2017 is Thelonious Monk
's hundredth anniversary year and as good a time as any to ask whether he has anything to teach young, ambitious, up-and-coming jazz musicians today.
Monk's recordings still nurture and entertain countless jazz fans, and the clarity and directness of his conception makes him a wonderful "introductory" artist for newbies. Gigging jazz musicians draw from the well of his compositions to fill their sets, and it's hard to imagine a future where "'Round Midnight" or "Straight No Chaser" isn't being played in a club or concert hall somewhere on earth on any given Friday night.
But what if you are a young musician trying to make your mark on jazz and mostly interested in featuring your own compositions? Can Monk teach you anything, aside from the not particularly helpful insight that it's good to be a genius?
Here are four lessons young jazz musicians might draw from Monk's career. They are offered from the perspective of someone who listens to and thinks about jazz a lot, but doesn't try to make a living from it. There are economic considerations in playing one's own compositions, but those aren't addressed here. Lesson One: Ask yourself, am I a composer?
It's interesting to contemplate how we'd regard Monk if he'd never written a song. He's a distinctive stylist, but would he have the same place in jazz history if was purely a pianist?
In jazz, it's fairly unusual to make an equal mark as a player and composer. Duke Ellington
was a fine pianist but known more as a bandleader and song writer. Thad Jones
became so identified with his big-band writing that his excellence as a cornetist was often overlooked. They are double-threat exceptions to the general rule that musicians tend to be better at one job than the other. Figures like Tadd Dameron
or Gil Evans
are more common. Both were important composer / arrangers not remembered for their playing.
Put brieflyit's tough to be a good player. It's tough to be a good composer. Doing both is double tough. So the first question to ask isdo you want to divide your energies that way? There's nothing wrong with focusing on becoming the best player and improviser you can be. Lesson Two: If you are a composer, during your lifetime it's up to you to build your canon.
Monk, due to happenstance, badly treated mental illness, or personality type, only composed around sixty songs over his thirty-year career. Of those, maybe twenty or so have become central to the canonwhich may be the most amazing batting average in jazz.
Monk had faith in those songs. He recorded them again, and again, and again, until they stuck. He recorded "'Round Midnight" half a dozen times, for example, before his Columbia contract brought him a wide audience. Would there have been less repetition if he'd composed more? Probably, but that may well have slowed down the canonization of his best songs. Even an insanely prolific composer (and borrower) like Ellington was careful to return to his best-known older compositions throughout his career (sometimes in radically re-worked arrangements).
In pop, there are a hundred "one hit wonders" for every Lennon or McCartney. In jazz, even composition-oriented artists tend to get their work boiled down to one or two great songs over time (think John Lewis
and "Django" or Dave Brubeck
and "Your Own Sweet Way"). Anyone who writes more than one or two jazz tunes that anybody but the composer wishes to play is some kind of anomaly. The Monks and Ellingtons are the exceptions, not the rule.
The point is that sorting will happen, so start thinking carefully about which songs you've written that might be worth returning to and recording multiple times. Start building a canon. Time helps in this process. It may be tough to decide which of the compositions on a given album are "stayers" until the album is well in the rear-view mirror. But at least ask yourself the question. Lesson Three: Don't fear the contrafact.
Which Monk song of the following pairs gets played more often: "Blue Monk" or "Brilliant Corners"? "Evidence" or "Jackie-ing"? "In Walked Bud" or "Work"?
The first one in each pair, right? As innovative a composer as Monk was, he didn't shy away from writing contrafacts and blues, and those remain some of his best-loved and most played compositions. They testify to his amazing melodic and rhythmic inventiveness. His tunes based on rhythm changes, for instance, each have a distinctive personality.