Try a little tenderness

Keith Jarrett is one of the world's best jazz pianists. He's lyrical, passionate, highly improvisational. His solo concerts are landmarks. So are his outbursts towards his audiences. He's admonished crowds for coughing, ringing cellphones, flashing cameras. Yes, all those things during a jazz concert aren't cool, but the vitriol he's spewed toward crowds isn't necessary either. He's refused to do encores after an audience has failed to heed his demands. In other words, he's an ogre. Brilliant, but an ogre. (I went to a concert of his a few years ago--he warned the crowd about his, ahem, idiosyncracies. No incidents were reported).

Someone, however, had enough. Last month, in Italy, he played a jazz festival, and proceeded to berate the crowd about cameras, ripping the host city, dropping f-bombs along the way. And this was before playing a note. I'm sure the crowd was wondering what the deal was, and whether the concert would be any good. By most reports it was. The concert ends, and a couple of folks snapped photos. Big mistake, as Jarrett announces that the trio won't play an encore, and storms off the stage. The festival's director, rightfully hurt by the insults, bans Jarrett for life.

Lessons? How hard is it, really, to treat people with some amount of humanity? People pay big bucks to see you, and all you bring to them is contempt? We understand you're an artist, and we'll give you space to work your magic. But could you check the sullenness at the door? The insufferable artist schtick can only go so far.

Never forget to pack your humanity, and a little humility.