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When I read that Jarrett had returned to the studio after more than ten years, I think I started doing macarena dances and cheering alone in the kitchen (I write, work, read, play, practically live in the kitchen...).
And of course, I awaited the work with devout and kneeled aprioristic adoration. Yes, because studio work always has something meditated, studied, pondered, that cannot exist in the immediacy of live creation (while being, in other ways -but, precisely...: in other ways- the live performance is ontologically superior...).
And usually the studio endeavor, if it risks being lacking in soul, is often constructed and fascinating, especially if the author and director of it all is an artist of the caliber of Keith Jarrett. And the traveling companion is not just any cameo, but that ancient and perfect travel companion of Charlie Haden.
Therefore, expectations were sky-high. So high that they were really just waiting for the "confirmation" arguments. And instead, the work, listened to and "lived" multiple times, deserves a much deeper analysis than one would have expected to have to undertake. Moreover, there are enthusiastic, tearful, reverent reviews to be found...
Let's be clear: I regard Keith Jarrett as nothing less than God. But it's not given that, aprioristically, all the donuts are the most beautiful in the world, with the most beautiful hole in the world, incontrovertible proof of the existence of God himself...; so, in a nutshell, I allow myself the dangerous luxury of a Jarrettian counter-current. Instinctively, I would go with the Menandrian mantra "then we regret... then we regret...", but I can't really say I've enjoyed where I haven't enjoyed, or seen the soul's inspiration where, unfortunately, I haven't seen it.
Let's be clear again: these two former boys play indeed, the record is a perfect backdrop for a classy dinner or a refined fling... But should two giants be reduced to this...? Haden yes, objectively: many of his records (above all the perfect "Nocturne") are truly a luxurious backdrop, so beautiful as to be objectively unquestionable (as this record partly remains), but, in our case, there's a worrying risk of "flatness": Haden plays in basic; of course, one can claim that nobody "beats the quarters" like he does, and it's probably true, but, again, the game of emotion in such extreme minimalism doesn't always work.
Jarrett in this record has been compared by many to the very solitary "The melody at night with you". Big mistake, in my opinion, although I admit it's hard to see. There, Keith was minimalist but unexploded, perfect in touch and phrasing, ethereal, seemingly inconsistent, and yet very consistent. Here he is flat (God forgive me...). Uninspired. Every phrase is "telegraphed" although objectively splendid, just like a solo of BB King.
Everything flows well, for heaven's sake, but emotion remains distant. From two names of such caliber, one always expects more than just a five-star background. Even though that, occasionally, can also be useful...: in short, it's better to listen to this record while snuggling with a 20-year-old and sipping a good Gosset than listening to Gigi D'Alessio playing rummy with a 50-year-old and downing an icy Tavernello.
But would Jarrett be happy to have the task of proving Catalano right?
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