Keith Jarrett Review

Well, it appears that another of my masterfully written articles failed to make the cut for the Northern Star website. I wrote a review of the new Keith Jarrett trio release, "My Foolish Heart: Live at Montreux."
Though it was published in the paper, it never made it to the website, so I'm offering curious readers my original, unedited version of the review RIGHT HERE ON MY BLOG! That's right, you get all of the insightful musical commentary without any of the bone-headed editing that my poor, precious articles undergo on the newsroom floor.

So, here it is:

In an era of Disney Channel pop stars, over-hyped indie bands, and jazz gimmickry, it’s an unqualified pleasure to hear one of jazz’s most enduring ensembles play for a live audience.

Pianist Jarrett, bassist Gary Peacock and drummer Jack DeJohnette have recorded almost twenty albums as a group. Nick-named the “Standards Trio” because of their selection of well-known jazz standards as repertoire, they also serve as the gold standard of what a modern jazz group should be.

The trio’s new release, “My Foolish Heart: Live at Montreux,” is a live recording from the Montreux Jazz Festival in 2001. Jarrett says in the liner notes that he was waiting until the right moment to release the recording the public.

He offers this as a rationale for doing so: “This, indeed, was a concert containing so much of the breadth of what we have been doing with “Standards” these almost 25 years, that now is the time to hear it.”

Whether or not that’s sufficient rationale for waiting so long to release the record is debatable; what isn’t debatable is his reference to the “breadth” of the recording. On “My Foolish Heart,” the three old friends seamlessly maneuver between straight-ahead jazz, free improvisation, lush, romantic balladry, and, for the first and only time in concert, three ragtime tunes.

What’s amazing about the almost two-hour-long recording is that all of the above sounds like it belongs. The ragtime tunes, “Ain’t Misbehavin’,” “Honeysuckle Rose,” and “You Took Advantage of Me,” are performed with the same earnestness as any other piece on the program, despite the rare straightforwardness of their delivery.

Thelonious Monk’s perennial blues head “Straight, No Chaser,” serves as the off-ramp from ragtime-land, and also as a sort of depository for the wild improvisation that would have sounded pretentious in the ragtime tunes.

The blues are always a sort of a home base for jazz musicians, and on this concert, “Straight, No Chaser,” sees the trio’s most freewheeling and highly intuitive playing.

On the blues the trio rarely defines a steady beat, and at times dips into completely free improvisation. But, much as the straightforward ragtime tunes don’t sound out of place in this modern jazz set, the impulsive improvisation on the blues sounds perfectly accessible and appropriate. Throughout the tune, the 12-bar blues form is hinted at, but rarely marked out very clearly.

Just as Jarrett is unafraid to explore different styles and moods, he and his comrades are unafraid to play alternately simple or complex ideas over the tunes of their choice.

In fact, he decries the “empty virtuosity” of today’s jazz artists in his liner-note exposé. Many times an idea of his will come to its logical conclusion, and, unafraid of leaving space, he will lay out for a measure or two before another idea presents itself, often filling the void with one of his trademark groans.

A player of unmatched technical skill and repertorial diversity (he has an extensive catalog of classical recordings to his name), Jarrett unabashedly recites the simplest blues licks and quotes old bebop tunes between unparalleled flights of technical prowess.

DeJohnette likewise exhibits equal propensity for simple and complex improvisation, choosing the former during his eight bar solos on “Honeysuckle Rose,” where he plays New Orleans parade-style snare beats and even offers an homage to Gene Krupa, pounding out swinging rhythms on his many floor toms.

Less in the spotlight in this concert is bassist Gary Peacock, who does a superb job of accompanying his band mates but opts to stay out of the spotlight. On the 6-and-a-half minute version of “Oleo,” the bassist only solos for a total of 40 bars.

It doesn’t matter, though. Just like Jarrett and DeJohnette, Peacock is always humble and willing to play just what the music calls for, whether it be an old ballad, an up-tempo burner, or a traditional Fats Waller tune.

What really matters is that they play it all with the collective knowledge of three of jazz history’s greatest players, and it all sounds good.