Some of you will have already noticed that the original Wall of Paul slogan, "Paul Tatara on Movies (and so forth)," now reads "Paul Tatara on Pop Culture (and so forth)." In the winter of 2007, when we launched this site, I knew I'd initially draw readers who were familiar with my CNN and Goodauthority movie coverage, so I mostly wrote about movies. But I live in the same world everyone else inhabits, and I contemplate a lot of things besides motion pictures. It was my goal, then, to eventually examine music, sports, politics, religion, firecrackers, action figures, babies, fast food, heroes, hypocrites, air conditioning, parades, cream puffs, and a slew of other topics that have come to shape my consciousness. Thus the altered, and far more accurate, slogan.

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Download It #24: Thelonious Monk

June 16, 2009

We have a new feature at Wall of Paul. Now completely settled into the comfy chair of the 21st century, I’ll be able to post video links to the artists I choose to celebrate. Words are words, and I’m enamored of them. But sometimes, you just gotta see it to believe it.

With that in mind, I’d like to kick things off with this altogether groovy clip of Thelonious Monk, certainly the most visually entertaining of all jazz artists, playing his classic composition, “Round Midnight.”

I haven’t been able to track down the information, but my guess is this performance took place around 1966 or ’67. Somewhere around there. Monk was at it a long time before that, though.

For the first decade or so of his career, Monk was considered by many jazz aficionados to be a loose screw, an artist so out of synch with tradition you couldn’t get a grip on him. His skewed sense of time, the lingering spaces between notes, the “inappropriate” harmonic clusters that initially seem off-pitch, flat fingers slamming the keys to stress the piano’s often-ignored percussive nature, the foot sliding around to an apparent counter-melody no one else could hear— it was all too much for some people to take.

But Monk had ardent supporters in the jazz community - Coleman Hawkins, the legendary tenor man, was one of his earliest fans, and Bird and Diz dug him, too - and he saw no reason to alter his approach to the instrument. Rather than conform to fashion or attempt to appease naysayers with a few straight bop lines, Monk woke up in the morning, put on a shiny suit and obscure hat, and continued to be no one but Thelonious Monk. Day after day, year after year. It was the late 1950s before he finally received the acclaim he always deserved, and then it came pouring in.

Monk’s legendary apartment at W. 62nd St. and West End Avenue is situated right across the street from where I live, and I'm happy it's there. I think about him virtually every time I pass it, and have talked to people in the neighborhood who remember him walking through the Amsterdam Houses like a prince who occasionally stopped to shoot hoops with the kids. The courts are still there, too.

During his many lean years, when he either simply couldn’t get work or was forced into retreat due to a drug bust and the loss of his cabaret card, Monk would sit at his piano (half of which jutted into his wife Nellie’s kitchen), gaze at the picture of Billie Holiday that he tacked on the ceiling, and compose some of the more astonishing tunes in all of jazz history. “Ruby My Dear,” “Well You Needn’t,” “In Walked Bud,” “Straight No Chaser,” “Be-Ya,” “Monk’s Dream,” “Crepuscule with Nellie,” “Pannonica,” “Blue Monk” (my personal favorite), “Bemsha Swing,” and, of course, “Round Midnight,” are witty, endearing, often melancholy journeys into the heart and soul of a truly singular genius.

Here's a couple Monk tracks to get you started.

"Blue Monk"

"Straight No Chaser

Monk didn’t persist out of sheer stubbornness. The only sounds he wanted to play were the ones he heard in his own head, and he knew no one else could play them the way he did. There’s probably no bigger folly in the jazz world than the “Plays Monk” album that every piano player with a recording contract seems compelled to release sooner or later. Scores of pianists, many of them major artists in their own right, have attempted to recreate Monk’s cockeyed vibe, with little or no luck. There's always an overwhelming taste of NutraSweet to the results.

These discs would be more properly titled “(Insert Name) Pretends to be Monk,” a concept that runs directly counter to everything Monk stood for. There are twisting, fertile pathways running through Monk’s tunes that jazz combos will explore forever. But piano soloists might as well hang it up if they think they’re going to bring anything to the game that Monk didn’t already supply. Stories abound of pianists striking the exact notes on the exact keyboard that Monk had played moments earlier, only to hear a vague echo of what he had done.

Thelonious Monk is one of my heroes. He's the mascot of my imagination, the Godfather of how to do it any way you want and still get it dramatically right. I implore you to let him into your head, too. He swings in ways you never could have imagined on your own, and he deserves your embrace.

Monk released so many staggering albums, it’s hard to tell you where to begin. Don’t be concerned, by the way, that he plays the same 40 or so compositions over and over again; there’s an adventure every time out of the gate. You might as well start at the beginning and DOWNLOAD: Blue Note’s “Genius of Modern Music” collections, Vol. I & II (1947-51), then move on to “Thelonious Alone in San Francisco” (1959). If you want something from his worldwide standing ovation days, try the somewhat less titanic, but still essential, “Monk’s Dream” (1962) or “Criss Cross” (1962).

Paul Tatara

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