My first time ... at Nik Bärtsch's Ronin

Those who know Nik Bärtsch so far only from hearsay may believe, as I did until now, that his concert series is called "Nik Bärtsch's runnin'". And although I now know that his Zen funk quartet Ronin refers to a masterless wandering samurai, running is not at all a bad metaphor for what has been happening every Monday evening in Zurich since 2001. I put on my running shoes.

It's already five before the concert starts in the club: the room is dark, every seat is occupied, and those who still have to go to the bar do so crouched, whispering and without losing sight of the stage. In the audience sit young jazz students, older couples, for whom Saturday can also take place on a Monday, and a handful of people who visually show their interest in Zen Buddhism. A solemn silence wafts through the room. I warm up and get into position.

"Welcome to Ronin 909," the Nik Bärtsch opens the evening, and what sounds like a radio station's greeting at the beginning of a new hour serves as an orientation for die-hards and first-timers alike: today is Ronin's 909th time on stage. Bärtsch strokes, pokes and taps the keys of his piano awake. After a few bars it is clear: Here piano is not played - here piano and pianist play together. What can be heard is not Bärtsch's dexterity - but what the piano gives in response. The explorative awakening turns into an explosive drive: The race has begun.

As a foursome, the musicians lure the audience into a state of flow: the gaze softens, thoughts become more diffuse, outside remains outside and worlds open up inside. This is even more true for my centerpiece of this set: The track "A" meanders live even more generously than at home from the record player into the living room - until Sha finally elicits the redeeming high notes from his bass clarinet. I catch my breath briefly.

Rituals play the main role in Bärtsch's work - not only because he stands on the stage of Exils every Monday. But also because every week he musically invites us to discover something new in the eternally same: piano becomes percussive, meditation here means movement, a whole world emerges from a single key. Through repetition, we move forward: at a varying walking pace, we have reached our goal. And start the race again next week.