Thelonious Monk

Art by Tim Foley

Thelonious Monk

Piano · born 10 October 1917 died 17 February 1982

Click for Richard Cook Bio

For better or otherwise, the music of this strange, contradictory man has become perhaps the central text in jazz composition after Ellington. He was born Thelonious Monk in Rocky Mount, North Carolina, and added 'Sphere' as his middle name while in his teens. His family moved to New York when he was four, and he began playing piano in church when a boy, sometimes touring with an evangelist. By the early 40s he was working as the house pianist at the Harlem club Minton's Playhouse, where he, Kenny Clarke (who played drums in the group) and Dizzy Gillespie began working out – on the bandstand and elsewhere – the theoretical and practical formulae which would lead to the birth of bebop. After a brief period as pianist in Lucky Millinder's band, he joined the Cootie Williams orchestra in 1944, a band which made the first recording of Monk's latterly celebrated ballad Round About Midnight. Still virtually unknown to the jazz public, he then played in Coleman Hawkins's small group during 1944–6, and by now word about his unpredictable prowess had got out: Ike Quebec suggested to Alfred Lion of Blue Note that he record this unusual pianist, and when Lion began recording Monk he was so excited by the initial results that he quickly took down more sessions, all of which eventually emerged in the LP era as Genius Of Modern Music Vols 1 & 2 (Blue Note). Monk's style was a unique assemblage of old and new: he could sound like the stride piano masters, and there was a powerful Duke Ellington influence at work, but what he played was angular, analytical, pared away: he seemed to want to get to the bones of material which was already fat-free. While he appeared to embody some aspects of bebop, in other ways he seemed set against its jittery spillage of notes. Themes such as Off Minor, Epistrophy, Misterioso and Well You Needn't were as clipped and inscrutable as their titles. Yet his sideman work with Charlie Parker – on airshots and on the 1950 session which produced the likes of Bloomdido – showed how skilfully he could work with bop's premier improviser.

In 1951 he was briefly imprisoned on a probably trumped-up narcotics charge, and lost his New York cabaret card as a result, so for a few years he had to settle for working on record rather than on a bandstand, and in 1952 he signed a new deal with Prestige Records. His appearance on a 1954 date with Miles Davis prickled with tension, but the music was magnificent. Then Orrin Keepnews signed him to Riverside, where he produced some of his most finished and rich recordings: the group date Brilliant Corners, the solo Thelonious Himself and the quartet session with the saxophonist who at this period started working with him on live dates, Thelonious Monk With John Coltrane (1956–7). His composing touched on a broader range, from the excruciatingly difficult Brilliant Corners and Gallop's Gallop to almost catchy pieces such as Rhythm-A-Ning and We See. It had taken some time, but Monk had somehow become a popular figure: he toured with his quartet (Charlie Rouse became his long-time horn player in 1958), had a celebrated concert of his works in an orchestral setting at New York's Town Hall (1959), and eventually moved on from Riverside to sign to the major label Columbia in 1962. Yet this marked the beginning of a creative impasse. His composing slowed to barely a trickle of new pieces, and his live performances began to take on a rote nature with the quartet, although it was still the kind of music which many aspiring bands would have loved to have got near.

The Columbia albums drifted towards studio chores, although Monk's penchant for throwing in an oddball standard (such as his cruel portrayal of Lulu's Back In Town, 1964) freshened up some of the programmes. By the end of the decade, his strange demeanour was becoming increasingly bizarre. On the 1971 Giants Of Jazz tour, Dave Liebman remembered him as being 'like Lon Chaney', lying flat out on tables most of the time and groaning if spoken to. Admirers such as Steve Lacy – who once had a band which played nothing but Monk tunes – helped disseminate his work further, but Monk himself seemed to have lost interest in his own music. He made a final appearance at Newport in 1976, but Whitney Balliett found it 'mechanical and uncertain', and thereafter he retreated to the home of a long-time patron and friend, Baroness Nica de Koenigswarter, in New Jersey: Monk's wife Nellie (for whom he wrote Crepuscule With Nellie) visited to cook for him, a strange arrangement, and Monk died there in 1982, having not touched a piano for years and seemingly entirely withdrawn from the world.

Since his death, there has been much conjecture as to whether he may have suffered from a mental illness for a long time, the old 'eccentricities' a symptom of a genuine malaise. His legacy is a book of some 70 compositions, of which one at least, Round Midnight, has become the most celebrated and frequently covered jazz ballad of the modern era. If he was still comparatively neglected as a composer at the time of his death, that has now entirely changed: his music is seen almost as a testing ground for modern musicians, and everyone has a go at one of the tunes sooner or later. It is a collective resource which, for its infinite variety within a small, carefully codified point of view, is unrivalled in the jazz idiom. And even as that resource continues to nourish improvisers to this day, it is probably best heard through the composer's own irreducible interpretations.

Biography from Richard Cook's Jazz Encyclopedia (2005).

If you'd like more information, check out The New Grove Dictionary of Jazz (2002) or The Biographical Encyclopedia of Jazz (2007), both of which are still in print.