There's three types of listening that I enjoy when it comes to music, and they each have a unique purpose.

• Your typical songs or compositions. Written, recorded, multi-tracked, mixed and produced, covered by smaller artists, of whatever genre you see fit.

• The ambience of the world. Sometimes, I just turn it all off, and listen to the air, the traffic, the trickling raindrops, my own pulse. Unique at every moment, never to be repeated again, never planned, with no artist behind it.

• Improvisation.

That last one is comparatively new to me. I always enjoyed going to the odd Jazz concert or listening to the odd improv sessions, but for the most part, it lacked... something.

The first point, a written song, tends to come with a human meaning built in, no matter how trite. The music then does its best to translate that intention into a sound we can relate to in our own individual ways, something that can appeal to us all through trial and error until we get the catchy balance just right.

The second point, most would not even describe as music unless you're John Cage. But its the sheer lack of intention is the entire point, for me. It doesn't have some romantic human metaphor undulating beneath the sound of a cat screaming at a bigger cat. It's just a cat trying to survive being boned.

There is no hidden meaning or lyrical content for me to analyse. It just exists, and with that, allows my mind to truly empty out and feel at peace, no artist pushing anything onto me to appreciate. I just appreciate it for what it is: Pure sound.

The third was always a kind of mixed bag, somewhere in between pure intention, and pure randomness. It didn't really stand to have a reason to exist, other than showing off one's virtuosic chops. And, in fairness, that is what the vast majority of people also feel. The professional Jazz musician might say we just don't get it. But, I do get it. I understand what they're doing, I just don't typically find any deep meaning in it that's worth my time beyond chilling in a Blue Note and enjoying the vibe.

But not all improvisation is a vibe check or dick-measuring contest.

And no other record can demonstrate this better than

Keith Jarrett's 'The Koln Concert.'

A solid 1 hour 10 minutes of completely improvised piano music, this record became, and remains to this day, the best selling solo piano work in history, with almost 4 million sold. (not much when you compare to Rihanna or whatever but quality over quantity, right?). This also makes it the single best selling solo jazz album in history.

The context for this performance makes on appreciate it before one even listens.

Keith had been suffering from immense back pain after numerous sleepless nights, extremely long driving on tour, and a general crappiness of health. Upon arrival, it turned out they got the wrong piano, a crappy mini grand which was out of tune, broken sustain pedal, and awful tone.

He almost dropped the concert entirely, but was ultimately convinced to continue, wearing a back brace to keep him upright.

The piano was tuned, but the pedals were still dodgy, and the tone was unbearable to a perfectionist such as Jarrett with perfect pitch and a lifetime of piano brilliance under his belt.

Muddy tones and dull upper strings just made the piano almost unbearable to him.

But, he played on anyway, and with all these problems running under the whole concert, he managed to create a legendary work of mastery that will doubtless be added to the list of timeless classics of history.

Now you have a bit of context, listen, perhaps, to the first 25 minutes - Part 1 - without distraction. And do not forget, it is all improvised. Made up on the spot, no plan, nothing composed.

This is far more than simply noodling with the melodic minor scale on a guitar for jazz musicians to click their fingers to. This is a demonstration of mastery blended with the purest of emotions oozing from Jarrett's fingers.

There is no filter that which you are forced to machete your way through when writing songs. First, you have language as the first barrier. Then you have structure, musical convention, a target audience, a hook, an expectation to accomplish a certain number of sales or appreciation for one's art.

Not so with Jarret's Koln Concert and others like it. It goes straight from a spark in the brain, to the fingers and out of the piano, hundreds of times per minute, in real time, with nothing in between but the decades of growing genius that unlocked the opportunity for this music to exist in the first place.

One of the more striking things about Jarrett's performances is his super-lively presence. Even with just audio, you'll hear him throughout the whole work vocalizing his music, yelling, bashing the piano, and just feeling whatever it is he's making with insurmountable intensity. It honestly adds to the music in inexplicable ways. It works so well where you might otherwise expect such a behavior to be a distraction. And nobody can replicate it.

Jarrett also plays in an interesting way here, which many believe is a direct result of the shitty piano situation. To compensate for the dullness of tone, he had to work out other ways to make the instrument shine, such as going mostly with ostinato - repeating patterns in the left hand bass - to build a strong vibe of tension and varying power, with his right hand dancing all around it.

If, for example, you listen from about 21:00, you'll hear this utterly gorgeous waterfall of music, which over the next minute develops very subtly into a new, equally beautiful ostinato pattern to finish off the first part of the concert, a dance that feels like a musical interpretation of a sweeping Irish meadow, sunbeams cutting through the clouds onto the fields of flowers below.

Though repeating, it never truly repeats. It builds, falls, grows, shrinks, dances and rests. Breathes in, breathes out. Never a dull moment.

And that is perhaps one of the reasons this concert became a global best seller. The rawness of emotion, the brain-to-piano output only Jarrett was capable of. A once in the lifetime experience for the 1,700 audience members, one that may never be replicated again.

Not even, unfortunately, by Jarrett himself, who has since suffered two strokes and completely lost the use of his left hand. There will be no more Jarrett masterpieces.

But, he was fairly prolific. So if you like what you hear above, get listening to anything else you can find!

It's all good, but if anything was to be a gateway into improvisation as a medium of listening, Jarrett's improv work is probably the way to go.