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Including Keith Jarrett on piano and various instruments, Dewey Redman on sax and sundry wind axes, Charlie Haden on bass, and Paul Motian on drums. A lot of Jarrett’s compositions for the team had a funky sort of soul/gospel flavor, and the quartet also carried the influence of Ornette Coleman in their freer improvisations. That’s not surprising, considering that Redman and Haden were ex-Ornette employees, and that Jarrett was rather free-minded at the piano anyway. (And on soprano sax, his second instrument at the time.) They also explored ethnic sounds and retained a “natural” jazz ethos rather than joining the electric fusion styles of their day. In fact, when certain critics talk about how true jazz was on hiatus during the 1970s, Jarrett’s American quartet is the first thing that comes to my mind as contrary evidence. No, they weren’t playing “Yardbird Suite”, but they were extending the tradition in a personalized way. Birth The Mourning of a Star El Juicio July 1971 / Atlantic These three titles have been re-released on different labels in recent years. (I found El Juicio on a Collectible Jazz Classics twofer, and Birth and Star are currently on Wounded Bird.) It seems the philosophy of the session that produced them was “anything goes”, because the tracks range from polished uptempo compositions to soft ballads to indulgent noise experiments to a pop song cover to solo piano to miniature theme statements (some tracks are just seconds long), etcetera. You might say that indicates a lack of focus, or you could say it befits a group coming to life. A lot of the components of their later works are first explored here. El Juicio is the most solid of the three. It’s got the archtypical groove piece “Gypsy Moth”, two of the better Ornette-ish dual-sax tunes (“Toll Road” and “Piece for Ornette” - there you go), and the free for all title track. At the piano, Jarrett is gregarious and hardly as profound as he would become. Over time, he’d learn to regulate how much erupted from the seemingly endless geyser inside. And if he’s not a great soprano sax player, he’s not a bad one either. It’s more about engaging the moment with available tools than saying “I play this instrument and I also play that one.” Birth features the absolutely beautiful title track and the super groovy “Mortgage on My Soul”, driven by Haden’s wah-bass. (The one time anything gets plugged in at the session.) The rest of the album indulges the group’s radical noise making side, as witness the wailing winds, voices, percussives, and so on of “Spirit” and “Remorse”. Certain moments are nice, like the piano portion of “Spirit”, but this part of the quartet isn’t yet very rewarding. Mourning of a Star collects all the tracks without Redman. Jarrett, Haden, and Motian had already worked as a trio in the preceding years, and this stuff is wilder. It is actually the most disjointed record of the trilogy. On the one hand are the heartwarming pop grooves of “Standing Outside” and Joni Mitchell’s “All I Want” (overlaid with recorders and congas), both capturing Jarrett’s youthful side. Contrast that with the cozy desolation of “Everything That Lives Laments” and the long journey of the title track; then add noise jams (“Follow the Crooked Path”), and finally sprinkle the tracklist with random miniatures. Douse liberally with steel drums, too. I think “Trust” is a wonderful theme, but the random improv that follows it dissolves the mood. Jarrett has a lot to do with the wavering directions of the music and you also have to look at the free tendencies of Haden and Motian. Both had proved in past groups that they could swing tightly, but that’s because they felt the gravity of strong rhythm section partners. Put Haden and Motian in a room together, and they’re going to tumble all over the place.
If you were to assemble the best ten or twelve tracks from the sessions, you’d have a fantastic album. There are a lot of scraps here, too. These are primers for what’s to follow.
This comprehensive double album covers a lot of ground. It stands apart from the other quartet records because the group is augmented on some tracks by Sam Brown (guitar) and Airto Moriera (percussion), along with brass and strings. The music fills Jarrett’s melting pot of Americana: there’s Latin, countrified gospel, light classical, free jazz urbana, and more. Leave aside the words eclectic (which Jarrett actually argues against in the 2000 reissue liner essay) and fusion (which it really isn’t) and notice the purity of intent, however diverse the surface might be. The first half includes a festive dance in “Common Mama”, the soulful “Magician in You”, and the twang-rock of “Take Me Back”, all colored by Jarrett’s infectious piano. The roiling rhythms of “Roussillion” and “Circular Letter” could only come from Haden and Motian, as the saxes entwine in dark rhapsodies. The title track expands the romantic mood of the album-opening snippet “Visions”, where a gorgeous string chart cushions delicate piano.
The centerpiece of the second half is the 17-minute travelogue “Nomads”, with a majestic, brass-bolstered theme, eerie organ, and an exploratory piano solo. “Sundance”, in contrast, is a bright, rocking piece. Redman and Jarrett go outside on “Bring Back the Time When”, and “There Is a Road” closes the album with a sense of homecoming. The ensembles have a few ragged edges on both discs, and the solos can jar (Jarrett’s soprano on “Take Me Back” sounds like a lost duck, and Redman always has a foot outside the door), but it all fits the character of the music. As an artistic statement, Expectations rates high in KJ’s catalog. It’s like a grad thesis, or a manifesto. I loved it when a friend first gave me a copy years ago, and I still love it today.
A five disc collection of material that went into the albums Fort Yawuh, Treasure Island, Death and the Flower, and Backhand, along with a few previously unreleased extras. The American quartet was very productive, although the quality of their output ranges drastically. This box covers both mediocre and definitive moments. The first two discs document a February 1973 gig at the Village Vanguard (percussionist Danny Johnson sits in), selections of which were culled for the live album Fort Yawuh. It’s hit or miss. The quartet’s freewheeling, no holds barred approach to improv can reach great heights, and they can also sound totally indulgent or at cross-purposes. Of the good stuff, “Misfits” (heard in two takes) samples their aggressive free jazz style, while “Fort Yawuh” and “Still Life” hint at the dour yet eternal beauty that Keith was learning to summon in this era. The lengthy “Roads Traveled, Roads Veiled” suite includes a fine soprano solo from Jarrett, while “De Drums” stays close to groovy home. Meanwhile, “Angles” features a nice piano vamp that the ensuing solo from Redman tears to pieces. The group can be irresponsible with its energies, and that includes Jarrett, whose piano lines sometimes sound like they’re falling off a cliff. Extra bits like “Whistle Tune” and a stern audience address from Keith (“there’s no need to clap”) don’t add much to the already diffuse atmosphere. And watch out for the whiny Chinese musette that Redman sometimes substitutes for his tenor sax. Recorded almost exactly one year later, the calmer studio effort Treasure Island comes across like Expectations Lite. Sam Brown adds guitar to a couple of rock-inflected tracks, and the group rolls out dusty grooves (“The Rich and the Poor”, “Le Mistral”) to go along with the few extreme moments. It’s not a complaint to say that the tunes are more memorable than the solos; that just tells you what you need to know about Jarrett’s writing (solid and original) and the band’s improvising (mostly fleeting). I could listen to the Haden-Jarrett vamp of “Le Mistral” endlessly, and the delicate pop feel of the title track is great.
The final session produced enough material for two albums, Death and the Flower and Backhand, perhaps the quartet’s most mature music to date. The convincing large-scale piece “Death and the Flower” explores heavyweight impressionism and a spontaneous release over the course of 22 minutes. The ethnic jam “Kuum” (small percussion, musette, rubbery bass) is the best effort yet in that style, and “Great Bird” shares the same exotic feel. “Inflight” captures an infectious sense of forward motion, while “Vapallia” fills the ballad slot. For a good balance of writing and improv, hear Keith’s measured solo in the superb “Backhand”.
Four discs, four original albums, several bonus takes. The recording dates straddle the great divide of the ECM titles listed below; consequently or not, a low and high entropy contrast exists between the first two discs and the last. The quartet starts off flying high and then undergoes artistic disintegration. The Shades album on Disc 1 ranks with the quartet’s best work. “Shades of Jazz” stands close to tradition yet still gives the players freedom to roam, as does the oblique ballad “Rose Petals”, three takes of which demonstrate Jarrett’s care of craft. The outstanding groove piece “Southern Smiles” is rootsy yet sophisticated. Like most of the other rock-soul-gospel (or whatever you want to call it) tunes by Jarrett, it provides a warm feeling. Volatile improvs follow the perky theme of “Diatribe”. The bonus takes contain some good moments, like Dewey ripping through an alternate of “Shades of Jazz”. Disc two features the album Mysteries, which is not focused as Shades. “Rotation” spins abstract solos, and “Flame” returns to primitive exotica. The melodic meditations of “Mysteries” are countered by an active piano solo. The best track is “Everything That Lives Laments”, specifically the longer alternate take. Once a somber etude on an earlier album, the tune now spreads wings under Jarrett’s piano solo, maybe his best ever with the quartet. Flowing single lines summon a charging vamp, then Haden and Motian break into straight swing and Jarrett really takes off. Redman comes in and out of the picture as well. The master take is good too, but the alternate goes the extra mile. The snippet “Playaround” from the session shows the band having a laugh at ragtime hot potato. Forward to October 1976: the quartet has reached its end, and Jarrett’s solution for the final albums is to feature the compositions of the other members. Byablue (Disc 3) centers on Motian’s works, which are as elusive as his drumming. The title track trips over its own sweetness; “Trieste” is more evocative; “Yahllah” goes for a tribal folk vibe. Motian has an interesting creative side, but it’s fairly lightweight despite worldly scope. A mood piece by Jarrett (“Konya”) and a forgettable ballad by Jarrett’s then wife (“Rainbow”) fill out the program.
The offhand highlight of Bop-Be (Disc 4) is Jarrett’s catchy title track, a boppish piano trio performance that looks not only to the past but to the future. Haden offers the pensive “Silence” and the self-descriptive “Pocketful of Cherry”. (Don, that is. Jarrett turns to soprano.) Redman’s vibrant “Mushi Mushi” could pass for a Jarrett tune, while “Gotta Get Some Sleep” glances yet again at Ornette Coleman, and it’s got a hellaciously good tenor solo. “Pyramids Moving” sounds the death knell for the whole “small percussion and wailing foreign instruments” bag. A few minor sparks notwithstanding, the group sounds like they’re fulfilling a studio commitment. The lack of direction is obvious, and so dissipates an iconoclastic quartet.
The masterwork. Two side-long tracks focus the band on a series of somber Jarrett themes. The strength of the album comes from the unification of the players’ energies, something that happened in smaller blocks of time on previous works, but Survivors’ Suite remains integrated for nearly fifty minutes. That’s remarkable for such a rambunctious group. The spacious, pristine recording is another improvement. Redman leaves behind the musette and concentrates on tenor sax, while Jarrett plays soprano sax, osi drums, celeste, and bass recorder (like a low flute sound) along with piano. “Beginning”: Rattling shakers, a bass figure, and haunting lines from bass recorder invoke a nature scene of sorts. At 4:18, a new bassline and percussion pulse emerges, eventually topped by a wary theme for soprano and tenor sax. Motian brings in the drums. A chord change is introduced into the backdrop, then Jarrett and Redman take solos as Haden and Motian rumble down low - my favorite part of the album. At 12:45, the tenor winds down and the piano is left alone playing a rolling chord sequence, somewhat classical and very beautiful. Bass and overdubbed celeste lend support. Three minutes later, Redman adds a top line and then solos. The chord cycle evokes a mood of attaining but always returns to its starting point. Haden takes a bass solo over celeste at 18:44, followed by a re-entry of the tenor and the semi-tragic theme. A reflective piano solo begins at 22:20, and Haden finishes the side with another short solo, to which the band adds a final question mark, or “to be continued.” “Conclusion”: The choppy, Coltrane-ish “Great Bird” theme from the Death and the Flower album is borrowed as the main motif for this half, the first few minutes of which involve free jazz flurries led by Redman’s honk-skronk sax. Motian adds a powerful drum solo. Bass and piano return at 4:30 and downshift to a light Latin groove and Jarrett takes a solo. At 7:11 he veers into a new chord progression over the same rhythm and improvises further. Redman solos a few minutes later in his singing, skittering style. His phrases are well connected to what Jarrett had just improvised, and it’s times like this when the two individuals seem to be on the same emotional page. Haden gets a spot at the thirteen-minute mark. At 14:35, soprano sax signals a return to the dark “Great Bird” theme, with the recorder ghostly in the background. (A reminder of where we started.) The rhythm drops out and the soprano plays a crying soliloquy. At 17:30 comes a full band return of “Great Bird”, alternating with a grander secondary theme. These wave back and forth until a sustained conclusion.
Couldn’t resist a straight out description there, though Survivors’ Suite ultimately relies on indescribable passion. The group is strongly committed throughout this powerful work, which should appeal to adventurous listeners of all kinds.
An anticlimactic finale recorded in concert in Austria with the band at loggerheads. Redman hangs offstage for the first 20-odd minutes of the set, leaving Jarrett to muse on percussion, soprano sax, then piano, with Haden and Motian in reserved support. There is palpable tension in the piano vamps, as Jarrett tries to draw his saxophonist from the wings. The music thus becomes somewhat minimalist by default; it’s beautiful by itself, but there’s a nagging sense that something or someone is missing. It makes Redman’s sudden entrance all the more effective when he joins the band to build up a bonfire of intensity.
The first of the three untitled encores is quite joyous in comparison, with Jarrett’s carefree piano suggesting that all is forgiven. Motian’s pent-up enthusiasm breaks loose as well. The second encore entwines tenor and soprano on one of Jarrett’s post-Ornette variations, while Jarrett takes the final encore alone (can it get more symbolic?), playing a reflective piano benediction. What gives Eyes of the Heart its overall intrigue is the emotion that runs through the whole performance, even if (for the first twenty minutes or so) it is an emotion of uncertainty. Call it tension and release on a grand scale, and the giddy eruptions of the first encore only resonate if you’ve heard the sparse waiting game Jarrett was playing earlier. The quartet would come to an official end after the Impulse studio sessions in October, but here is the real swan song, imperfect and compelling.
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