It's ironic that Thelonious Monk is included in many lists of "standard" jazz artists for beginning listeners to explore. His fame and influence are matched only by his contemporaries such as Miles Davis, Charlie Parker and John Coltrane, with whom Monk performs on this new release. Yet Monk and Coltrane are two very different players: equally soulful, but stylistically disparate. This performance, recorded in 1957, is a demonstration that even the great musicians are not always compatible with each other.
Monk's flagrant disregard for traditional virtuosity has led to simultaneous exaltation and chastising from the jazz community for over half a century. He represents both the epitome and the antithesis of a jazz musician: he is a highly original and creative individual, who nonetheless appears to constantly demonstrate his lack of control over the piano. I could turn this into a philosophical debate about Monk's supposed "lack of control" and how it doesn't make one ounce of difference when evaluating Monk's career, but instead I'll just say this: Monk could play. He just doesn't play like ANYone else. The first track on the disc, an incredible rubato rendition of "Monk's Mood", shows this individualized virtuosity, a concept which is all but lost in jazz academia today. Monk is, more than anyone else in the jazz world, an influence to be felt in spirit. His music is a lesson in soul, that level of what we feel that is beneath what we hear. All young musicians need to explore this realm.
That's why it baffled me that he had John Coltrane in his band, who I hold in just as high regard, but for completely different reasons. While Monk rarely flaunted his technical prowess at any point during his career, Coltrane's early work shows that he was always more than willing to show off what licks he had been practicing. The difference between Coltrane and every copycat wanker tenor player is that Trane had so much soul you could cut it with a knife. This is why Trane is often viewed as a god among saxophonists: his technical perfection, originality, and soulful execution gave him all the assets necessary to be a true legend. The fact that he was in the right place at the right time clinched the deal.
Article comments
1 - Aaman
I'm itching to get my hands on this album, really
2 - godoggo
No comment on this particular recording, which I haven't heard (thoug I've heard other stuff they did together, and I know what you mean). Anyway, I just wanted to note that most of Monk's sidemen contrasted pretty dramatically than him - another striking example being the group with speed demon bop tenor player Johnny Griffin. His long-lasting group of the sixties with the very Monkish tenor player Charlie Rouse, was really the great exception to this rule, and, much as I love Charlie's playing, it was one of Monk's least exciting groups, to my ears, specifically because that contrast was missing (also because Monk's eccentric virtuosity had diminished, arguably, although the more I listen to this later stuff, the more I suspect that he had just deliberately purged his playing of his flashiest, most over-used licks, as many older musicians do, even as their bodies slow down).
3 - godoggo
It occurs to me that Milt Jackson was one sideman who managed to create a lot of sparks with a more congruous style.