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Thelonious Monk
The Columbia Years 1962 – 1968
Columbia/Legacy - C3K 64887
Original Release Date : June 19, 2001
   
Disc 1
1. Monk Speaks
2. Bye-Ya
3. Coming On The Hudson
4. Rhythm-A-Ning
5. Think Of One
6. Pannonica
7. Crepuscule With Nellie
8. April In Paris
9. Ugly Beauty
10. Honeysuckle Rose
11. In Walked Bud
12. Thelonious

Disc 2
1. Reflections
2. Blue Monk
3. 'Round Midnight
4. Dinah
5. Ask Me Now
6. Ruby, My Dear
7. Don't Blame Me
8. (When It's) Darkness On The Delta
9. Played Twice
10. I Mean You
11. Bemsha Swing
12. Jackie-ing

Columbia Box Set

Disc 3
1. Nutty
2. Straight, No Chaser
3. Evidence
4. Epistrophy
5. Well, You Needn't
6. Misterioso
7. Hackensack
8. Bright Mississippi
       
  © 2001 by James Hale - used by permission of the author
 


Few major artists have had long periods in their careers that are as controversial as the '60s are for Thelonious Monk. Thirty-three years after he ended his six-year affiliation with Columbia Records and 19 years after his death, fans continue to debate the merits of the recordings he made with producer Teo Macero. On one side of the argument are observers like African-American culture historian Gerald Early who sees the period as a "slouch of bedeviled laziness." The opposing view is presented in the liner notes of this three-CD box set by curator (and early Monk producer) Orrin Keepnews and his son, jazz historian Peter.

No one can deny the fact that Monk seemed to have lost the urge to compose after the creative burst that generated 33 enduring pieces between 1952 and '61. During his Columbia tenure, he turned out just 10 new compositions -- some as slight as "Bright Mississippi", which is little more than a gentle reworking of "Sweet Georgia Brown". The debate turns on whether you believe Monk used his Columbia recordings and live performances of the time to perfect interpretations of his compositions, or if you cleave to the position that the writer s block of the '60s was simply a foreshadowing of the total withdrawal that would mark the final six years of his life.

Whichever side you take, it's clear that the Columbia years gave Monk the highest profile he enjoyed during his 34 years as an active performer. Not only did the Columbia contract afford him the luxury of the company's powerful marketing machine, the extensive cover story in the February 28, 1964 issue of Time magazine put his face on coffeetables across America. The '60s gave him the opportunity to tour as extensively as he wanted to, and the popularity of his early compositions was beginning to bring significant royalties. It's estimated that Monk earned about $50,000 a year during the '60s -- a substantial sum for any musician, particularly one who had trouble finding work for the previous 10 years.

These three CDs -- featuring 31 recordings and three-and-a-half hours of music -- provide an excellent perspective on this era of Monk's career. But the evidence to support the theory that Monk was honing his performance technique is hard to find, due to the elder Keepnews' programming decision to not repeat any composition.

His other defining concept was to eschew chronological programming in favour of grouping the recordings by the number of players and the type of venues. So, the set is broken into eight studio quartet recordings, three studio trios, two studio recordings with a big band, four solo performances in the studio, 10 concert hall performances and four club dates. The bulk of the performances are early ones -- a total of 19 come from the first two years of the period, while only three come from '65 and none at all from '66.

Finally, Keepnews follows the formula set for other Columbia/Legacy reissues of restoring performances to their original state, by removing edited sections and resurrecting discarded solos. In all, the set contains six previously unheard recordings and three that were previously issued only in edited form.

The opening quartet recording of "Bye-Ya", cut at the first session on Halloween 1962, falls into the latter category since the previously version of the song, from the LP Monk's Dream, contained the opening and tenor saxophone solo from the band's first take and the piano solo and out-chorus from the third take.

Monk's working band of saxophonist Charlie Rouse, bassist John Ore and drummer Frankie Dunlop had been together for three years -- an unusually long run by Monk s standards. Ore and Dunlop had shown they could drive a song hard the way the pianist liked, and Rouse had developed an uncanny ability to mirror his boss' idiosyncratic language in his own distinctive, rough voice.

Rouse himself is controversial, of course, since many listeners never got used to his herky-jerky phrasing or his tendency to play sharp. Then again, like George Coleman and Hank Mobley in Miles Davis' quintet, Rouse had the unenviable task of following John Coltrane s footsteps. Rouse may be an acquired taste, but he fits Monk's conception perfectly -- at least enough so to hold the saxophone chair for 11 years.

One thing that's evident from the quartet's '62 recordings is that experience wasn't about to smooth out its rough edges. Compared with Davis' or Coltrane's bands of the time -- let alone Dave Brubeck's or Stan Getz's -- Monk's quartet sounds as raw as Muddy Waters did alongside the more urbane Buddy Guy. Dunlop and Ore swing hard on a particularly urgent-sounding "Rhythm-a-ning", while Monk and Rouse demand attention when they duet on "Coming On The Hudson".

While one of the knocks against the quartet's recordings was that they all sounded alike, a few the performances captured here put the lie to that. An unreleased version of "Think Of One" from '63 suffers from an oddly disconnected solo by Rouse and a stumble by the saxophonist as he returns in the wake of Monk's solo. On the other end of the spectrum are a sparkling version of "Pannonica" from a month later, which features a long, passionate Rouse solo and strong work by Dunlop, and the beautiful take of "Crepuscule With Nellie" that was released on Criss-Cross.

By October '64, Larry Gales and Ben Riley had replaced Ore and Dunlop, and the new band is represented by a restored master take of the aptly named "Ugly Beauty" and a moving version of "April In Paris" that has Rouse phrasing the song the way Tom Waits might sing it.

The trio sessions are anomalies by definition, but two songs -- "Honeysuckle Rose" and "In Walked Bud" -- are strange for more than simply Rouse's absence. The Fats Waller chestnut has applause overdubbed for some reason, but that shouldn't distract the listener from observing Monk's stride roots, his sense of humour and the way he adds drama to a bass solo by framing it with a repeated six-note motif.
The presence of Jon Hendricks makes Monk's tribute to Bud Powell a rarity, but it's far from the singer's best moment. While his scatting is intuitive, his improvised lyrics (including the odd couplet "every hip stud/really dug Bud") wear thin fast.

Inexplicably, Disc Two begins with the recordings that marked both Monk's departure from Columbia and, many believe, the nadir of his recording career. It's hard to imagine what possessed Teo Macero to hire saxophonist Oliver Nelson to write arrangements of Monk's music, or why he allowed the tape to keep rolling through what was undeniably a train wreck of a recording session.

"Reflections" begins well enough, but it slides downhill as soon as the band enters, so ill-fitting is their blaring sound. Even the presence of Rouse and tasteful players like Bob Brookmeyer and Ernie Watts can't save it.

"Blue Monk", the other tune from the doomed November '68 session, sounds far too bright and fast. Monk tries to compensate by playing up and uncharacteristically straight. As a result, he sounds oddly like Ellington -- interesting, but not enough to overcome the bombastic arrangement.

The session may be jarring for the listener, but Monk apparently wasn't shaken. He took time out from the big band to cut a timeless version of "'Round Midnight" that kicks off the solo section. Monk's solo outings were heavily sampled by Columbia, so there's nothing among the versions of "Dinah", "Ask Me Now" and "Ruby, My Dear" that will surprise, as good as they are. A live solo performance of "Don t Blame Me" (recorded in Mexico in May '67) forms a bridge into the concert hall recordings and the meatiest section of the box.

Part of the mythology that grew up around Monk surrounds his crowded apartment in the San Juan Hill section of Manhattan's Upper West Side. According to Barry Farrell, author of the Time profile, Monk felt it was wholly appropriate that Lincoln Center was built just three blocks from his apartment. Perhaps it was that neighbourhood feeling that helped make his December '63 concert at Philharmonic Hall so good. Given that it occurred just over a month after one of America's darkest times, the pall of the Kennedy assassination may have added a certain depth to the proceedings.

As was his custom, Monk began the concert with a selection of solo numbers, and the sampled "(When It s) Darkness On The Delta" is a fine, if somewhat showy, representation. Rouse turns in a very strong performance on "Played Twice" and new bassist Butch Warren takes a taut, lyrical solo. The centerpiece of the concert was a reunion of Monk and arranger Hall Overton, who had helped stage a triumphant show at Town Hall in 1959, leading an all-star nonet. The 13-minute "I Mean You" included here is highlighted by a crisp cornet solo by Thad Jones and masterful ensemble work by Steve Lacy, Phil Woods and the rest of the band.

From there, Keepnews jumps back seven months to a Japanese quartet tour that sounds anticlimactic by contrast. Rouse has serious intonation problems on "Bemsha Swing" but redeems himself with a hard-blowing performance on "Jackie-ing". The rhythm section sounds tight and ferocious on both tunes.

Disc Three drops the listener into a summer day in Rhode Island, just in time to catch the bizarre combination of clarinetist Pee Wee Russell and Monk's quartet. Familiar from its inclusion on a budget-priced package that included a Miles Davis Newport session from '59, the Monk/Russell date continues to fascinate more than the usual musical blind date. Given Russell's ultra-straight reading of the head of "Nutty" it seems unlikely that he'll be able to hold his own against Monk and Rouse, but his improvisation is a tremendous example of open-mindedness and quick thinking. Following one of Rouse's more routine solos, Russell begins with some downward-bent phrases that seem at odds with his traditional tone. But he continues to surprise with some very contemporary-sounding work that makes you wonder if he hadn't been listening to Jimmy Giuffre on the sly in preparation. Finally, Russell downshifts suddenly into a lower register, forcing the band to change direction; in effect, out-Monking Monk.

Next, the calendar jumps ahead 14 months to another festival -- Monterey -- and a pleasant Buddy Collette chart of "Straight, No Chaser" that is notable for the inclusion of Steve Swallow on bass. Otherwise, it's a strange inclusion, considering it's a Warner Bros. recording, not a Columbia date.

Then, it's across the Atlantic for another Warner Bros. ringer: a Swedish performance from '67 that was featured in the film Straight, No Chaser. While the band sounds loose and energized -- with more onstage patter than any recording this side of a Jazz At The Philharmonic gig -- there is little here to distinguish the performances of "Evidence" and "Epistrophy".

Finally, it's out to California for the Monk quartet's fall '64 swing that included stops at Los Angeles' It Club and the Jazz Workshop in San Francisco. For Monk fans, these four songs will be familiar from their inclusion in Columbia/Legacy s CDs Live At The It Club and Live At The Jazz Workshop -- Complete. Here, finally, is some evidence of what Monk said he was trying to do in the '60s: bring his music -- so distinctive and full of surprise, no matter how many times you hear it -- to audiences and swing them as hard as possible. The band is grooving hard, and if you close your eyes you can picture Monk doing his bear dance around the piano bench.

Perhaps the Columbia years simply made him happy. Is anything wrong with that?
_________________
© 2001 James Hale
jhale@sympatico.ca

© Jonathan Block

I bought this when it came out. I highly recommend it if you don't own much of the columbia output. I own none of the studio columbia stuff so I think it's a good way to get a cross section of material. Many of the tracks that were originally on the studio albums are represented with a different take, so there less overlap than would seem by just reading the track listing.

The sound quality is very nice, altho the piano sounds a bit "modern" in spots. By this, I mean the mastering brings out the high midrange sound. This may or may not bother you. As I mentioned above, I've never owned any of T's studio sessions on columbia, so it's been a nice discovery for me. Particularly surprising is the Blue Monk take from the Monk's Blues sessions. I've always seen this release disparaged, but his piano playing on this version is the best I've heard IMHO. There's many other highlights, but one that comes to mind are Jackie-ing from the tokyo concerts. Even from the live material already available, there's usually not more than two tracks represented from a particularly release.

My complaints? Although the booklet is nicely done, I would have liked to have seen discography information and, more importantly, descriptions of the restored material. For Bye-ya, this is explained, but for In Walked Bud, there's no explanation about what was missing from the originally released take. These are minor complaints, as I'm happy with the booklet overall. What I find more annoying is the cardboard foldout that the CDs are on. The discs go onto rubber plugs that don't do a good job of holding them. I can also see these drying out over the years and becoming useless.

My bottom line? I think it's worth the dough. Again, if you don't have an extensive collection of the columbia material already, it's an easy decision to buy. Those with most of the columbia CDs will have to decide for themselves.
________________________
© Jonathan Block
block@synthblock.com
http://www.synthblock.com

Un Travail Bâclé © Jacques Ponzio

Columbia, alias CBS, racheté ces dernières années par Sony Music, vient de mettre sur le marché un coffret de 3 Cds intitulé "Monk, The Columbia Years, ’62-’68".
Une telle publication -dont c’est peu de dire qu’elle était attendue- en dit plus, cependant, sur la vraie nature de "Sony Music", propriétaire actuel des trésors du jazz mondial que sur l’évolution stylistique de Thelonious Monk ou l’état de son art? Mais n’anticipons pas et examinons d’abord l’ensemble des titres publiés :

Disc 1
1. Monk Speaks
2. R•Bye-Ya
3. Coming On The Hudson
4. Rhythm-A-Ning
5. U•Think Of One
6. U/I•Pannonica
7. Crepuscule With Nellie
8. April In Paris
9. R•Ugly Beauty
10. U•Honeysuckle Rose
11. R•In Walked Bud
12. U•Thelonious

Disc 2
1. U•Reflections
2. U•Blue Monk
3. 'Round Midnight
4. Dinah
5. U/I•Ask Me Now
6. U/I•Ruby, My Dear
7. U•Don't Blame Me
8. (When It's) Darkness On The Delta
9. Played Twice
10. I Mean You
11. Bemsha Swing
12. Jackie-ing

Disc 3
1. Nutty
2. Straight, No Chaser
3. Evidence
4. Epistrophy
5. Well, You Needn't
6. Misterioso
7. Hackensack
8. Bright Mississippi

Renseignons à présent le lecteur sur la signification des signes cabalistiques (suivis ici pour la lisibilité par une puce •)
U = Unissued (inédit)
U/I = Inédit à l’origine (LP), édité ensuite (CD)
R = Restauré? Schématiquement, on a remis à leur place les solos de basse et de batterie, ou supprimé les collages entre le début d’une prise et la fin d’une autre.

Mais alors, que dire des titres qui ne portent aucune mention? Eh bien c’est très simple, ils ont déjà été publiés tels qu’ils le sont de nouveau aujourd’hui. Autant dire que 22 titres sur un total de 31 ne sauraient prétendre au statut de rareté. De ce point de vue, on remarquera que les albums "Live at the It Club" et "Jazz Workshop" viennent tout juste d’être réédités, en version intégrale qui plus est. "Monk et Miles à Newport" (encore un beau tripatouillage de Columbia par ailleurs) se trouve sans difficulté.

Si, donc, plus des 2/3 des titres peuvent être trouvés dans d’autres contextes, quel peut donc être l’intérêt d’un tel coffret? Écoutons Orrin Keepnews: "…malgré le fait que Thelonious Monk rejouait fréquemment ses morceaux favoris, je me suis fait un point d’honneur à ne pas doublonner les titres. Je voulais que chaque composition importante soit représentée…". Naturellement Keepnews reconnait lui-même qu’il n’a pas réussi à atteindre ce dernier objectif dans la mesure où c’était impossible dans le cadre étroit qui lui était imparti. Mais enfin, il a essayé et il n’est pas question ici de critiquer ses choix.

Pour aller droit au but, on peut donc affirmer que la publication de ce coffret vise, et atteint, une double cible :

1) La population des "néophytes" de l’œuvre monkienne, qui se voient offrir un compendium, une sorte de "Monk-de-voyage", dans lequel on trouve de tout un peu : une interprétation de 31 des principaux titres joués entre ’62 et ’68 (conforme au goût et aux possibilités d’Orrin Keepnews), en diverses circonstances : solo/trio/quartet/big band, studio/club, compositions personnelles/standards.
De ce point de vue, celui de la découverte éventuelle d’un univers, le but semble atteint. Encore faut-il que l’objet ait permis de créer une exigence, une envie, qu’il ne colmate pas aussitôt. Là, je ne suis plus sûr du tout du résultat final.

2) La population des monkophiles ou monkolâtres invétérés, collectionneurs complétistes qui se damneraient pour un fragment exhumé qui vient aussitôt prendre sa place dans le puzzle imaginaire des "manques", tels qu’ils ont pu être repérés à la lecture des ouvrages biographiques qui commencent à apparaître un peu partout, et dont chacun porte en lui la liste d’attente.

À ceux-là sont offerts 6 inédits absolus et 3 versions restaurées. N’y en aurait-il eu qu’un seul, aucun de ceux qui appartiennent à cette catégorie n’aurait manqué de se procurer l’objet. n’empêche qu’un tout petit tiers, c’est peu. J’y vois un procédé mercantile qui vient forcer sans vergogne la main de l’amateur. Ces neuf titres n’eussent-ils pas pu faire l’objet d’un album "Monk Unissued ’62/’68", par exemple? Évidemment. Mais, à ce compte-là, c’était rater à coup sûr la cible des "nouveaux". Impossible.

Le pire, c’est qu’il existe des quantités d’autres inédits provenant de concerts ici déflorés et qu’on peut donc, et même on doit s’attendre à une ou des opérations de la même farine dans un avenir plus ou moins lointain, à mesure de l’évolution du marché tel que la perçoit "Monsieur Sony".

Le meilleur, à part quelques joyaux monkiens jusqu’ici seulement soupçonnés, c’est probablement le texte très élaboré et informatif de Peter Keepnews, fils du précédent et dont l’analyse subtile vaut le détour. À la réserve près qu’encore faut-il pouvoir lire tout cela; une fois encore, les graphistes s’en sont donné à cœur-joie du côté de l’illisible : casses microscopiques, encres bleu-clair défiant la loupe… Heureusement, une belle collection de photos inédites vient combler en partie l’attente du lecteur.

On ne sait pas pourquoi Peter Keepnews, dont on attendait la biographie de Monk, annoncée depuis des années et reportée de mois en mois, a finalement dû renoncer à son projet. D’autant qu’il pouvait bénéficier d’informations puisées pour ainsi dire à la source, eu égard aux relations de son père avec la famille de Thelonious. Cette reculade est d’autant plus dommage que ce vide a laissé place, aux États-Unis, à des ouvrages qui sont largement inférieurs aux niveaux d’information et de réflexion manifestés par Peter Keepnews dans son texte.

Columbia a peut-être tenté de joindre ici l’utile à l’agréable, pour moi, ce serait plutôt, aux réserves près exprimées plus haut, l’inutile au désagréable. On peut aussi se demander quel rapport il peut y avoir avec l’annonce récente de la crétion d’un site internet dédié à Monk, par ses ayant-droit eux-mêmes, assorti de l’annonce inouïe de la fabrication et de la commercialisation de quantités d’inédits ou de concerts actuellement introuvables. Déjà des enregistrements privés faits par Monk chez lui permettent de l’entendre plaisanter avec Nellie, bientôt 15 nouvelles minutes avec Coltrane, d’autres bandes où il joue Rachmaninov, où il travaille "I'm getting sentimental over you" pendant une heure et demie, y incluant peu à peu les éléments de son style…

Si elle tient ses promesses, voilà une année faste qui s’annonce pour les monkiens.
_________________________
© Jacques Ponzio, août 2001

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