BIRTHDAY BLUES (IN A GOOD WAY)

That 3LP Keith Jarrett 'Concerts' box set I mentioned acquiring from Trading Post a few DR posts ago was played first thing this morning. I had been saving it for my birthday which falls today, the 14th March.

Playing Part 1 (21:54), performed in Bregenz, 1981, memories came instantly flooding back to me of sharing a portable disc player with my friend, Gorodish, whilst visiting Paris for the first time. With no dual headphone splitter we took it in turn to take in the city sights whilst playing Keith Jarrett's 'Concerts' as the soundtrack to the movie of our lives. I can already hear those naysayers tutting at us for not living fully in the moment by curating our own music whilst touristing Paris, but I feel quite the opposite about it. For me, we were simply enhancing the joy of the moment by adding to it music that would be worthy of angels should they have acquired some shabby clothes and shlepped around the city of lovers in a cinematic mood - our very own French version of 'Wings Of Desire' you might say.

This whole thing about travelling through time with music fascinates me. What stragglers are left on the wayside as we grow older and who remains ever present and steadfast like a loyal squire? It seems to me there is the music that stays fixed in the time we first enjoyed it but remains mostly a nostalgic novelty afterwards, nothing more. Other music, however, remains like great friends who grow old with you and provide timeless strength, courage and reflection for the soul. 'Concerts' is one such example for me. Playing it this morning I was reminded of what a supreme genius Keith Jarrett is and how he will surely be remembered as one of the most important musicians of the 20th Century, if not of all time. Hyperbole you might say, but I am in no doubt. The music sounds as fresh today as it did on my first trip to Paris, perhaps even more so. The idea that these Everests of piano solos are all improvised still blows my mind - there are Bach-like classical structures that emerge out of uncertain chaos and a hybrid of American folk, jazz and blues, all combined in an almost supernatural seance of musical idioms from centuries past.

If stream of consciousness needed to be advocated as the ultimate approach to delivering art in its purest form then Keith Jarrett would surely be exhibit A or exhibit 'Aaaahhhhhh' (expressed in that inimitable groan/wail that KJ so famously and controversially vocalises whilst performing, just like the music equivalent of Maria Sharapova or Marcel Granollers).

Now I'm wondering how good a tennis player Keith Jarrett might have been if he'd chosen sport over piano and what would be the effect if the balls were hit as notes each time the racket struck them.

Hmmm, when you think about it, pianos and tennis rackets are both tightly strung.

Okay, this improvisation/stream of consciousness thing isn't as easy as it looks. Another reason why Keith is the greatest. We'll never be sure what is a mistake and what isn't, the mark of a true genius.