‘The Köln Concert’: How Keith Jarrett Defied The Odds To Record His Masterpiece - By Charles Waring
January 24, 1975 proved a memorable, magical night for the 1,300 people that witnessed American jazz pianist Keith Jarrett perform a solo recital in the majestic surroundings of Cologne’s opera house. Fortunately, the concert was recorded for posterity by ECM Records, who released the recording later that year as a double-album housed in stylish black-and-white artwork adorned with a picture of an Afro-topped Jarrett hunched over the piano. Though The Köln Concert quickly went on to become regarded as a classic and amassed sales of four million (to date, it’s still the best-selling piano album of all time), remarkably, the concert almost never happened.
A young German student and part-time promoter called Vera Brandes – an avid jazz fan who was just 17 at the time – was responsible for organizing the concert and, at Jarrett’s request, had arranged for a Bösendorfer 290 Imperial concert grand piano to be provided for the show. Unfortunately, the opera house staff wheeled out the wrong piano – a much smaller Bösendorfer baby grand. To make matters worse, it was a piano used for opera rehearsals and was in abject condition and badly out of tune.
For a renowned perfectionist such as Jarrett, who was fastidious about his pianos and possessed perfect pitch, the instrument was an abomination. When he was given the news that there was no time to get a replacement piano, Jarrett threatened to cancel the show. Making matters worse, Jarrett was not in good shape. He had been suffering from excruciating back pain for several days, a result of which was a run of sleepless nights. To cap it all, his condition was exacerbated by the exhausting five-hour, 350-mile drive he made to Cologne from a concert he’d given in Zurich. Given that situation, it was no wonder that the pianist was ready to call it a day.
Thankfully, Vera Brandes refused to give in and managed to cajole and pacify the pianist while technicians spent several hours trying to make the piano playable and sound halfway decent – at least to an untrained ear. They managed to tune it, though couldn’t do much to improve its tone and timbre, which was defined by jangly high notes and a less than resonant bass register. And if Keith Jarrett thought that was bad enough, he had to contend with malfunctioning sustain pedals.
Even so, the pianist – wearing a back brace to give him extra spinal support – eventually went out on stage at 11.30pm (the concert followed in the wake of an opera performance) and battled through pain and exhaustion to give one of his most memorable concerts ever.