On May 26, Craft Recordings’ relaunch of the Original Jazz Classic series continues with a reissue of Thelonious Monk with John Coltrane on 180 gram black vinyl tucked into a tip-on jacket with an obi strip. It offers essential documentation of a key collaboration in Modern Jazz.
By the latter half of the 1950s the tide was turning in Thelonious Monk’s favor. Sure, many folks were still playing catch-up ball, but to give just three examples of how the man was slowly moving from the fringes of obscurity, ’56 saw the release of his first big seller Brilliant Corners (with Sonny Rollins on tenor sax), ’57 found him holding down a six month residency at New York’s Five Spot, and ’58 saw the first release dedicated entirely to Monk compositions from another artist, soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy’s excellent Reflections.
That Five Spot engagement featured John Coltrane in a fine quartet that managed a slight bit of recording for the Riverside label, though contractual problems hindered its release until the Jazzland imprint issued it as Thelonious Monk with John Coltrane in 1961. Expanded upon in the digital era to include a performance of “Monk’s Mood,” that bonus cut, while certainly welcome, is absent here, as the original sequencing delivers a portrait of Monk’s talents with succinct, graspable functionality.
The ’57 Five Spot quartet is the core of this record, featuring mainstays Wilbur Ware on bass and Shadow Wilson on drums tackling three Monk tunes with the rich interaction of a working band. In addition, Coltrane and Ware appear on two cuts as part of a septet that includes heavy hitters such as multi-instrumentalist and composer Gigi Gryce, drum kingpin Art Blakey, underrated trumpeter Ray Copeland, and one of the greatest of all saxophonists Coleman Hawkins (this is essentially the band that appeared on the ’57 LP Monk’s Music, though Coltrane’s name couldn’t appear on the cover).
Bringing the track count to a killer half-dozen is “Functional,” a solo piece originally from the Thelonious Himself album. That ’57 Riverside LP is all solo with one exception, the aforementioned bonus cut “Monk’s Mood,” which features the input of Coltrane and Ware. And so, those unfamiliar with Thelonious Monk with John Coltrane just might be thinking it’s a bit of a mixed bag, but let me emphasize: artistic range.
The quartet cuts, particularly the side openers “Ruby, My Dear” and “Nutty,” make it clear that Monk was as adept as his contemporaries Miles or Mingus at leading a long running band, and the septet stuff shows that he could hang in a more studio-crafted environment, even one that brandishes the big-band-ish Benny Golson-like feel that Gryce so often brings to the table.
And that solo track, the LP’s closer, finds the pianist disassembling and rebuilding the blues in his own grand image. It’s also indicative of Monk’s slowly changing fortunes that Hawkins, one of his earliest employers and advocates, was invited to join the septet in a distinguished supporting role. Coltrane sounds quite fine here, though finest on the quartet cuts, particularly on “Ruby, My Dear,” where his strong tone is already hinting at the balladic potency that would turn up just a couple years later on “Naima.”
All the contributors are in strong form, displaying the sort of no-nonsense post-bop professionalism that helped make this era the heyday for mainstream jazz. But of course, Monk was never really of the mainstream, even as the effect his compositional greatness had on the heart of jazz culture is simply immeasurable.
Indeed, 2005’s Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane at Carnegie Hall, which presented unearthed tapes from a Thanksgiving 1957 performance, stands as one of the most important jazz discoveries of the 21st century. And as such, it couldn’t help but steal some thunder from the LP under review here. And that’s not really cool for a rather big reason. Specifically, this quartet isn’t the Carnegie Hall quartet, since Ahmed Abdul-Malik replaces Wilbur Ware on bass.
For that matter, was the quartet that started the famous ’57 Five Spot run the same as the one that ended it? Were they even the same quartet night for night, set for set? Not to bring out the heavy guns, but Heraclitus was surely correct in regard to stepping in the same river twice: you can’t. So when it comes to a couple of fathoms-deep dudes like Monk and Coltrane, the idea that one (admittedly masterful) Carnegie Hall gig adequately summarizes their collaboration is a fallacy.
For ears not well versed in the fruits of their righteous alliance, Thelonious Monk with John Coltrane is a splendid place to begin. A person could spend a few lifetimes branching out from here.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A
