Friday, June 26, 2020

Chasing the Elusive Monk

Notes on documentary: Thelonious Monk: Straight, No Chaser

How cool would it have been if Thelonious Monk had married Fontella Bass? Two of the most melodious names in music history. They probably would have named their daughter, Melodious. Okay world, meet, Melodious Bass Monk.

FANTASY SEQUENCE:

An evening at the Apollo Theater…

MC: “Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the newest star in the galaxy of jazz singers, Miss Melodious Bass Monk, singing her Daddy’s composition, ‘round Midnight, to the downbeat of Momma’s, Rescue Me.”

I am not a big jazz fan; but I love Duke Ellington, Billie Holliday, Chet Baker, Coltrane, Stan Getz and, of course, Thelonious Monk.

In the documentary, Thelonious Monk: Straight, No Chaser, he, and others, who were described as the earliest practitioners of bebop, were the first jazz performers who didn’t play necessarily to “entertain” the audience, but to express their musical artistry, simply for the sake of expressing it..

In many ways, those bebop jazz artists were like the Impressionist painters of the late 19th century. They were less interested in finding wealthy patrons, or some Pope, to commission them to produce public works of art for the consumption of the masses. These guys were more fascinated with how light and color, along with new techniques of applying paint to a canvas resulted in something more intimately personal, rather than traditional, crowd pleasing artwork in a Paris salon, that would meet with the belching approval of close-minded, creatively constipated art critics.

Thelonious Monk and Vincent Van Gogh are kindred spirits. Both struggled with mental health demons, and their sanity, to find within themselves, notes, colors, shapes, and sounds to create unique, influential, enduring art.

Both succeeded.

Jazz, like its contemporary art form, the cinema, is inherently political. All jazz artists are underground, anti-establishment rebels protesting the strictures and structures of conventional music norms, in dingy, smoke-filled cafes and nightclubs.

Most were exercising their right to Free Musical Speech and Artistic Expression. Some, like Thelonious Monk, became the Poet Laureates of Jazz.

What I have always found inspirational about Monk was a statement he made that his often seemingly asymmetrical, discordant compositions which were, on closer examination, mathematically logical chord progressions, precise, but intricately complicated meditations, like a  Da Vinci drawing of a futuristic craft that would be powered by solar winds, was, at its core, his life-long search for the notes between the keys of his piano. Metaphysical motivation from a true poet. Yeah, as a writer, I want to find those hidden, abstract words between the keyboard. Drive my editor and Spell Check crazy.

It was obvious Monk was mentally ill. On stage, he would get up from his piano, during a solo from another band member, and turn in slow, clumsy circles, like an autistic toddler.

He suffered from bouts of depression and mania. Manic depressive. Today, bipolar. At a certain point in his career, he said he did not want to play music anymore. He did not say it like he was burned out or had nothing else to compose. He just did not feel like playing music anymore. Thelonious had become a bored child who no longer had any use for his favorite teddy bear.

Thelonious Monk died in 1982. He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, went into a coma, and died two days later, peacefully in his sleep.

Legend has it, the coroner listed the time of death as ‘round midnight.

No comments:

Post a Comment