

The melody itself, which is rather lighthearted and even jaunty, doesn’t become readily apparent until saxophonist Johnny Griffin joins him, and even then Monk keeps pounding away at a kind of chord structure that would fit much more comfortably within Schoenberg than with a mellow jazz quartet. Monk starts off playing some haphazard jabs of atonality that almost completely mask the melody hiding underneath. Look to the example of “Nutty”, the first track here. He is more than capable of playing ‘normally’ if he so desires. Due to the conditioning of listeners’ ears towards only hearing certain rhythms, certain harmonies and certain intervals, Monk’s comping can be extremely jarring until the listener is finally clued into the fact that, yes, he is playing that way on purpose. Simply put, the way he plays sounds, upon first listen, not only foreign but inherently wrong and offensively bad. Monk’s style of playing has been called ‘nearly impossible to imitate’ with good reason.

Monk was also a respected luminary of the jazz world, as many musicians like Bud Powell and John Coltrane held residence in his band before going on to their own successes. More than any other member of the bebop class (save perhaps Parker and Gillespie) his compositions moved the genre forward and are still a necessary step in the education of the modern jazz musician. Though prized for his ability at his instrument and his comping skills (largely being responsible for introducing such previously unusable things like the tritone and the minor second into the jazz lexicon), it was truly the material he contributed to the overall jazz canon that assured his place as one of the all-time greats.

Beyond the funny hats, beyond his tendency to indiscriminately bash away at his piano, was the inimitable sense of melody and sophistication that went into his craft. Thelonious Monk was one of the great eccentrics of jazz music.
