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dansbooks 's review for:
Thelonious Monk: the Life and Times of an American Original
by Robin D.G. Kelley
Robin D.G. Kelley worked some 14 years on this biography, and it shows. Monk couldn’t have hoped for a better biographer than Kelley – a scholar, musician, historian, and clearly a fan – and Kelley’s given us a portrait that’s at once loving, meticulous and poignant. Kelley’s skills are all at their best when he combines his musical and historical insights, for example, in the early chapters on Monk’s San Juan Hill neighborhood as it and the jazz scene developed.
Much as a I loved this book, I don’t wouldn’t recommend it for anyone who’s not a pretty serious jazz fan, since so much of it, duh, traces Monk’s career, and so is filled with the details of where, when and what he played and who he played it with. But for those of you in that category: the best way to enjoy this one is to have your collection at your fingertips, and a connection to Rhapsody close by for the titles you don’t own (not to mention YouTube, where you can also find clips from a surprising number of performances). Kelley’s observations on the music itself are insightful and also very intelligible. Unlike, say, the technical sections of Lewis Porter’s monumental Coltrane biography, you don’t need to be a trained musician to appreciate them.
Though Monk’s story ends so sadly and while it’s hard to read about just how difficult things were throughout so much of his life and career, Kelley equally elicits wonderful examples of Monk’s wit and humor. My favorite may be when he and Miles are arguing about Monk’s difficult way of accompanying band members’ solos. At one point Monk does lay out during a Miles solo, but, as Kelley describes the scene: "In an act of playful comeuppance, Monk left the piano, snuck up behind Miles during his solo, reached into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes, and dug into his jacket pocket for matches. After he lit up, he put everything back into Davis' pockets." Priceless.
Much as a I loved this book, I don’t wouldn’t recommend it for anyone who’s not a pretty serious jazz fan, since so much of it, duh, traces Monk’s career, and so is filled with the details of where, when and what he played and who he played it with. But for those of you in that category: the best way to enjoy this one is to have your collection at your fingertips, and a connection to Rhapsody close by for the titles you don’t own (not to mention YouTube, where you can also find clips from a surprising number of performances). Kelley’s observations on the music itself are insightful and also very intelligible. Unlike, say, the technical sections of Lewis Porter’s monumental Coltrane biography, you don’t need to be a trained musician to appreciate them.
Though Monk’s story ends so sadly and while it’s hard to read about just how difficult things were throughout so much of his life and career, Kelley equally elicits wonderful examples of Monk’s wit and humor. My favorite may be when he and Miles are arguing about Monk’s difficult way of accompanying band members’ solos. At one point Monk does lay out during a Miles solo, but, as Kelley describes the scene: "In an act of playful comeuppance, Monk left the piano, snuck up behind Miles during his solo, reached into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes, and dug into his jacket pocket for matches. After he lit up, he put everything back into Davis' pockets." Priceless.