Keith Jarrett Takes the Trio to a New Dimension

The Keith Jarrett Trio, with bassist Gary Peacock and drummer Jack DeJohnette, has been one of the great pleasures of jazz for the past two decades. Sometimes described as the “standards” trio for its tendency to work with familiar songs, the group undoubtedly has been effective in bringing a flow of new listeners to the music.

Interestingly, however, other Jarrett fans came to the straight-ahead jazz recordings and performances of the trio after first being attracted to his wide-open, spontaneous solo piano performances. And now, in an unusual example of musical circularity, the Jarrett trio’s new recording, “Inside Out” (* * * * ECM Records), once again moves into the unlimited universe of free improvisation.

For those who were captivated by the Jarrett solo efforts, it’s not an especially long leap to grasp what is happening here, in a series of takes recorded live on July 26 and July 28, 2000, at London’s Royal Festival Hall. In fact, Jarrett’s description of the importance of “free” playing in the history of jazz is as applicable to his solo outings as it is to the superb trio performances on “Inside Out.”

“Where’s the form?” asks Jarrett in comments distributed by the label. “Don’t ask. Don’t think. Don’t anticipate. Just participate. It’s all there somewhere inside . And then suddenly it forms itself .”

That’s a good description of what takes place in the four improvised tracks, which range in length from six to 22 minutes long (with some truncations on performances too long to be included in their entirety).

There is also a single closing standard--”When I Fall in Love.” Its gorgeous, arching lyricism, especially during Jarrett’s theme statements, contrasts dramatically with the previous tracks, largely because a preset melody creates an irresistible musical focus.

Best of allan example of classic, beautifully done, straight-ahead jazz balladry on an album also devoted to the no-limits expressiveness of “free” playing brilliantly affirms the music’s ever-evolving capacity for creative expression.

(The Keith Jarrett Trio performs at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion on Oct. 26.)

Guitarist Charlie Hunter also has insisted up viewing jazz as an arena without boundaries. In his case, however, “free” playing has not been part of the mix. Instead, Hunter, with his musically versatile eight-string guitar, has reached out in all directions, pulling in anything that triggers his curiosity, regardless of its source.

“Songs From the Analog Playground” (* * * Blue Note) features the typically groove-driven, funk-drenched, foot-tapping jazz of his regular ensemble. But he has added individual tracks featuring vocal artists--New Orleans singer Theryl de Clouet, rapper Mos Def, and jazz vocalists Kurt Elling and Norah Jones.

The result is considerably more far-reaching stylistically than what generally turns up on Hunter’s releases. De Clouet makes a particularly good fit with the Hunter band, especially when his vocals are circled by the fluid lines of saxophonist John Ellis. Jones, a talented newcomer, invests her two numbers with a poignancy reminiscent of Eva Cassidy; Elling offers the jazz and poetry he does best on “Desert Way”; and Mos Def displays some unexpectedly persuasive jazz vocal skills in his lyrical rendering of “Creole.”

Saxophonist David Sanchez is yet another adventurer in the post-mainstream jazz world. Members of his regular group--in part because they are such gifted individual players, in part because they have had the opportunity to work together on a continuing basis--make up one of the finest, and far too little acknowledged, ensembles on the current jazz scene.

“Travesia” (* * * Columbia Jazz) doesn’t quite reach the passionate intensity of Sanchez’s previous album, “Melaza,” but it is still first-rate. Although recorded in the studio, it nonetheless affords a good opportunity to experience the sort of magic that takes place in Sanchez’s live sets.

One of the most compelling works, “Paz Pa Vieques (Seis Chorreao)/Peace for Vieques,” shifts from traditional rhythms into improvisational back and forth--especially between Sanchez and alto saxophonist Miguel Zenon. Surging with an intensity reflecting an undercurrent of outrage regarding, as Sanchez notes, “the miserable conditions” in his beleaguered Puerto Rican homeland, the piece is a superb example of what this band does best.

Other tracks showcase Sanchez, whose individuality seems to grow with each new recording, in a standard setting (“Ill Wind”) as well as within the atmospheric music of Brazilian Edu Lobo (“Pra Dizer Adeus”). The final track, a stop-and-start theme titled “The Power of the Word,” juxtaposes the intertwining lines of Sanchez and Zenon in the latter’s composition--suggesting that, like Sanchez, he is a talent to watch.

Although Jim Hall is one of the masterful jazz guitarists of the past five decades, he--like Hunter--has insisted on limitless boundaries. His new recording, “Jim Hall & Basses” (* * * 1/2 Telarc Jazz), provides an unusually transparent opportunity to hear him in action. Bringing every bit of his musical history to the performances, adapting to the differing interaction with bassists Scott Colley, Charlie Haden, Dave Holland, George Mraz and Christian McBride, Hall has come up with a characteristically attractive set of pieces that also manage to trigger the intellect.

Somewhat unusually, Hall occasionally reaches beyond the amplified acoustic sound that has been his general stock in trade. Portions of “Bent Blue,” for example, with McBride, have the sort of timbral qualities one might expect from John Scofield (although the improvising is pure Hall). “Abstract 1” and “Abstract 2” take more musically outside tacks--reflections of Hall’s constant engagement with new musical ideas.

For those (and there are many) eager to hear Hall in straight-ahead settings, there are several entrancing tracks: “All the Things You Are” (with Mraz), “Besame Mucho” (with Colley) and an especially nuanced “Don’t Explain” (with Haden). Here, as elsewhere, there isn’t a single false note--musically or emotionally--from a player who seems incapable of delivering anything other than his finest efforts.