There's music for foot stompin', tunes for bass wommpin', limericks for tear jerkin' and melodies to whistle a walkin'; but I don't feel like listening to anything like that right now. I have in mind a sonic landscape befitting a fog laced valley, one with dewy expanse of vermilion blades undulating to the caress of a wispy wind. And as I now sit, nestled between headphones purring the ambrosial sounds of Balmorhea, my mind drifts to such a place.
Strands of banjo arpeggios interlacing with the groan of a cello; musicians voice's loosing fervent moans alongside the droning of a plucked guitar; shrewdly diffuse percussion inciting tumultuous climaxes – this is Balmorhea's third album All is Wild, All is Silent. But alas, my words fail to express the simultaneity of these event; I may only write in this linear fashion, so far removed from Balmorhea's polyphonic soundscape. So I instruct you to partition some time, fully immerse yourself amidst the music – let it cultivate a verdant vista within your mind's eye.
I know of two musical comedians. The first is Eric Dolphy; the second, Thelonious Monk. These two men incite a veritable sense of hilarity within me. I guffaw at the absurdity of their melodic lines, I snicker at the acridity of their resolving notes. But I laugh not out of spite, nay, I laugh out of love for their vision. They spout forth notes simply for its intrinsic satisfaction - they adore their own art.
I surely now rank Thelonious Monk in the upper strata of iconic jazz heroes, but I do so vividly remember scoffing off his music upon a first listen. I read something about what a masterpiece 'Round Midnight' is and decided to give it a whirl, only to throw it to the side, hrumphing at the reviewer for leading me astray. It wasn't until I saw a video of Thelonious playing that I began to appreciate the music. So I've taken two of my favorite clips from 'Straight, No Chaser' (Documentary Produced by Clint Eastwood, and directed by Charlotte Zwerin) and also my favorite recordings from the album 'Straight, No Chaser' to share Thelonious' ingenuity.
Perhaps to appreciate Thelonious, one must understand his quirks. The video will surely reveal a few - in 'Evidence' he dances around on stage completely enthralled with the music, walks off and then rushes back to fly into a solo after realizing it's his turn; in 'Round Midnight' he maintains control of the keyboard whilst fishing out a cloth, smacking on the piano a few times to carry on the solo.
I love the documentary, but I do find that the recordings epitomize the beauty of his style. I still have yet to pay enough attention to the saxophonist because Thelonious captivates me even underneath the soloist (and please wait for Thelonious to solo, it's deep in the piece). He always meanders around the melody, disguising it beneath layers of dissonance, masquerading it behind prolonged silences.
It's strange stuff, but not without its own unique breed of logic and emotion. And remember, no matter if you love or hate the music, Thelonious simply didn't give a fuck.
