Venice

La Fenice is one of a number of documents from Keith Jarrett’s 2000s road archive, joining Radiance, Creation, and other resplendent solo-piano titles. A double album, it captures Jarrett once again in his element, playing alone with no preparation in freely improvised odysseys that range widely in length. The bluesy boogie of “Part VIII,” the grand and gorgeous balladry of “Part IV,” the gospel-tinged swing of “Part V”: These are stylistic paths that Jarrett has traveled over the course of decades, always with a different end result. But with the ghostly “Part VI,” a magical unfolding of harmony that stretches to nearly 15 minutes, he breaks through to another level (one of the key objectives of these solo endeavors). On “Part VII,” with its highly unpredictable modulations that evoke mysterious shadows, Jarrett does it yet again. In between is a classically flavored rendering of Gilbert & Sullivan’s “The Sun Whose Rays Are All Ablaze,” one of four composed pieces in the program. Another, “Blossom,” is a contemplative original from Jarrett’s European Quartet days.