Thelonious Monk: Monk’s Music (1957)
1957 was one of the most eventful and significant years, both good and bad, in the life of Thelonious Monk: the maverick genius of modern jazz piano.
At 39, Monk was well respected by the jazz cognoscenti but still unknown to dilettantes, and though he’d done some touring around the country, he’d barely played in his home base of New York City since his cabaret card (a relic of the prohibition era, often used with draconian, racially-motivated bad intent) had been revoked in 1951.
Adding to these troubles, in ‘56 a fire gutted his family’s apartment, destroying his piano; the early months of ‘57 saw Monk (who suffered from undiagnosed bipolar disorder) committed to Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital; and, later that spring, his wife Nellie was stricken with an illness that led to a thyroidectomy.
And yet, somehow, amidst all this, Monk found himself a new manager, Harry Colomby, who helped reinstate his cabaret card and promptly secured a much-needed, six-month residency at the Five Spot Café, where he started a fruitful relationship with John Coltrane.
The year also brought not one, not two, but three important sessions with Riverside Records and producer Orrin Keepnews: Brilliant Corners, Thelonious Himself, and Monk’s Music, issued that fall, 65 years ago.
Its title alludes to the fact that all but one of its tracks were Monk compositions (the hymnal “Abide with Me” was written by William Henry MONK), and all of those had previously appeared in different versions, except for the rare through-composed (i.e. no solo breaks) ode to his ailing wife, “Crepuscule with Nellie.”
Not so “Well, You Needn’t” (famous for its chromatically ascending/descending chords) where you can literally hear Monk calling on “Coltrane! Coltrane!” to take the first solo before Monk himself takes a turn with what the All-Music Guide’s Lindsay Planer called his “nimble authority, ability to swing, and atomic clock accuracy.”
An actual living legend, Coleman Hawkins (Coltrane was just getting started), brings his smoky tenor sax to the sultry “Ruby My Dear” and yet another icon, Art Blakey, imparts his percussive wisdom throughout, most notably on “Epistrophy” -- Monk’s first ever copyright, extended to ten minutes here.
Oh yeah, Ray Copeland plays the trumpet, Gigi Gryce alto saxophone, Wilbur Ware double bass, and an uncharacteristically focused Thelonious keeps everyone on task in his own, non-linear way, especially on the notoriously challenging “Off Minor.”
The end result was a clutch of hard bop standards and an album that, in spite of its questionable cover photo (the red wagon seems like a cheap reference to his eccentric reputation), put Thelonious Monk’s career back on track, albeit an ever-winding one, not without many bumps, until his long decline and death in 1982.
Still, Monk’s Music remains ...
More Thelonious Monk: Brilliant Corners, Misterioso, Criss-Cross.