Five-Star Collection... Thelonious Monk

Thelonious Monk Septet

Monk's Music

This is THELONIOUS MONK's music — an album emphasizing fresh versions of some of his most notable compositions, as played with great skill, respect and enthusiasm by top jazz musicians.

Monk, throughout a long struggle for fitting recognition, has at least been fortunate in one important respect: a substantial body of performers has always been aware of the originality, significance and validity of his music and been eager for opportunities to play alongside him. To work with Monk is a challenge, both because of the demands his music makes on players and because he is an unrelenting perfectionist; but this is the sort of challenge that talented and properly self-confident men appreciate and enjoy. 

Thus Thelonious has no difficulty in surrounding himself with the best.

(...)

But, with all due respect to these six considerable talents, a Thelonious Monk album belongs primarily to Thelonious. For many years regarded as an awesome genius, but one whose ideas were too far-out for general consumption, Monk now seems finally to be gaining long-deserved acceptance.

(...)

In any event, more and more new listeners now seem prepared to take the trouble (and it still is trouble, although it can be vastly rewarding) to pay close attention to Thelonious. Which makes it a fitting time to present an album largely devoted to new and expanded treatments of four Monk "classics" of the '40s, previously recorded by him only in briefer versions and without horns.

It should be noted that terms like "composition", "arrangement", and for that matter even "performance", can be quite misleading if taken too narrowly. To a performer-writer like Monk (and like most major figures in East Coast jazz today), a composition is automatically also an arrangement, designed to be played by himself and by specific other instruments (often specific musicians). In subsequent performance with other players and groups of different sizes, the arrangement changes; after a while, 

a change of attitude towards the original composition, or new creative ideas, can lead to further substantial alterations. (This may be one reason why jazz of this school, 

whatever its own shortcomings might be, can never be accused of "coldness", a charge sometimes to be made against music prepared once-and-for-all by arrangers who 

then do not continue to be personally associated with the composition.)

Because of this, and because Monk never likes to consider any tune as static, irrevocable or finally set, an "old" Monk piece can and often does become recast and revitalized to a point where it should properly be regarded as "new" music. * Orrin Keepnews (liner notes)*

Although there are a few moments of relative disorganization on this set, the compelling musical personality of Monk more than makes up for it.

Starting with the less-than-a-minute version of Abide, played by the horn choir, through the final notes of Crepescule, with its old blues feel underlying modern raiment, the album is to date the best cross section of what Monk is doing today with a group.

Hawkins, who can appear in virtually any context and feel musically right at home, appeared lost structurally on two of the tracks. Blakey and Ware propelled him into his solo on Well, You Needn’t. When it seemed that Hawk was looking for a foothold, Blakey fed him a climactic roll, and Ware gave him an ascending line on which to build. Ware earlier performed the same function for Coltrane, who popped in a bit late after Monk's shouted: "Coltrane, Coltrane". Ware punched the same note for some eight bars before biting into an ascending line, giving Coltrane's solo a tremendous rhythmic boost.

On the brittle Epistrophy, Hawk had a false start on his solo during Blakey's session at the drums, but Art later fed him a clean break on which to start blowing.

Rather than detracting from the performance here, these minor occurrances only heighten the feeling of spontaniety.

Hawk is noble and warm on Ruby, and Monk is moody and firm on Crepescule. Off Minor, a blatant and thoroughly Monk piece, features excellent soloing by Hawk, Copeland, and Monk, with a brief burst of fireworks from Blakey.

Throughout, Monk is the dominant force. The music, whether blown by the horns or rapped out by his hands, is as much a part of him as his thoughts. It is a highly personal music, now brittle and seemingly spastic; now firm and outspoken. But always it is unified in conception and in overall sound.

It is a tribute to Monk that within this intensely personal music, a soloist like Coltrane can develop a singularly personal style of his own, while fitting into the frame of Monk's reference. Trane's work on Epistrophy, for example, is about as fine as I've heard from him on record. In person, his playing is constantly tense and searching, always a thrilling experience.

This is one to play again and again with no diminution of pleasure, or of discovery.

*Dom Cerulli (Down Beat, December 26, 1957 [5 stars])*

Side 1

1 - Abide With Me

(Henry Francis Lyte, William Henry Monk)

2 - Well, You Needn't

(Thelonious Monk)

3 - Ruby, My Dear

(Thelonious Monk)

Side 2

4 - Off Minor

(Thelonious Monk)

5 - Epistrophy

(Thelonious Monk)

6 - Crepuscule With Nellie

(Thelonious Monk)

Ray Copeland (trumpet); Gigi Gryce (alto sax), Coleman Hawkins, John Coltrane (tenor saxes);

Thelonious Monk (piano); Wilbur Ware (bass); Art Blakey (drums).

Recorded at Reeves Sound Studio, New York City, June 26, 1957