the sight of that sleek black Steinway D, waiting alone on stage in the spotlight, was so eloquent I had to take a few minutes to compose myself before taking my seat.
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