Friday, August 26, 2005

Intro of Self

I come closer and closer each day to being the spitting image of my grandfather (I was raised by my grandparents after my parents divorced when I was four.) He is a natural storyteller, and he can find in his assortment of homespun tales and common sense parables the one that suits any situation imaginable. “There is something to learn with each challenge,” he would say to me when I felt that the pressure was too much and I could not withstand the strain. Alongside advice of this nature, he would and still does state that “A wise man learns not only from his own mistakes but from the mistakes of others.” He uses long pauses to build the dramatics and the solemnity, while adding side notes (tiny stories within the main story) to assist in the complete understanding of the idea that he is conveying through the tale. As a kid I hated his long, arid stories and his twisted, confusing parables; I--for most of the time--could not find the correlation between the present issue at hand and the wordy parable that he would choose to explain and express his view of it. However, age and responsibility have brought with them the full circle of understanding to my inferior, adolescent thoughts of the world at large.

His wisdom, which he tried relentlessly to instill in me, is coming to the surface little by little with the passing of each hazy day that flies on past me. I, being raised to revaluate the things I readily believed and being confident in myself to ask if I did not fully grasp the content presented to me, find the search for knowledge to be a rewarding quest. Richard P. Feynman, a mathematician and physicist, said that people are entertained when they learn even the smallest amount of information about something they did not know previously.

In my high school years in the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia, I first began my love for the English language. Coach Bill Arnold, my 9th grade English teacher, was the first teacher to push me and open me up to the world of literature. He taught me how to diagram sentences, and thanks to him, I had a prom date that very year. Joe Vincell, my 12th grade Literature teacher, moved me from the timeless classics of the common man like Jack London and Ernest Hemingway to the true mastery of craftsmen like John Milton and William Shakespeare. He supported my writings and was willing assist me by sitting down with me to discuss any grammatical or stylistic problems that would arise. Mrs. Taylor, my English 101 teacher, was a pain. I do not mean she did not know the rules of the English language or was not friendly, but she knew exactly what students commonly missed on her first of four four page essays; however, she would not let the class know until she handed the essay back--all but two of the students failed it. The idea of setting up one’s students for absolute failure is repugnant in my view.

Blogging is something I just got into about six months ago, and I would use my site as a site to post my essays on any topic that my little heart dared. Within the several months that I have been blogging, I have researched any papers ranging from religion and the Constitution to racism and the Rebel flag to Jazz great Thelonious Monk and inventor Johann Gutenberg. I love reading; it can be tiresome but always enjoyable. I read two books at a time--one fiction, one non-fiction. Breaking them up gives me a weekly variety.

I am an English major with emphasis on writing; my aspirations are to fully round my grammatical and mechanical skills and improve my literary abilities. I am also double minoring in sociology and journalism; I have plans to go into print journalism for my master’s.


This is the first essay I had to turn in here at Marshall. I got it back today, and I got a 100% on it. It is a nice way to kick off my Marshall career. I think I should thank Mr. Joe Vincell and Coach Bill Arnold for their largesse--that is, for honoring me by sharing their time, patience, and knowledge--of the English language--to a young dull-witted student; however, my disapproval of Mrs. Taylor’s plebeian teaching methods still need some due gratitude. Knowing this is just my first Marshall grade, it may seem that I am overly excited, but I assure you I am not, it is only that I am pleased with the grade--I do not feel this is my best writing, but that is how life is.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

All That Jazz

Jazz musicians hear harmonies and rhythms differently than the average commonplace man. They mentality can hear the complexities and locate the strange usage of pitches or the rhythmical entanglements of each inter-beat. It is like the beauty of an amber field in the early morning hours of late summer or the deepest blue sky after the first fallen snow on the Appalachian mountains near our West Virginia childhood homes. Jazz--with all its ins and outs and little minutiae coloristic detail--paints a world of beauty, that is a world unfamiliar to those who are not likeminded as those who never experienced an Appalachian snow or the sight a flowing field of amber wheat for themsleves. Jazz is an art for the artist. Jazz is the poem for the poet. Jazz is the complexity for the complex. Jazz is the spirit for the spiritual. Jazz is the love for the lovers. Jazz is the lonely for the lonesome. Jazz is the life for the living.


A friend posted on his blog his distaste for Thelonious Monk, a Jazz Musician (read previous post.) I am not after him for this blemish, which now I associated with his character. (That was a joke.) So, I left a comment on that post and here is what I left. I hope my point is understandable, if not I will explain it with this: Jazz can only be appreciated like the snow on the West Virginia mountains or the wheat field that the wind surfs out on the western prairies, and that appreciation can only be because of self witnessing.

“Before one can love or hate, one must first understand.” -- Leonardo da Vinci, if my memory serves me right.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Thelonious

A young boy, sitting at a piano placed to the side of a stage in some smoke-filled barroom, was thought a beginner as he commenced to playing. He was criticized for his use of harmonic dissonance, sloppy rhythms, and the open embracement of silence. Thelonious Monk, now hailed as one the architects of Bebop, was the kid at the piano in that New York bar in the late 1930’s. It is, now, almost incomprehensible to have ever considered Monk to be a beginner. His creativeness is now understood as genius, yet still not understood in its entire.

Thelonious Monk was born October 17, 1917, in North Carolina’s Rocky Mount to Barbara Batts and Thelonious Monk, Sr. He only spent four years of his life in Rocky Mount until his mother and two siblings, Marion and Thomas, relocated to New York City; however, unlike the rest of the southern black migrants, who were heading straight to Harlem, Barbara and her children settled in Manhattan on West 63rd Street (near the Hudson River). Monk’s father arrived in Manhattan sometime around Monk’s third year there. Monk’s father played harmonica (“mouth” harp) and piano constantly; nevertheless, his father’s consistent health problems finally forced his father to return to his native South.

Monk had a brief stint on the trumpet before settling squarely on the piano as his musical voice and intellectual outlet. The piano allowed for tonal extensions thus lush chords and experimental harmonies. At the time his sister, Marion, was already enrolled in piano lessons, and her instructor agreed to take on another pupil--the nine-year-old Monk began his piano exploration and musical endeavors. Somewhere in his early teens, according to Robin D. G. Kelley Ph.D., a Professor of Anthropology, African American Studies, and Jazz Studies at Columbia University, Monk commenced to “playing rent parties, sitting in on organ and piano at a local Baptist church, and was reputed to have won several ‘amateur hour’ competitions at the Apollo Theater.”

Monk, being a very able student, was admitted to Peter Stuyvesant--one of New York City’s best high schools--but drop out to chase his musical aspirations by the end of his sophomore year. He joined a band that backed an evangelist and faith healer; they journeyed around from town to town spreading “the Word” and joyous tunes to many. After two years of relentless traveling, monk returned to New York City and founded a quartet. They played local blues bars and jazz halls up to the spring of 1941, when Monk became the pianist for the house band at Minton’s Playhouse in Harlem.

Kelley describes the setting, “Minton’s, legend has it, was where the ‘bebop revolution’ began. The after-hours jam sessions at Minton’s, along with similar musical gatherings at Monroe’s Uptown House, Dan Wall’s Chili Shack, among others, attracted a new generation of musicians brimming with fresh ideas about harmony and rhythm--notably Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Mary Lou Williams, Kenny Clarke, Oscar Pettiford, Max Roach, Tadd Dameron, and Monk’s close friend and fellow pianist, Bud Powell. Monk’s harmonic innovations proved fundamental to the development of modern jazz in this period.” Kelley also adds that Monk was “[a]nointed by some critics as the ‘High Priest of Bebop,’” for “several of his compositions (‘52nd Street Theme,’ ‘Round Midnight,’ ‘Epistrophy’ [co-written with Kenny Clarke and originally titled ‘Fly Right’ and then ‘Iambic Pentameter’], ‘I Mean You’) were favorites among his contemporaries.”

Monk’s playing style was one that differentiated him from his contemporaries--in the sense that he viewed music through not only the eyes of a player but the eyes of a composer. Yet, his perpetual and bewildering complexities never were enough to hold him back from the rawness of a lyrical blues line; he believed taste was more valuable in a piece than virtuosity. “In 1947 Monk made his first recordings as a leader for Blue Note. These albums are some of the earliest documents of his unique compositional and improvisational style, both of which employed unusual repetition of phrases, an offbeat use of space, and joyfully dissonant sounds,” excerpt from Monk’s biography on Monk Institute. Kelley continues with Monk "combined an active right hand with an equally active left hand, fusing stride and angular rhythms that utilized the entire keyboard. And in an era when fast, dense, virtuosic solos were the order of the day, Monk was famous for his use of space and silence.”

Monk remained moderately marginal throughout the 1940’s and the early 1950’s in comparison to his fellow jazz musicians. Although he played with some of the biggest names of the time like well-known drummer Art Blakey, legendary trumpeter and bandleader Miles Davis, and star saxophonists like Charlie Parker and Sonny Rollins, and he also headed a record of all-stars (trumpeter Kenny Dorham, alto saxophonist Lou Donaldson, tenor saxophonist “Lucky” Thompson, bassist Nelson Boyd, and drummer Max Roach) for his 1952 album, which was moreover his last for Blue Note, he just could not rise above. “In the end although all of Monk’s Blue Note sides are hailed today as some of his greatest recordings, at the time of their release in the late 1940s and early 1950s, they proved to be a commercial failure,” according to Kelley.

Working where he could after marrying his long-time love, Nellie Smith, in 1947 and having their first child, Thelonious, Jr., in 1949, the pressure mounted and thanks to many brutal, insensitive, and ill-informed critics it did not lessen. Monk found work--as scarce as it was--at local bars as much as possible. To make things worse, he took responsibility for narcotics possession intended to protect his fellow musician and friend, Bud Powell. By doing that though he lost his cabaret card--a license for musicians issued by the police department, for without it jazz musicians were prohibited from performing within New York clubs.

When 1955 rolled around, Monk began recording numerous albums with his new label, Riverside. These albums include Thelonious Monk Plays Duke Ellington, The Unique Thelonious Monk, Brilliant Corners, Monk’s Music, and Thelonious Monk Alone (second completely solo record). This time around the critics praised him and the public was now on the verge of understanding and appreciation.

“In 1957 with the help of his friend and sometime patron, the Baroness Pannonica de Koenigswarter, he had finally gotten his cabaret card restored and enjoyed a very long and successful engagement at the Five Spot Café with John Coltrane on tenor saxophone, Wilbur Ware and then Ahmed Abdul-Malik on bass, and Shadow Wilson on drums. From that point on, his career began to soar; his collaborations with Johnny Griffin, Sonny Rollins, Art Blakey, Clark Terry, Gerry Mulligan, and arranger Hall Overton, among others, were lauded by critics and studied by conservatory students. Monk even led a successful big band at Town Hall in 1959. It was as if jazz audiences had finally caught up to Monk’s music,” Kelley wrote in a biographical essay.

By 1961 Monk had the core of his quartet tenor saxophonist Charlie Rouse, bassist John Ore, and drummer Frankie Dunlop (later Ore was replaced by Butch Warren and then Larry Gales and Dunlop was replaced by Ben Riley). In 1964 Monk’s face graced the cover of the Time Magazine--only the third jazz musician in history to do so. From 1971 through 1972, Monk traveled with the “Giants of Jazz,” which had greats like Dizzy Gillespie, Kai Winding, Sonny Stitt, Al McKibbon, and Art Blakey.

Due to physical illness Monk “discontinued touring and recording and appeared only on rare occasions at Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall, and the Newport Jazz Festival,” stated on the Monk Institute's page.

Monk’s final public performance was in July of 1976. In his last days, he just gave up on writing music and playing the piano. On February 5, 1982, Monk suffered a stroke. He never fully regained cognitive thought; he hung on for another twelve days before passing away on February 17th.

Monk grained a great deal of respect by the time of his death, but posthumously he is now one of the most honored musicians in all forms of music. Monk was quoted saying, “I don’t consider myself a musician who has achieved perfection and can’t develop any further. But I compose my pieces with a formula that I created myself. Take a musician like John Coltrane. He is a perfect musician, who can give expression to all the possibilities of his instrument. But he seems to have difficulty expressing original ideas on it. That is why he keeps looking for ideas in exotic places. At least I don’t have that problem, because, like I say, I find my inspiration in myself.”


Here is my term paper for Music 142 (that I just finished). I contemplated several topics for this assignment. After thinking about doing a paper on Eric Clapton (a person whom I know about very much), I decided that he would not be acquit enough to be compared to Mozart or Copland; however, I felt that Mozart and Copland would have been to commonplace. I chose Thelonious Monk, the first jazz artist into which I really got, because he in my opinion is highly over shadowed by far less creative players. If anyone wants to check him out, but cannot find an album, I will be glad to loan one of my numerous records of him just to spread the word of his musical importance.