Feb. 1, 2010

In 1957, after more than a decade of poverty-stricken, often demeaning struggle as a jazz artist, Thelonious Monk enjoyed a lengthy engagement at an East Village club known as The Five Spot. Monk recruited John Coltrane (seen above with Monk and Monk’s devoted wife, Nellie), who had recently been kicked out of Miles Davis’ quintet due to struggles with drugs and alcohol, to join his band. During their time together, the two men promptly joined the ranks of the biggest names in all of jazz.

Lines formed around the block to see Monk’s quartet at The Five Spot. Most of the people in those lines were genuine enthusiasts— Village bohemians who came to hear some of the most startlingly innovative, oddly swinging music in jazz history. Others, unfortunately, were more interested in gawking at Monk’s perceived eccentricities, judging him to be some sort of magically gifted wacko, rather than an intellectually curious, almost obsessively focused original who didn’t suffer fools gladly.

There are a lot of stories that illustrate where Monk was (usually) coming from. For instance, one evening the quartet played an entire set without Coltrane on the stand. When they finished, someone in the audience shouted, rather rudely, “We wanna hear Coltrane!” Monk replied simply, “Coltrane bust up his horn.”

After a cigarette break, Monk and the band returned to the tiny stage...again without Coltrane. The same guy immediately barked, “We want Coltrane!” and Monk again replied, “Coltrane bust up his horn.” Then the audience member, who was now really more of a heckler, asked, “Whatta ya mean, ‘Coltrane bust up his horn?’”

At this, Monk slowly rose from his piano seat, his tall frame looming over the front tables full of people, and said, “Mr. Coltrane plays a wind instrument. The sound is produced by blowing into it and opening different holes to let the air out. Over some of these holes is a felt pad. One of Mr. Coltrane’s felt pads has fallen off, and in order for him to get the sound he wants, so that we can make better music for you, he is in the back making a new one…you dig?”

On another occasion while playing the club, Monk suddenly left the building and no one could find him. Joe Termini, who ran the The Five Spot with his brother Iggy, eventually located Monk standing a few blocks away, gazing silently at the moon. Termini asked Monk if he was lost, to which the pianist replied, “No. I ain’t lost. I’m here. The Five Spot’s lost.”

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Here’s Monk playing his nifty composition, “Rhythm-a-Ning,” from his album, “Thelonious in Action,” which was recorded live at The Five Spot. It’s a marvelous document— there’s a lot of ambiance to it; you can sense the excitement in the air while the band plays.

The saxophonist on this occasion is Johnny “Little Giant” Griffin, and that’s Ahmed Abdul-Malik on bass, and Roy Haynes on drums. These guys could flat-out play, but that was a prerequisite if you had any hope of following Monk’s oblique concepts. On this track, Abdul-Malik, in particular, sounds possessed.

Coltrane, by the way, hadn’t bust up his horn again. Cleaned up and spiritually rejuvenated, he had left Monk to work once again with Miles, but would soon be leading his own group, and recording his landmark album, “Giant Steps.”

"Rhythm-a-Ning"

Holy cow. Order me another whiskey. Straight, no chaser.

Download: "Thelonious in Action" (1958) by Thelonious Monk.

Paul Tatara