The Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.


Café Oto, London E8 – Evan Parker, John Edwards and Eddie Prevost, 7 August

Evan Parker, Eddie Prevost and John Edwards launch their new trio CD – the first release in Eddie Prevost’s Meetings with Remarkable Saxophonists series. Legendary British saxophonist Evan Parker’s trademark sound is filled with circular breathing and multiphonics, stretched over trance-like lines. He has fuelled the free music scene since the 1960s, both here as well as through his European wanderings – famously contributing to Peter Brötzmann’s 1968 Machine Gun session. Parker is joined by the formidable technicians, bassist John Edwards and percussionist Eddie Prevost (founder of AMM), who have long pushed the boundaries of the musical imagination.


Noël Coward Theatre, London WC2 – Julius Caesar, 8 August – 15 September

The RSC’s new production of Julius Caesar is transferred to the Noël Coward Theatre this August as part of the World Shakespeare Festival. Newly appointed RSC Artistic Director Gregory Doran shifts Shakespeare’s political thriller to post-colonial sub-Saharan Africa, acquiring dark contemporary undertones. The company includes Jeffery Kissoon as Caesar, Paterson Joseph as Brutus and Cyril Nri as Cassius.


Queen Elizabeth Hall, London SE1 – Marina Abramovic: The Lecture For Women Only, 5 August

Performance artist Marina Abramovic has designed her latest project, The Lecture For Women Only, entitled The Spirit In Any Condition Does Not Burn, for an exclusively female audience. The gendered format comes as an attempt to explore concepts of femininity and men are not being admitted to the auditorium. Abramovic, most famous for her 736 hour MoMA retrospective The Artist is Present, is hosting the lecture as part of Antony Hegarty’s 2012 Meltdown festival.


Tate Modern, London SE1 – Tania Bruguera: Immigrant Movement International, 7 – 15 August

Cuban artist Tania Bruguera arrives at the Tanks at Tate Modern, a new space devoted to live art, to take up a three week residency for her art project Immigrant Movement International. Bruguera’s work aims to be an artist-initiated socio-political force exploring the nature of citizenship and values shared by immigrants. Lawyers, politicians and member of the public are drawn into debates around the immigrant experience today.


Purcell Room, London SE1 – Diamanda Galás: Schrei 27, 3 August

Diamanda Galás’s film Schrei 27 - an emotive and critical exploration of the torture of an individual in isolation - produced with director David Pepe, was premiered in 2011. Here Galás gives a lecture on her work as an activist and artist, followed by a screening of Schrei 27.

Evan Parker plays at Cafe Oto (Photo: Andy Newcombe)
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On the trail of Keith Jarrett's melodies

Lose focus for a second and you can quickly drop the thread of Jarrett's complex improvisational techniques.

“So, this is a piano,” said Keith Jarrett, sitting down at the one that had been placed centre stage for him in the Royal Festival Hall on 20 November. Blowing on his hands to warm them, he acted as if he had never encountered such an instrument before, raising a chuckle from the hundreds of fans who had turned out to see the man in the flesh. For 40 years, Jarrett has been giving concerts like this – alone with the piano, playing his improvised music to a room full of rapt devotees. Notoriously grumpy – and now as well known for his tirades against cameras and coughing audience members as for his early days playing with Miles Davis – he has an almost eerie focus onstage, relieving the tension only very occasionally with his barbed observations about the excellence of the instrument, or the shuffling in the auditorium.

Jarrett gave us a series of short pieces, each rendering separate and distinctive musical ideas. He began with an intricately woven flash of notes in both hands, criss-crossing the melodies that were by turns dark and haunting, or light and dancing. At particularly complex moments, when his arms were crossed over and the notes were flowing from his fingers faster than anyone could imagine them into existence, he leaned his ear down towards the keys, as if physical closeness could help his ideas more swiftly become sound.

A couple of folk-inflected ballads followed; heart-achingly sweet melodies picked out above rumbling, sour arpeggios. Like Glenn Gould, the Canadian pianist best known for his recordings of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, Jarrett can’t help adding vocalisations as he plays, which are all the more evident in his quieter compositions. He rose and fell from his stool; we heard his guiding hum along with the melody, as well as the odd strangled shout, yelp and grunt. He might insist on absolute silence from the audience but his own noises seem completely uninhibited as the music spins around him.

Although notorious for his curmudgeonly attitude to his fans, Jarrett was mostly restrained in this outing, allowing himself just one short, sweary outburst about killing a “f***ing camera”. At the age of 70 and with the power to sell out his concerts in just a few hours, you do wonder how much of the persona is genuine and how much of it is just giving the audience what it expects. A case in point came near the end, when he yielded to clamouring and gave a surprisingly simple and straightforward rendition of “Danny Boy”, an encore that long-time fans know well.

Given that this recital was under the auspices of the London Jazz Festival, there was surprisingly little in Jarrett’s programme that could easily be identified as jazz. One piece, full of brisk rhythms and chunky chords, gradually revealed itself to be based on a modified 12-bar blues structure and another had haunting overtones surely pulled from the classic American songs of the first half of the 20th century. Indeed, this musical ghosting becomes a major preoccupation when you see Jarrett live. It is too easy to distract yourself in trying to follow the auditory trail he has laid for you – was that a bit of Debussy, or Bach, or Glass just then? – and lose the thread of what he plays next. The improvisational technique might have more in common with jazz but now, 40 years on from his bestselling live recording The Köln Concert, it’s difficult to characterise Jarrett’s output as anything other than contemporary classical music.

If it needs a classification, that is. At one point, I became convinced that a particular piece was a Jarrett riff on Beethoven’s Bagatelle No 25 in A Minor – or Für Elise, as it is more commonly known. I was sure it was all there: the extended opening trill, the rising arpeggios in the left hand, the melody cascading from treble to bass and back again. Except, by the time I surfaced from my musing, there was no trace of Beethoven to be heard. A clashing, almost violent melody was dangling over a long drone in the bass. If you try too hard to pin down Jarrett’s music, it moves on without you.

Caroline Crampton is web editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Terror vs the State