Keith Jarrett - 1974 - Belonging

Keith Jarrett

1974 

Belonging

01. Spiral Dance 4:08

02. Blossom 12:18

03. 'Long As You Know You're Living Yours6:11

04. Belonging 2:12

05. The Windup 8:26

06. Solstice 13:15

Bass – Palle Danielsson

Drums – Jon Christensen

Piano – Keith Jarrett

Tenor Saxophone, Soprano Saxophone – Jan Garbarek

Recorded April 24 And 25, 1974 at Arne Bendiksen Studio, Oslo.

Keith Jarrett (born May 8, 1945, in Allentown, Pennsylvania) is an American pianist, composer, and jazz icon whose career spans over six decades. A child prodigy, he began piano lessons at age three and performed classical recitals as a teenager before gravitating to jazz. After studying at Berklee College of Music, Jarrett gained prominence in the 1960s with the Charles Lloyd Quartet, where his lyrical improvisations caught the ear of Miles Davis. Joining Davis’s fusion experiments (1969–71), Jarrett played electric keyboards, though he later swore them off, preferring the acoustic piano’s purity.

The 1970s were Jarrett’s golden era. His solo concerts, including The Köln Concert (1975), redefined improvised music, while his American and European Quartets explored free jazz and lyrical compositions, respectively. Belonging (1974) marked his embrace of European collaborators, cementing his ECM partnership. Known for his intense focus and occasional onstage outbursts (moaning during solos, scolding noisy audiences), Jarrett is as polarizing as he is revered—a perfectionist who treats music as a spiritual act.

Health setbacks, including strokes in 2018, curtailed his performing career, but Jarrett’s discography—over 100 albums—remains a towering legacy. From standards to classical to genre-defying originals, he’s a restless innovator who’d probably tell us to stop writing about him and just play. Lucky for us, his music does the talking.

Belonging, released in 1974 by ECM Records, is a landmark in the pianist’s prolific career and a defining moment for the European jazz scene. Recorded with his newly formed European Quartet—featuring Jan Garbarek on saxophones, Palle Danielsson on bass, and Jon Christensen on drums—Belonging captures a group at the peak of its creative synergy, blending lyricism, intensity, and a distinctly Nordic sensibility. This long-form analysis will explore the album’s musical architecture, historical context, and artistic significance, offering a critical review of its place in Jarrett’s oeuvre. A concise biography of Jarrett follows, grounding the music in the life of its creator. Written with scholarly precision yet accessible prose, this piece includes a dash of wit to keep the tone engaging—because even the most profound jazz deserves a playful nudge now and then.

By 1974, Keith Jarrett was a jazz luminary, known for his boundary-pushing work with Charles Lloyd, Miles Davis, and his own American Quartet. His solo piano concerts, soon to become legendary with releases like The Köln Concert (1975), were already gaining traction. Yet Jarrett was restless, seeking new collaborators to expand his musical vision. Enter the European Quartet, assembled under the auspices of ECM’s Manfred Eicher, whose crystalline production aesthetic would shape Belonging’s sound. Recorded on April 24–25, 1974, at Arne Bendiksen Studio in Oslo, the album marked Jarrett’s first full collaboration with Garbarek, Danielsson, and Christensen, a group that brought a fresh perspective to his compositions.

The quartet’s European roots—Garbarek and Christensen from Norway, Danielsson from Sweden—infused the music with a spacious, almost pastoral quality, distinct from the fiery American jazz of the time. Jarrett, ever the chameleon, embraced this sensibility, crafting compositions that balanced structure with improvisational freedom. Belonging was not just a meeting of minds but a cultural dialogue, blending Jarrett’s American jazz roots with a Scandinavian lyricism that felt both intimate and expansive. The title itself hints at this unity—a sense of finding home in a collective sound, even as each player asserts their individuality.

Belonging comprises six tracks, all Jarrett originals: “Spiral Dance,” “Blossom,” “’Long As You Know You’re Living Yours,” “Belonging,” “The Windup,” and “Solstice.” These pieces range from buoyant romps to introspective ballads, showcasing the quartet’s versatility and cohesion. Unlike Jarrett’s solo or standards-heavy albums, Belonging is a composer’s record, with each track designed to highlight the group’s interplay.

The album opens with “Spiral Dance,” a rollicking tune that sets the tone with its infectious energy. Jarrett’s piano leads with a folk-like melody, spiraling upward in a way that lives up to the title—like a musical helix that keeps climbing. Garbarek’s tenor saxophone enters with a bright, searching tone, weaving counterlines that complement Jarrett’s chords without overpowering them. Danielsson’s bass pulses with a steady swing, while Christensen’s drumming is a masterclass in subtlety, his cymbals and snare accents dancing around the beat rather than dictating it. The track’s structure is deceptively simple, but the improvisation feels boundless, each player taking risks that the others catch and expand. It’s a joyous opener, like a group of friends hitting the road with no map but plenty of enthusiasm.

“Blossom” shifts gears, offering a tender ballad that showcases Jarrett’s lyrical side. The melody, carried by Garbarek’s soprano saxophone, floats over Jarrett’s delicate comping, evoking an almost pastoral calm. Danielsson’s arco bass adds a mournful depth, while Christensen’s brushes whisper in the background, creating a texture that’s as much about silence as sound. Jarrett’s solo here is introspective, his single-note lines unfolding with a storyteller’s patience. The track’s beauty lies in its restraint—every note feels chosen, every phrase deliberate. It’s the kind of piece that makes you lean in, like overhearing a heartfelt conversation you weren’t meant to catch.

The third track, with its unwieldy title, is perhaps the album’s most famous, thanks to a later controversy when Steely Dan’s “Gaucho” (1980) bore a striking resemblance to it (Jarrett was credited as a co-writer, proving even jazz geniuses can’t escape a good riff-stealing debate). Musically, it’s a highlight, blending a catchy, almost pop-like melody with sophisticated interplay. Jarrett’s piano drives the tune with rhythmic verve, while Garbarek’s tenor adds a bittersweet edge. Christensen’s drumming here is particularly inventive, his offbeat accents pushing the tempo in unexpected ways. The track’s sunny disposition belies its harmonic complexity, making it both accessible and endlessly rewarding—like a puzzle disguised as a singalong.

The title track is a miniature gem, clocking in at just over two minutes. A duet between Jarrett and Garbarek, it’s a haunting vignette that captures the album’s essence—intimacy and connection. Jarrett’s piano lays down a simple, hymn-like chord progression, while Garbarek’s soprano saxophone traces a melody that’s both fragile and resolute. Without bass or drums, the track feels exposed, yet its spareness is its strength, like a sketch that says more with fewer lines. It’s a moment of quiet brilliance, proof that sometimes less is not just more but everything.

“The Windup” brings back the quartet’s exuberance, its uptempo groove recalling “Spiral Dance” but with a quirkier edge. Jarrett’s melody twists and turns, almost teasingly, as if daring the others to keep up. Garbarek’s tenor responds with bold, angular phrases, while Danielsson and Christensen lock into a propulsive rhythm that swings hard yet feels effortless. Jarrett’s solo is a standout, his right hand spinning out lines that flirt with dissonance before resolving with sly charm. The track’s playful energy makes it a crowd-pleaser, though one suspects Jarrett might roll his eyes at the term—it’s fun, yes, but fiendishly clever, like a prank that takes a PhD to pull off.

Closing with “Solstice,” the album takes a contemplative turn. The longest track at over 13 minutes, it’s a sprawling meditation that balances intensity and repose. Jarrett’s opening chords set a somber mood, answered by Garbarek’s keening soprano. Danielsson’s bass grounds the piece with a steady pulse, while Christensen’s cymbals shimmer like distant stars. The track builds gradually, with Jarrett’s improvisations growing more expansive, touching on modal and free jazz influences. Garbarek’s solo is a high point, his tone raw yet controlled, evoking a Nordic landscape—think fjords and twilight, not cocktail lounges. “Solstice” feels like a journey, its arc both deliberate and open-ended, leaving you reflective yet satisfied.

Belonging is a study in balance—between composition and improvisation, structure and freedom, American and European sensibilities. Jarrett’s writing for the quartet is tailored to each player’s strengths: Garbarek’s piercing lyricism, Danielsson’s melodic basslines, Christensen’s textural drumming. The pianist’s own playing is virtuosic yet egoless, serving the group rather than dominating it. His harmonic language blends jazz’s chromatic richness with a modal simplicity, creating a sound that’s both familiar and otherworldly.

The chordless trio format, while not new (think Sonny Rollins or Ornette Coleman), takes on a unique character here, thanks to the quartet’s chemistry. Garbarek’s saxophones act as a second voice, not just a soloist, engaging Jarrett in dialogues that feel conversational rather than competitive. Danielsson and Christensen, meanwhile, redefine the rhythm section’s role, prioritizing color and interplay over mere timekeeping. ECM’s production, with its pristine clarity, enhances this dynamic, capturing every nuance—from Jarrett’s pedal work to Christensen’s lightest cymbal tap.

One technical critique is the occasional imbalance in Garbarek’s presence—his sax can feel overly prominent, especially on tracks like “Solstice,” where his intensity risks overshadowing the group. Yet this is a minor quibble, as the quartet’s cohesion ultimately triumphs. The album’s pacing is another strength, its mix of short and long tracks creating a narrative arc that holds attention without feeling forced.

In 1974, jazz was a fractured landscape. Fusion was ascendant with acts like Weather Report, while free jazz lingered on the fringes and traditionalists held fast to hard bop and standards. Belonging sidestepped these camps, forging a path that was neither fusion’s electric sheen nor free jazz’s chaos but a lyrical, accessible avant-garde. Its European flavor, rooted in Garbarek’s folk-like melodies and Christensen’s airy rhythms, helped define ECM’s aesthetic—cool, spacious, introspective—making it a touchstone for the label’s future output.

The album also marked a turning point for Jarrett. While his American Quartet leaned toward free jazz and his solo work embraced stream-of-consciousness improvisation, Belonging showed him as a composer and bandleader, capable of crafting music that was structured yet open. Its influence can be heard in later ECM artists like Pat Metheny and Tord Gustavsen, as well as in the broader “chamber jazz” movement. Critically, Belonging was well-received, with outlets like DownBeat praising its innovation, though some purists found its European leanings too detached from jazz’s African-American roots—a debate that feels dated now but underscores the album’s boldness.

Belonging is a near-perfect record, a testament to Keith Jarrett’s vision and the European Quartet’s alchemy. Its melodies linger, its improvisations surprise, and its interplay feels like a living, breathing entity. Jarrett’s compositions are the heart of the album, offering frameworks that are sturdy yet flexible, like scaffolding for a dance. Garbarek’s saxophones soar, Danielsson’s bass anchors, and Christensen’s drums shimmer, creating a sound that’s both intimate and expansive. ECM’s production wraps it all in a crystalline sheen, making every listen a discovery.

If there’s a flaw, it’s minor: the album’s intensity can feel relentless, particularly in longer tracks like “Solstice,” which demands focus that casual listeners might not muster. Yet this is also its strength—Belonging rewards attention, revealing layers of emotion and intellect with each spin. It’s not background music; it’s a conversation you want to join, even if it means staying up past your bedtime.

Ultimately, Belonging is like a well-crafted novel—accessible yet profound, familiar yet fresh. It captures a moment when four musicians found common ground and made something timeless. For fans of Jarrett, ECM, or just great jazz, it’s essential listening—a record that lives up to its name by making you feel you belong to its world.