The Köln Concert

by Keith Jarrett

Can you think of any jazz album that has not one but two films dedicated to it? I can’t either. Unless it’s The Köln Concert, that is.

Köln 75 is a German drama focused on Vera Brandes, a (then 18-year-old) German producer who was responsible for the concert taking place at all. The film was actually shown in mainstream Spanish theatres, sometime in July, but it passed me by. Damn.

And Köln Tracks, aka Lost in Köln, is a French documentary tracking (or losing?) that notorious Bösendorfer piano played and hated by Mr Jarrett on 24 January 1975. It is supposed to be released about now.

So these are tributes that I didn’t see. What about The Köln Concert itself? I discovered it about 30 years ago, thanks to The Penguin Guide to Jazz which I used to borrow from the Leeds Central Library on a regular basis. The Guide gave the album four stars of four and said ^*:

This is perhaps Jarrett’s best and certainly his most popular record. ECM has been dining out or, to be fairer, recording others on the proceeds for over a decade^†. Made in conditions of exceptional difficulty — not least an audibly unsatisfactory piano — Jarrett not for the first time makes a vurtue of adversity, carving out huge slabs of music with a rare intensity. His insturment does sound off-puttingly bad-tempered, but his concentration on the middle register throughout the performance has been a characteristic of his work throughout his carreer.

Armed with this knowledge, I embarked on a search — and found the CD in the very same library. The concert didn’t disappoint. And the piano didn’t sound half that bad. Some years later, I bought my own copy directly from ECM, further contributing to the album’s bestselling status.

It so happened that on the 50^th anniversary of the concert, Friday 24 January, I was listening to the Sólo Jazz programme of Spanish Radio Clásica. Curiously, the authors of this golden jubilee programme chose to play the concert in the following order: Part II c; Part I; Part II b. The result? I heard the old concert with new ears, and it was as beautiful.

I can understand why Jarrett himself is not a fan: a true artist rightfully refuses to be defined by a half-century-old LP as if he didn’t record anything decent since. But I am not Keith Jarrett. I love this “huge slab of music”. If the author wants to disown it, let him do it. I’d put it on the next Voyager Golden Record as an example of what an (anonymous) human musician can do.

*	Cook, R. and Morton, B. The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, LP and Cassette, 2nd Ed. Penguin Books, London, 1994, p. 682.
†	In later editions, “for over a decade” was changed to “for two decades”; see e.g. The Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings, 8th Ed. Penguin Books, London, 2006, p. 697.

Certain Women

a film by Kelly Reichardt

Of all American movies I’ve seen, Certain Women, so far the most successful film of the “neo-neorealist” director Kelly Reichardt, is probably the most un-American. For all I know, if not for the snow-mountains in the background — nice landscape but not exactly what I’d call breathtaking — it could have been Finnish, as the four female leads are all fine with not saying much.

The three plot lines are based on three short stories by Maile Meloy; their intersections seem rather artificial and unnecessary. The first story, starring Laura Dern as Laura, has the most action and most dialogue, some of it rather funny. The second part, featuring Michelle Williams, is a bit pointless. And the last one is a beauty. It could — I’d say it should — have been made into a short-ish feature on its own. Lily Gladstone shines as the ranch hand Jamie. The final dialogue between Jamie and Beth (Kristen Stewart) in Livingston (according to Google Maps, 130 miles, slightly over two hours drive — not four hours! — from Belfry) is as masterfully understated as it is heartbreaking.

This film was shown as a part of Ciclo de cine Semana de la Mujer organised by Centro de Arte La Regenta (calle León y Castillo, 427).

Hrútar

a film by Grímur Hákonarson

I’ve never been to Iceland. And I still would love to visit this strange country. I can’t say that this film exactly inspire to do so. Iceland according to Rams must be the bleakest, the coldest, the most depressing place on earth. And that is before the scrapie epidemic strikes.

There are a few scenes one can describe as comic but this is not a comedy by any stretch, not even a tragicomedy. It is just an understatedly beautiful film. The interplay of two male leads, Sigurður Sigurjónsson and Theódór Júlíusson (in real life, they aren’t brothers but they look as if they are), is something you won’t see in Hollywood movies. And the minimalist score by Atli Örvarsson more than compensates for the lack of that Icelandic scenery I heard so much about.

The Carnegie Hall Concert

by Keith Jarrett

I bought this two-CD set on sale the other week. Just another Keith Jarrett album for my collection, you understand. You don’t see a lot of Keith Jarretts on sale. True, some of his albums are disappointing. So what? Being as prolific as Jarrett is, the man is surely allowed to record a weak album now and then, and who can blame him? I certainly did not expect another Köln Concert, and The Köln Concert it ain’t. It is something completely different, and yet unmistakeably Jarrett. I don’t think it would be a blasphemy to say that The Carnegie Hall Concert is almost as great as that 30-year older masterpiece. Why “almost”? Let me explain.

I understand that ECM released the concert exactly as it was played in Carnegie Hall on 26 September 2005, taking care to present the first half of the concert on disc one and what followed after the interval, that is, the second half plus five encores, on disc two. (That explains why the second CD is more than twice as long as the first one.) Which is fair enough, but sometimes less is more; of all record companies, ECM should know that better. On this occasion, Part I, Part IV and Part VI are amorphous, tuneless free-jazz exercises which I can happily live without. On the other hand, my favourite tracks are Part III, Part VII and Paint My Heart Red. You see, I am cherry-picking here. I wouldn’t dare to do that with The Köln Concert, which is pretty much indivisible, like an atom.

Isla

by Portico Quartet

I know there are many hot new jazz bands, however Portico Quartet is not one of them. On the contrary, it is super cool. This is the best modern jazz outfit that emerged on these shores in the last decade. (I can’t believe I missed them in Cambridge last year, and a year before that.) Come to think of it, not only on these shores. And these are guys still in their twenties! Their sound is reminiscent of best ECM artists — think of Jan Garbarek jamming with Oregon — yet highly original. I hope Portico Quartet will play their magical music for many years to come, and they will grow even better. But for now, I can’t call the band’s second album, Isla, anything but a masterpiece. Listen, and get an album for yourself, and another for your best friend. (The vinyl is available too.)