Number 35 March 20, 2010

Last night we saw Keith Jarrett at Davies Hall in a rare solo performance. I first saw Keith Jarrett in the 60's with the Charles Lloyd Quartet at the Avalon Ballroom opening for Albert King, the headliner being B.B. King. Forest Flower was a very important recording for me as a young musician, and much of my chord voicings on guitar, with widely spaced major 9/13s for example, come from Jarrett. Of course his marvelous work with Miles, and then the many ECM recordings, have been inspirational. But especially during his solo concerts the last few years, he will berate the audience for coughing, eliciting boos and jeers. His sarcastic timing is better than most professional stand-up comics (he did a diatribe in 2000 at a concert on hanging chads and the rigged election that was worthy of Lenny Bruce) but it is very disconcerting to me. At one point I thought he was about to leave the stage. Then, by way of winning the audience back, he asked for requests, and played a lovely "What Is This Thing Called Love". At the end he played five or six encores to standing ovations, an audience member shouting out that "the riff raff are gone". People do cough; at Keith Jarrett concerts and Rubenstein concerts and Horrowitz concerts. Equally as distracting are Jarrett's vocalese and foot tapping, and body contortions. I can get past those easily enough; he's done them to a lesser degree all through his career. But the insulting the audience routine has become schtick; John McEnroe screaming at the umpire, a parody of a parody, and for me it has finally come to cheapen the experience.