Life in Mars can be Sweet and Lovely
You’d easily believe me if I told you that the Brad Mehldau solo piano concert in Madrid, last week on November 5th, was my first attendance to a performance since March. Being able to enjoy again the magic of music, with one of my favorite musicians alive, became unique. Feeling even more thankful than the artist himself for sharing what he makes best: unexplainable emotions. Precisely what we humans are made of.
On July 29th I felt somehow very lucky when I managed to find tickets for a Brad Mehldau Trio show in Madrid, programmed for November. I shared the happy news with the world, in Facebook, crossing publicly my fingers for all possible things to turn bad. A good friend commented: “have faith! we’ll have a vaccine for the virus in september ”. Less than three months later the show got cancelled, then reprogrammed only with the solo piano show, and it almost didn’t happen. As soon as Spain’s late summer second Covid-19 wave hit, seats and distance had to be reorganised… and reduced to 50% of the original capacity. But we got our seats! (thanks Andrés!).
There are a few reasons to explain why you managed to remain engaged until this second paragraph, and although I’d love to think is because of my writing talent, I’m pretty sure is because you either have a passion for Mehldau’s music, or jazz music in general. I obviously have both, I even preserve a certain belief on my talent, one that keeps me writing every day. But jokes apart, it’s always good news to attend a performance of any variation on Mehldau's creativity. Market and the media need to keep this sensational best selling artist in the jazz category, while (if you still dig that debate) he goes beyond that all american tradition. He’s actually managed to seduce his current label Nonesuch into a very prolific flow of releases. We’re talking five albums in two years, spanning from the revision of Johann Sebastian Bach’s music on After Bach, a timely new record with the trio, the excellent cross-genre Finding Gabriel, all the way to this years spontaneous therapeutical Suite: April 2020, which expectedly had an important protagonism in Madrid’s concert.
Thank you Madrid, thank you
A very punctual audience arrived with trained obedience to be seated in the smaller room of the Auditorio Nacional, a classic for solo piano performances of any style. This is the same room where I saw Michel Petrucciani for the last time, only one month before his death, which caused me unusual tears when I got the news, but it just happened I’d met Michel for a lovely interview after that memorable performance. This is also the room where I met Brad, backstage, quite a few years ago, also for a solo piano concert, when I was taking care of press and media for my city’s jazz festival. So, despite what some people say about this sort of auditoriums, I’ve plenty of beautiful memories to get me excited, everytime I come to this wooden almost sacred walls…
The conversation in the air was, unsurprisingly, about the missing chance of having Mehldau’s trio live, instead of him alone. Considering the recent news about Keith Jarrett’s forceful retirement, many voices have started asking (and wondering) if Brad would step in to hold the jazz kingdom of solo piano. It’s clear that, although speaking completely different tongues in the keyboard, Mehldau has progressively reached a high enough stardom that could easily be propelled with Jarrett’s tragic farewell from the stages. But maybe this appearance could test and refresh our demanding ears about that accidental replacement. Still…
Brad Mehldau stepped into the stage only five minutes (of courtesy) after the hour, wearing a blue quirurgic mask, the public icon of this endless pandemic. He immediately squeeze it in his left hand, place it on the piano and seated on his (now famously) extra low stool. He introduced very briefly the performance expressing how happy he was to be in Madrid, playing live, and he thanked us repeatedly, stating how important we (audiences) were. Then, the music began.
Stranded in Amsterdam
Everything felt immediately like a miracle, being there, in the audience, so close to the live music and the continuous flow of touching notes. It took me so time to avoid my pushing train of thoughts in a million directions, which it has been the case during the last months, as a direct consequence of spending so much time indoors. Knowingly, I think, Mehldau’s opening set was a combinations of different tunes, featuring a couple of Beatles’ covers, like a vivid uptempo I Saw Her Standing There. A starting declaration for the concert to unwrap, ultimately full of Lennon/McCartney covers, like I Am The Walrus, For No One, Golden Slumbers, or Here, There And Everywhere.
A series of interventions between songs quietly revealed how this was not going to be a fireworks performance. Brad Mehldau’s solo piano covers have become an element of nervous anticipation for every show, while the audience quietly awaits for epic moments like Exit Music For A Film, River Man, Paranoid Android or And I Love Her (probably living examples of why he could be the next Jarrett, if you care about this game). Madrid was going to be all about intimacy, memories and healing. That’s why his latest release (the mentioned Suite: April 2020) took the heart of the repertoire (though, in fairness with Mehldau’s law of never giving the expected, he only played partially).
Some of you, fans, might remember that the Covid-19 pandemic found Brad Mehldau and his family in Amsterdam, a personal connection for the artist since his wife is dutch. He alternates Holland/Europe and the US, for living, recording, composing and touring, but this time he had to spend (like most of us) a lot of time at home, without live shows, travels and getting together with other musicians, like his trio members, Jeff Ballard and Larry Grenadier. That made him particularly nostalgic, and blue, which he admittedly healed creating the music that took the form of the album April 2020, in twelve songs and three covers. One of these covers, Neil Young’s Don’t Let it Bring You Down felt like the theme spirit for Madrid. And it’s fair to pay tribute to his generosity, because standing away from seasonal exploitation Mehldau decided to use this commercial release as a direct force to support struggling musicians during the coronavirus crisis (still pretty much in action), and a limited edition in vinyl of only 1000 copies hand signed (priced at 100$) raised over 100 000 dollars in support of the Jazz Foundation of America’s COVID-19 Musician’s Emergency Fund (as he explains in the video next to these lines).
Welcome to Life in Mars
Right after an hour of music the performance stopped and Mehldau thanked us all one more time. I couldn’t help thinking how hard it must be to perform again like this, alone, and how physical these shows turn out to be when you haven’t been touring. Piano players suffer countless problems with their backs, and I almost could detect that on Melhldau’s shoulders as he walked away from the piano.
We were extremely lucky to receive no less than five extra songs, with two notable choices. First, the classic Broadway standard Sweet n Lovely (which I’m sure in Mehldau’s mind relates to the Coltrane/Monk version), then, as a final curtain, David Bowie’s Life in Mars. They were both jazz cafe piano bar modest covers, in the sense of not turning them into big epic monsters full of dramatic crescendos, as we are used to with Brad. These encores highlighted one more time the message for healing, closeness, solidarity and intimacy that very single selection brought as a form of undertext. In the words of one of my favorite picks of the night:
To lead a better life
I need my love to be here
(Here, There, And Everywhere; John Lennon / Paul McCartney)
