Testament Speaks Volumes
Keith Jarrett's Fascinating New Solo Recordings
The latest installment in Keith Jarrett’s unparalleled series of improvised solo piano live recordings, Testament: Paris/London, is fascinating on three complex levels, in addition to simply being a shot of joy for longtime fans who have followed every twist and turn of his rigorously developed career (there’s far more to life, so to speak, than the ultra-famous 1975 The Koln Concert), as well as for more recent converts to Jarrett’s musical world.
Contrast Over Preference
First, it provides further evidence, after his last two solo recordings, the 2006 The Carnegie Hall Concert, and the 2005 Radiance, that there’s a clear purpose behind his decision to abandon epic, 45-minute-long improvisations (two a concert) for shorter ones (as many as 12 a concert) that generally alternate between nods to various forms of jazz or atonal modern classical music, and pure tonal lyricism. Such a contrast naturally leads some listeners to “prefer” one over the other, but it’s the dynamic between the two that makes Jarrett’s latest approach to his solo concerts soar.
Particularly in this new recording, when Jarrett proceeds from atonality to tonality after a pause for applause and a pregnant silence, the lyricism virtually explodes from the piano, in a way that it certainly wouldn’t if not preceded by something akin to its opposite. Part three of the Paris concert, and part eight of the London concert are, in fact, two of the most gorgeous concoctions Jarrett has ever produced, and when they’re over, the concept of lyricism itself feels complete, and the time feels ripe to go on to another plane of sound. One is reminded of Miles Davis’s famous response when an interviewer asked him why he didn’t play ballads anymore: “Because I love them so much.”
The atonality (or what Igor Stravinsky called “anti-tonality” in the sense that a composer can break out of an established pattern and create a new one) also forms a fruitful contrast with the lyrical pieces, and asserts its own brand of beauty. Part five of the Paris concert, for instance, feels like an intricate dismantling of part three, like someone gathering their emotions rather than pouring them out.
Jarrett has made wonderfully clear in this recording, as he did in The Carnegie Hall Concert, that there’s a link between modern jazz and modern classical music (Charlie Parker’s favorite composer was Stravinsky). In Jarrett’s hands, one form seems to explode out of the other, so that they no longer as if lie side by side like separate entities with separate fan bases.
Never Stop Growing
Second, this new recording, even more so than The Carnegie Hall Concert and Radiance, demonstrates that Jarrett, a child prodigy who, before age 35, had already produced several legendary jazz and solo piano records, has not stopped learning how to play even better, and express himself through music even more authentically and powerfully.
The gospel-tinged final part of the London concert, for instance, comes across as the furthest thing from an exercise, and the closest thing to tapping into an original source after the long accumulation of experience and layers of technique. But all this doesn’t mean that Jarrett has, in effect, left his past in the dust. Like all good artists, his developments are eminently noticeable and potent and yet don’t in any way overshadow past achievements.
When it comes to Jarrett’s remarkable jazz trio with Gary Peacock and Jack DeJohnette, their playing and dynamic and willingness to experiment has gotten stronger and stronger over the past 10 years and yet their recordings from the 1980s, such as Still Live, have a wonderful quality all their own, and the 6-CD set recorded in 1994, At the Blue Note, is still remarkable. And going back to Jarrett’s solo recordings, two from the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, Vienna Concert and La Scala, are like particular kind of summits that remain unsurpassed, even though Jarrett has gone on to newer and brighter challenges.
The Life of the Music
Lastly, the liner notes for Testament: Paris/London offer a candid glimpse into Jarrett’s personal life, linking these concerts to a tumultuous time in his life last year after the breakup of his marriage. While it’s wonderful and in some way crucial for listeners to directly absorb the fact that music is a healing force in Jarrett’s life, as it’s abundantly clear form the notes that it is, getting the “story” behind the concerts threatens to make the music into program music, as if every note has a particular kind of emotional weight behind it. But, thanks to Jarrett’s power as a musician, the music transcends any boundaries.
It’s not about Jarrett’s life. It’s about life.
Keith Jarrett At the Piano
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