Customer Reviews

Spirits

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Keith Jarrett's world is one of icy precision, hot lyricism, spiraling disonances intermingled with hymn-like triumphs. All on piano, church organ, or clavicord. His ensemble work from his time with Charles Lloyd, Miles Davis, and as a leader of his own quartets and trios began as hard-bop and free jazz. Although Jarrett never ventured into Fusion, by the mid to late 1970's Jarrett's ensemble albums were shot through with rythmic chaos and harsh textures.

Spirits, recorded in the early 1980's consolidates and eliminates the experimental, Coltrane-like strains of Jarrett's music. The music is distilled to its logical essence - primitive instruments, heavy rythyms and a search for meaning through every melodic idea he knew. This is not easy music by any means - the lush glories of his solo work are absent -- this is the work of an artist reassessing his direction by stripping away all the layers of beauty he has laquered onto his vision and exposing the core of his meaning. Spirits is the most personal music Jarrett has ever made - the most disturbing too.

I don't sit down to listen to the album day after day, nor do I put it while I'm work like I do Koln or Staircase, but I do listen to Spirits when I'm searching myself, when I'm looking for new way to do my own work.

My favorite Jarrett piece of all time is on this obscure album. Spirit Number 15 is a pentatonic burst of coherent joy amidst the storm and unsureness of the rest of the Spirits. A more commericially-minded Jarrett would have put this Spirit first to lure listeners in, or last, to bring the event to a joyous close, but as it stands, this short song on whistles and piano pops up somewhere in the middle of the Spirits, like a happy memory in an introspective nightmare.

Spirits is a distintive, troubled work, but one I've treasured since it came out. I would like ECM to back off it's ridiculous 24.00 price for this music. Perhaps more would be inclined to listen to it.

Though I am normally an avid Jeith Jarrett fan, this album is one bad egg in his enormous and otherwise excellent recorded output.
Although I realize this album holds great significance for Jarrett, as he was working through a depression and creative impasse through the making of this album, that does not necessarily guarantee good listening as a result.
The recording, made at home on portable cassette recorders, is severely substandard for ECM; the sound is thin and tinny, and the added echo and remixing do not help one bit.
Then there is the music. Mostly improvisations built on with overdubbing, nothing much happening. This is music of extreme introversion, and although Jarrett goes for some variety by dubbing extra instruments, percussion, it is just plain lackluster; not too many people buy Keith Jarrett albums to hear him play the Pakistani flute.
It's a misstep, that's all; one mistake in an otherwise brilliant career. It's a little too personal, and I am unable to find any emotional connection with this music.

In which Mr. Jarrett eschews his forte for a New Age vision quest. He plays the flutes, the recorders, the sax, the tablas, the shakers, the guitars and yes, even the piano. Totally unlike anything else he's put out, but I find it quite lovely. The Western landscapes that these earthy tone poems evoke are all the more amazing considering he recorded this in a studio in Jersey. Enjoy the trip.