THELONIOUS MONK - Palo Alto
Impulse Records
Thelonious Monk - piano; Charlie Rouse - tenor saxophone; Larry Gales - bass; Ben Riley - drums
Recorded 27 October 1968
It is well worth telling the story behind this album. Monk was not particularly well treated by Sony/Columbia as he came to the end of his contract in the late sixties. He had been ill, his record sales were down and Columbia were thinking of recording him with Blood, Sweat and Tears or Taj Mahal. Fortunately, those plans were aborted. Almost as bad, Oliver Nelson was contracted to arrange an album eventually called Monk’s Blues. It was bland. Finally, in a desperate effort to increase Monk’s popularity, the marketing department brought out the album ‘Underground’ with one of the most bizarre and offensive covers ever to feature a jazz musician.
Danny Scher a sixteen-year-old student at Palo Alto High came up with the idea of inviting Monk to perform at his college. Monk was due to play at The Jazz Workshop in San Francisco just up the road from the college. The deal was done. The high school’s janitor agreed to get the piano tuned, in return he wanted permission to record the concert. The only problem was creating an audience. Then, as now, racial tensions, were infecting the area. East Palo Alto was a largely black area and Scher was asked by the police not to put up posters advertising the concert in that part of town. He disobeyed, but people were not convinced that the concert would happen.
Scher had arranged for his brother to drive the band from San Francisco. As they pulled into the car park the waiting audience could see the musicians and were happy to pay for tickets.
Everyone who listens to live jazz realises that there are many factors which raise a performance from the mediocre to the special. You know it when you hear it, but it is difficult often to define what it is. Monk’s performance that afternoon was out of his ordinary; it was raised a level. He didn’t play anything new but he could well have been inspired by the occasion, working in a different context, working for a young man who had taken a gamble on employing his hero.
Charlie Rouse could play ‘Ruby My Dear’ in his sleep. Rouse spent eleven years (59-70) with Monk: dependable, underrated, and inventive negotiating all the thorny themes with assurance. His playing here and throughout the session has an easy brilliance and poise that is characteristic of his work. There is a freshness as Monk pushes through the line of the theme.
‘Well You Needn’t’ has Monk nudging the Rouse solo before giving his own take. Monk was good at creating individualistic themes but was not good at varying the presentation, the inevitable bass and drum solos take up time without showing much originality.
Monk loved ‘Don’t Blame Me’. He plays it solo and it is the highlight of the session. The complex surprising, clear twists that he imposes on the tune are delightful and there is a sense of Monk’s complete involvement in the piece. There is concentration, sharpness, joy, enjoyment, art, musicality, the logical angularity.
Sometimes Monk can seem to run out of inspiration and there are a few moments in the middle of ‘Blue Monk’ where he does and eventually rescues himself with repeated single notes to emphasise the rhythm. Gates during his solo makes his bass sound like a koto.
First recorded in 1941 ‘Epistrophy’ is probably derived from ‘epistrophe’ words or expression repeated at the end of a sentence or phrase for effect. Monk’s solo is astringent and cogent.
‘I Love You Sweetheart Of All My Dreams’, a tune from 1927, is probably a strange choice to finish a concert attended by largely young people. It is just a fragment. Apparently, Monk was worried about getting back to the Jazz Workshop for the evening show and the concert ends as someone, may be Monk, says: ‘We have to hurry back’.
The janitor who recorded the concert has not been discovered. He would have reason to be pleased. Gale’s bass and Riley’s drums are too far forward but not enough to cause problems. The piano comes across well and occasionally Monk’s foot stamps can be heard.
‘One of the best live recordings I’ve ever heard by Thelonious…I wasn’t even aware of my dad playing a high school gig, but he and the band were on it.’ Observed T.S. Monk, son of Thelonious. ‘When I first heard the tape, from the first measure, I knew my father was feeling really good.’
As a composer Monk ranks with Jelly Roll Morton and Ellington. As an interpreter of his own work he is without parallel. This forty-seven minutes, an addition to his output, is invaluable.
Reviewed by Jack Kenny
Impulse Records
Thelonious Monk - piano; Charlie Rouse - tenor saxophone; Larry Gales - bass; Ben Riley - drums
Recorded 27 October 1968
It is well worth telling the story behind this album. Monk was not particularly well treated by Sony/Columbia as he came to the end of his contract in the late sixties. He had been ill, his record sales were down and Columbia were thinking of recording him with Blood, Sweat and Tears or Taj Mahal. Fortunately, those plans were aborted. Almost as bad, Oliver Nelson was contracted to arrange an album eventually called Monk’s Blues. It was bland. Finally, in a desperate effort to increase Monk’s popularity, the marketing department brought out the album ‘Underground’ with one of the most bizarre and offensive covers ever to feature a jazz musician.
Danny Scher a sixteen-year-old student at Palo Alto High came up with the idea of inviting Monk to perform at his college. Monk was due to play at The Jazz Workshop in San Francisco just up the road from the college. The deal was done. The high school’s janitor agreed to get the piano tuned, in return he wanted permission to record the concert. The only problem was creating an audience. Then, as now, racial tensions, were infecting the area. East Palo Alto was a largely black area and Scher was asked by the police not to put up posters advertising the concert in that part of town. He disobeyed, but people were not convinced that the concert would happen.
Scher had arranged for his brother to drive the band from San Francisco. As they pulled into the car park the waiting audience could see the musicians and were happy to pay for tickets.
Everyone who listens to live jazz realises that there are many factors which raise a performance from the mediocre to the special. You know it when you hear it, but it is difficult often to define what it is. Monk’s performance that afternoon was out of his ordinary; it was raised a level. He didn’t play anything new but he could well have been inspired by the occasion, working in a different context, working for a young man who had taken a gamble on employing his hero.
Charlie Rouse could play ‘Ruby My Dear’ in his sleep. Rouse spent eleven years (59-70) with Monk: dependable, underrated, and inventive negotiating all the thorny themes with assurance. His playing here and throughout the session has an easy brilliance and poise that is characteristic of his work. There is a freshness as Monk pushes through the line of the theme.
‘Well You Needn’t’ has Monk nudging the Rouse solo before giving his own take. Monk was good at creating individualistic themes but was not good at varying the presentation, the inevitable bass and drum solos take up time without showing much originality.
Monk loved ‘Don’t Blame Me’. He plays it solo and it is the highlight of the session. The complex surprising, clear twists that he imposes on the tune are delightful and there is a sense of Monk’s complete involvement in the piece. There is concentration, sharpness, joy, enjoyment, art, musicality, the logical angularity.
Sometimes Monk can seem to run out of inspiration and there are a few moments in the middle of ‘Blue Monk’ where he does and eventually rescues himself with repeated single notes to emphasise the rhythm. Gates during his solo makes his bass sound like a koto.
First recorded in 1941 ‘Epistrophy’ is probably derived from ‘epistrophe’ words or expression repeated at the end of a sentence or phrase for effect. Monk’s solo is astringent and cogent.
‘I Love You Sweetheart Of All My Dreams’, a tune from 1927, is probably a strange choice to finish a concert attended by largely young people. It is just a fragment. Apparently, Monk was worried about getting back to the Jazz Workshop for the evening show and the concert ends as someone, may be Monk, says: ‘We have to hurry back’.
The janitor who recorded the concert has not been discovered. He would have reason to be pleased. Gale’s bass and Riley’s drums are too far forward but not enough to cause problems. The piano comes across well and occasionally Monk’s foot stamps can be heard.
‘One of the best live recordings I’ve ever heard by Thelonious…I wasn’t even aware of my dad playing a high school gig, but he and the band were on it.’ Observed T.S. Monk, son of Thelonious. ‘When I first heard the tape, from the first measure, I knew my father was feeling really good.’
As a composer Monk ranks with Jelly Roll Morton and Ellington. As an interpreter of his own work he is without parallel. This forty-seven minutes, an addition to his output, is invaluable.
Reviewed by Jack Kenny
