PERSONNEL: Thelonius Monk(p), Ernie Henry(as),
Sonny Rollins(ts), Oscar Pettiford(b), Max Roach(d).On
"Bemsha Swing": Clark Terry(t), Paul Chambers(b).
Think of Thelonius Monk, and the words
"eccentric" and "difficult" are
bound to spring to mind. Why? Because much of the
early (and some of the not-so-early) writings about
this gifted composer have centered around his "eccentric"
behavior and his "difficult" music--difficult
both to assimilate and to play. To be sure, Monk didn't
always seem to live in the same world most of us take
for granted nor does his music invite casual listening.
This emphasis on the difficult and hard-to-digest, however,
threaten to overwhelm potential listeners to the point
where they'd rather not even attempt to understand the
music of Thelonius Monk, lest they be labelled "un-hip".
It's a shame, too, because once you've assimilated the
developments of the bop movement, planet Monk is not
that far a trip. Sure, there are the whole tone and
Lydian scales, the percussive piano playing, the shifts
in rhythm and time change that can seem foreign and
intimidating. But in the end, what Monk did is demonstrate
that there were new elements that could be added to
the language of modern jazz without reinventing the
whole thing. In other words, bebop had far from exhausted
the harmonic and rhythmic possibilities that the inventive
jazz musician could explore.
Much has been made of Monk's playing being rooted
in the stride piano style originated by James P. Johnson
and Willie "The Lion" Smith. Indeed, this
does seem to be an influence and can be heard on this
album in spots on the ballad "I Surrender, Dear",
but his piano style is mostly marked by a muscular
quality and a stiff-fingered style that can make his
playing sound crude to the casual listener. A more
accurate term might be "primitive", for
like the primitive art done by folk painters, the
lack of "schooling" in his technique reveals
a truth beneath the notes that is sometimes lacking
from the more "refined" players. You won't
hear much stride influence on the uptempo numbers,
however. Instead Monk throws in Debussy-style whole
tone runs, and other unexpected but welcome goodies.
On this recording, Monk is surrounded by first-rate
musicians who accept the challenges of his compositions
and do them justice. The rhythm section of Max Roach
and bassist Oscar Pettiford or Paul Chambers follows
the twists and turns of a number like "Brilliant
Corners" and provides the necessary punch to
drive the soloists bravely into new territory. Roach
may well be the perfect counterpoint to Monk's piano,
drumming with robustness and kicking in all the right
places. Rollins plays the first solo, beginning with
an easy swing and gradually becoming more restless
as the rhythm section bursts into double-time. A lot
can be learned by listening to Monk's work behind
the soloists on this record--he does so much more
than merely comp on the chords, asserting the rhythms,
gently needling the soloist, and generally becoming
an all-round participant in the conversation rather
than a mere listener uttering the occaisional "uh-huh".
We also get a great solo contribution from Ernie Henry
on alto sax. Henry's playing on the entire album is
just wonderful, and it is a real opportunity to hear
some great work from an underrecorded artist who,
had he not died at the age of 31 less than a year
after the recording of this album, would likely have
been among the artists we consider jazz greats today.
"Ba-Lue Bolivar Ba-Lues-are", which is
simply a phonetic spelling of the title "Blue
Bolivar Blues" is indeed a blues, though as only
Monk would play them. The group gets a chance to stretch
out here and the solos are well-constructed and give
a real flavor of each player's personality. "Bemsha
Swing", a piece Monk had written long before
this recording date, also provides an opportunity
for extended solos, this time with trumpet great Clark
Terry doing the honors. "Pannonica" is a
beautiful piece that finds Monk doubling on celeste
to great effect. Sonny Rollins acquits himself especially
well on this track, with a solo that is in the best
late-night, smoky bar tradition--offering a certain
weariness without sounding weary itself. This was
the third of several albums that Monk recorded for
the Riverside label between 1955 and 1961, and it
definitely belongs on the shelf of any jazz listener
who wants to try to experience the unique sonic world
of Thelonius Monk.