Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.


Made in Britain: Warp Films at 10, British Film Institute, London, 19-30 April
April features a BFI celebration of 10 years of contemporary British cinema from a company behind several iconic stories. Continuing an annual exploration of British Cinema, last year centered on female directors, this time the focus is on the productions of Warp Films. Founded in 2001 the company has produced among others This is England and Dead Man’s Shoes. There will also be a Film Masterclass available for the aspiring cinematographers.



Petrenko conducts in Warwick, Warwick Arts Centre, Coventry CV4 7AL, 24 April
Conductor Vasily Petrenko and Nikolai Lugansky on piano present an all-Russian evening with Tchaikovsky's First, Liadov’s Enchanted Lake and Prokofiev’s Fifth. Among the most respected piano concertos these pieces have been described as virtuoso Cossack-rides and fairytales of reality escape. Petrenko is the Chief Conductor of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra and Lugansky won the 2011 BBC Music Magazine Awards in the Chamber Music category.



The day I swapped my dad for two goldfish, Beacon Arts Centre, Greenock PA15 1HJ, 25 – 27 April
Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean have had another picture book turned theatre with The Day I Swapped My Dad For Two Goldfish. Following the success of The Wolves in the Walls in 2006 the play explores what happens when a spur of the moment decision turns bad and snowsballs out of control. Appropriate for anyone aged 6 or up. Created and directed by Lu Kemp and Abigail Docherty and written by Oliver Emanuel.


The Wright Way, BBC1, Starts 23 April
A new sitcom by Ben Elton, The Wright Way stars David Haig as Gerald Wright from Baselricky Council Health & Safety Department. He tries in vain to manage his hopeless team and avoid causing the catastrophes they are meant to prevent. A biting look on bureaucracy and office incompetence from the man responsible for the Blackadder series and The Young Ones. Also starring Mina Anwar, Kacey Ainsworth, Joanne Matthews, and Robert Daws.



The Dairy Art Centre, London WC1N 1PG, opens 24 April
Former-milk-depot-turned-art-gallery The Dairy will host its inaugural exhibition of avant-garde pop culture mix from Swiss artist John Armleder. His art is described as “a celebration of reality in its everyday and most commonplace manifestations.” Not-for-profit and free for all the 12,500 sq ft centre will feature the projects chosen by collectors Frank Cohen and Nicolai Frahm. Having worked together for over 15 years the couple and collaborated and collected with many of the most prolific artists, they have called the dairy a “kunsthalle”, a space where the artworld and the public can come together.
A new play based on one of Neil Gaiman's books will premiere in Scotland. Photo: Darryl James/Getty Images
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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