Last night I watched a documentary, Keith Jarrett: The Art of Improvisation. Through numerous interviews with the subject and those close to him, the film attempted to explore all that is this famed jazz pianist.
If the director were to call me today and ask if I would take part in a five-minute survey about my experiences with the film, and to rate it on a scale of Excellent, Very Good, Good, Fair or Poor, I would respond with Good. If he pressed me for a one-word review, I would say, "Illuminating." It was indeed an enjoyable documentary, one that held my interest throughout and one that I would recommend to others (ahem?), but that is almost entirely on the part of Keith Jarrett and his overflowing brilliance.
That Jarrett is a truly exceptional musician cannot be overstated. For the unfamiliar, a prime example of this is his career of solo piano concerts, in which a full hour or two is completely improvised. Consider the supernatural abilities one must possess in order for this to be successful: dexterity, stamina, agility, to say nothing of an almost unparalleled musical cognizance. That's the key to Jarrett's music, that what he improvises can stand alone, as a complete and rich composition. He could have had a perfectly fine career if he only had his excellent style and technique, but what makes him a musical genius-- and what makes me question using that term with other musicians, even those I love more-- is that Jarrett can come from nothing and create something important.
I do take issue with one part of the documentary, and that is the title. To me, the phrase, "the art of improvisation" means a learned skill, or at least a talent. It implies that one must practice and work hard to master this ability. That indeed can be true for improvisation, and it is a sure fact for Jarrett, but all the same that is not where his improvisations come from. No, it's not that simple. To hear Jarrett play, and especially to see him play, it becomes undeniable that, in a way, the movements, the music, are not coming from him. This documentary only reinforced this; we hear Jarrett make such remarks as, "when I create those worlds, I try not to fill it up with things I like, so that it is created by something other than my preferences", and, "some people see improvisation as a way of connecting two written pieces, but I see it as connecting nothing to nothing", and "when I stopped telling my left hand what to do, it began to show me things that I never knew it was capable of." Others interviewed often spoke about asking Jarrett about how he comes up with what he plays, and his common answer appears to be, "I don't know, I just do."
Tied into all this is Jarrett's notorious stage presence. When he gets into it, the man is unrecognizable. He gyrates, he contorts, he jumps, he squats, he scrunches his face, he sighs, yells, and sings along to himself in a high-pitch whine. This underpins the sense that when Jarrett improvises he is not rapt with attention to every musical choice, but quite the opposite; it is all happening through him but independent of him. It could be as if his body is a robot, and he just hits the big "ON" button and the figure begins to churn out music... but robots can only do what they are told and follow a set path, they know nothing of creating. It could also be as if he is possessed by a demon, one who uses his body as a tool... but demons are pure evil, they know nothing of the beauty of this world and therefore could not create it. I cannot identify where Jarrett's improvisations come from, but I can certainly say that they do not come from him.
Jarrett is interesting as a psychological case study almost as much as a musician. I would love to hook electrodes to him as he performs and scan his brain. I'll bet that when he really lets go, there is something amazing happening in there.
Jocelyn watched some of the documentary with me, and later commented on how corporeal Jarrett's playing was. That's a good word. The composer Harry Partch famously said something along these lines: music should be corporeal as a way of achieving holistic healing. I don't know if Partch ever saw Jarrett play, or was a fan, but I'm sure he would have been proud. And perhaps that's all that Jarrett is doing when he's improvising: he's healing.