A Pairing Worth Waiting For: Keith Jarrett & Charlie Haden
Jasmine (2010, ECM)
© 2010, Andrea Canter
“Charlie and I are obsessed with beauty. An ecstatic moment in music is worth the lifetime of mastery that goes into it, because it can be shared.” –Keith Jarrett, liner note for Jasmine
Keith Jarrett’s comment on his liner note sums up the essence of Jasmine, which, like the flower’s fragrance, will linger delicately, long after the final note. Once cohorts in Jarrett’s “American Quartet” of the 1970s and duet partners on Haden’s Closeness of the same period, over thirty years elapsed before these two jazz titans reconnected. Their musical conversation was prompted by mutual interview projects, Haden providing comments for the documentary, Keith Jarrett: The Art of Improvisation (2005) and Jarrett for Haden’s Rambling Boy biopic (2009), which features an impromptu duet in Jarrett’s home studio. The two then got together for an intentional session of music in 2007, again at Jarrett’s studio, and with no concern for the ultimate fate of the recording. As Jarrett states in his liner note, “This is spontaneous music made on the spot without any preparation save our dedication through our lives that we won’t accept any substitute: it’s either the real thing or it’s nothing…”
Yes, this is the real thing, intimate music, love songs for quiet nights, but also very serious music, not wallpaper, not casual background ambience. That it was recorded as a meeting of two old friends without pretense and packaged without concern for commercial viability may be as responsible for its artistic success as is the consummate skill of the musicians. There’s nothing here to make you jump up and tap your feet; nothing that spells “innovation.” Rather the exquisitely rendered music suggests a slow dance at midnight; the artistry is fully anticipated given the players. And it’s an interaction that works its own singular magic, largely from nuance, touch, small changes that accumulate as metaphysical statements. For Jarrett it is an innovation in format, as his past three decades have concentrated on either solo improvisations or renderings of mostly standards with his long-standing trio with Gary Peacock and Jack DeJohnette. On Jasmine without drums, melody and harmony are laid bare by “two people who have incredible time [without relying] on somebody hitting things, making cymbal sounds,” as Jarrett describes in a recent Jazz Times interview.
Not all the tunes selected for release were perennial favorites of both artists. In fact Haden had never played “Where Could I Go Without You” (Peggy Lee/Victor Young), “One Day I’ll Fly Away” (Joe Sample/ Will Jennings) or “Don’t Ever Leave Me” (Jerome Kern/Oscar Hammerstein) until this session, whereas “Body and Soul” in lesser artistic hands could have seriously risked banality. If every track has been done before, none have been with more love and soul.
Keith Jarrett and Charlie Haden
Starting out with a luxuriant tempo, “For All We Know” (and the following, “Where Can I Go Without You”) set the pace for the album, Haden’s basslines sufficiently assertive to override any need for percussion and still guide dancing partners, Jarrett’s touch firm but caressing; at over nine minutes, theses (and several other) tracks gives the duo plenty of room to stretch and flex their artistic muscle. Particularly on “Where Can I Go…,” Jarrett pares down the melody, opening a wide cavern for Haden’s solo to gently explore; it becomes a pas de deux where each dancer leans back to give his partner space without losing their tether. The essence of lyrics seems close at hand without words.
“No Moon at All” is less ballet, more bright and swinging, Haden a steady pulse setter as Jarrett takes some flights of fancy; they switch roles, ultimately returning to their song for two. “One Day I’ll Fly Away” is prayerful, graceful, majestic. Jarrett composed the brief solo intro to “I’m Gonna Laugh You Right Out of My Life,” which slowly evolves from balladic to upbeat and features an extended, elegant solo from Haden and a chime-like final passage from Jarrett. The pair waste no time reinventing “Body and Soul,” less as the usual ballad, more as a playful dance filled with new discoveries of rhythm and harmony. The music smiles, the dancers sway.
Gordon Jenkins’ “Goodbye” takes a slower, darker turn. I am not familiar with the lyrics, but Jarrett and Haden provide enough songful passion to make words superfluous. The set ends with “Don’t Ever Leave Me,” a sentiment that one can readily apply to this gilded set of music, so beautifully delivered via the simplicity of duet and the timeless artistry of the collaborators. Jarrett and Haden could be two singers, two pianists, two horns, two bassists—they are two melodic voices that transcend specific instruments. Perhaps one of the greatest crimes of modern music was the 33-year silence of their partnership. Or perhaps, only such a long silence could end in such glory.