Thelonious Monk - Monk's Blues - 1968 (1994)

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Thelonious Monk - Monk's Blues - 1968 (1994)

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Product Description: Recorded in Hollywood, California on November 19 & 20, 1968. Includes liner notes by Mark Humphrey and John Snyder. Digitally remastered by Vic Anesini (1993, Sony Music Studios, New York, New York). Always on the outlook for ways to expand his musical palette, Monk asked arranger/conductor Oliver Nelson in 1968 to outfit some of his compositions for a big band. The results, performed here with a 16-piece ensemble, create an odd amalgam, at once feeling like a throwback to Ellingtonian big band scale and impact, and remaining wild and slippery with the avant-surprises of Monk's tunes. The success of this experiment depends on the prejudices of the listener. Many lovers of modern jazz, and the fierce intensity of the quartet or quintet, shy from larger orchestral arrangements with a puritan revulsion, favoring Monk's traditionally smaller ensembles. Fans of the big band sound, however, may find Monk's challenging inventions more palatable in this mode, as they are at once larger and more streamlined. The constant, of course, is Monk's playing, from its assault on intervals to its loopy, impassioned execution. The CD also contains two classic tracks not included on the original release, "Blue Monk" and "Round Midnight." Whether you're for or against the big-band approach, MONK'S BLUES is an intriguing collection of powerful recordings that put a new spin on familiar songs. This is part of the Columbia Jazz Masterpieces series.

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Thelonious Monk - Monk's Blues - 1968 (1994)

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Review: I've been listening to this for the past 30 years, during which Thelonious Monk has always been my favorite pianist and composer. It is very far from my favorite Monk albums, but not as horrid as the jazz snobs may tell you it is. By 1968 Thelonious Monk was no longer trendy, and jazz was proclaimed dead, or at least smelling funny. Columbia Records had Monk under contract and hoped for something other than the typical brilliance the Monk quartet with Charlie Rouse, Ben Riley, and Larry Gales had been performing live for years. Monk's style hadn't changed much for 20 years. Some A&R man thought that it would be interesting to put some thelonious assaults at the keyboard in front of a Hollywood studio big band arranged by Oliver Nelson. For some strange reason, Monk agreed to do this, even allowing the inclusion of two compositions by producer Teo Macero. Monk never made a record like this before or since. For most listeners, this is an Oliver Nelson period piece, like Jimmy Smith's "Monster" from 2 years before where someone convinced another keyboard wizard to play "The Theme from the Munsters" and the latest James Bond movie theme songs. Nelson's simplified arrangement of "Brilliant Corners" overlooks the way Monk composed it, perhaps since it's such a tricky tune, which couldn't be mastered by a large band with limited rehearsal time. Macero's "Just a Glance at Love" is embarrassing, and I think Monk obliged his boss just as he must have obliged drunks who requested "Melancholy Baby" on paid gigs in his earlier years. Once Columbia realized that the stubborn individualist Monk acquiesced to this, they tried to get him to make an album of Beatles tunes. They actually sent someone to Monk's apartment to play him the songs, assuming that Monk couldn't read music or figure out the songs his son had been listening to. Monk promptly cancelled his Columbia contract. Did Monk sell out with this one? I'd say no. His playing is up to his usual standards, if you can ignore the crass background. He seems to have fun with his runs on "Blue Monk" and even "Consecutive Seconds" where he is telling his producer that he's still the onliest despite the rock beat and the commercial band behind him. Alter-ego Charlie Rouse is also true to himself despite the environment. The album ends with my favorite version of "Round Midnight", included here because Columbia realized they had never recorded a solo piano version of this famous composition, and Monk gave it his best. I'd surmise that Monk's band appeared on this album out of obligation, and not because they needed to cash in or try to appeal to a new audience. Thelonious Monk never made a bad record. If you want a "sellout" by a jazz artist in need of money or looking to find a larger audience, listen to Chet Baker's "Mariachi Brass", "The Return of Bud Powell" (Roulette), Freddie Hubbard's "Windjammer", or Pharoah Sanders' "Love Will Find A Way". "Monk's Blues" gets the worst reviews of any of Monk's albums, but has some solid playing and provides the only glimpse of how Thelonious dealt with the squares who tried profit by making him even hipper. Monk had the last laugh on this, and I enjoy laughing with him almost 40 years later.

Note: Credit to kruno, the original uploader.

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Thelonious Monk - Monk's Blues - 1968 (1994)

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Thelonious Monk - Monk's Blues - 1968 (1994)

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Thelonious Monk - Monk's Blues - 1968 (1994)

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