Classic Recordings, Keith Jarrett - The Köln Concert

As 2019 marks ECM’s fiftieth anniversary I thought I might as well cover its single most defining record, selling over 3.5 million copies since its release, The Köln Concert by Keith Jarrett. To fully appreciate the impact that this album made, it’s worth considering where ‘jazz’ had arrived at had by 1975. In quick succession bebop had booted jazz out of the swing era in the forties, branched off into hard-bop and cool in the fifties, and either got further and further out with the avant-garde in the sixties, or retreated to simpler, earlier forms with the trad jazz revival. By the mid-seventies the various strands have polarised – the jazz fusion spawned by Bitches Brew (on which Jarrett appears) and Herbie Hancock was watered down and starting to sound as pompous and over-blown as much of the progressive rock at the time. And so, in contrast to everything going on around it, the simplicity of The Köln Concert, being a man improvising at a piano for an hour, spinning out poetry from nothing, sounded radical. You didn’t need to be a jazz fan to appreciate it, and it might be better classed as ‘Americana’ as there are echoes of folk music woven in.

It’s hard to pinpoint individual moments as the whole concert is one long performance, only divided into four sections in order to fit on vinyl. It certainly works as pleasant background music, but to properly take the trip with Jarrett it’s best to focus and appreciate the delicate balancing act that he is undertaking. Marvel at how the melodies gradually gain in stature to the point where he can pound them out in triumph, and then convincingly retreat, allowing the germ of another idea to grow. There are plenty of hooks and riffs along the way, which is a large factor in its success with open-minded rock fans, and he’s not afraid to risk heart-on-sleeve emotionalism at points (interesting to consider that Bruce Springsteen’s masterpiece Born to Run was released in the same year, which, although very different. share a certain immediacy). The run-away artistic success pumped up Jarrett’s ego, as he made ever more mystical proclamations about subsequent releases, such as this pearl: ‘I have courted the fire for a very long time, and many sparks have flown in the past, but the music on this recording speaks, finally, the language of the flame itself.’ But if that’s kind of hubris leads to the creation of an album as timeless as The Köln Concert then who am I to judge?

Whilst we’re talking Jarrett, I’d like to recommend something properly ‘jazz’ by him, the album Shades, recorded in the same year with his American group featuring Dewey Redman (sax), Paul Motian (drums), and Charlie Haden (upright bass). The Ornette Coleman heritage of Redman and Haden is in full effect on Shades of Jazz, which breathlessly tumbles into Southern Smiles, an all-time favourite of mine. Jarrett grooves so infectiously on a descending riff, that I even enjoy his high-pitched, muppet-like vocalisations. The second half of the album is also good, but you know when have something on vinyl and end up playing the one side over and over as it’s just so moreish?