“I know my music can help bring people together, and that’s what is important. I think that jazz is the thing that has contributed the most to the idea that one day the word ‘friendship’ may really mean something in the United States.” Although Thelonious Monk spoke these words nearly half a century ago, the depth of his insight became even clearer to me after I published this book. Within weeks of its appearance, Thelonious Monk: The Life and Times of an American Original elicited hundreds of emails, letters, phone calls, and even visits from various readers expressing their profound gratitude for shedding light on an artist so shrouded in mystery. While some wrote to raise objections and offer corrections, the vast majority of correspondents and interlocutors shared their personal stories of seeing or hearing Monk for the first time, each one conveying how this seemingly impenetrable pianist changed their lives. Suddenly I was swept into a vast, intimate network of “friends” that crossed national borders, oceans, color, and language barriers, all connected through songs like “Well, You Needn’t,” “Brilliant Corners,” and “Criss Cross.” Monk, indeed, brought us together; as he predicted, his music has become the connective tissue for an ever-expanding, global friendship.
Through this unique friendship, I’ve learned even more about Monk and the world he inhabited, enabling me to make the paperback edition of Thelonious Monk a better book. Thanks to critical readers such as T. J. Anderson, Valerie Wilmer, Willard Jenkins, Larry Reni Thomas, James Liska, Todd Selbert, C. J. Hazevoet, James Leary, Marshall Zucker, Rob Gibson, Stanley Crouch, Mark Miller, Lewis Porter, Patrick Gaffey, Evan Goldfine, Irving Goldworm, Dave Barber, Richard Cutler, and Mose Allison, to name a few, I’ve been able to correct a few errors and incorporate new information in this edition. Old friends as well as Monk lovers I’ve never met generously shared original letters, concert programs, and ticket stubs, and archivist Rob Gibson offered up rare documents that filled in crucial gaps and helped me revise the story of Monk’s 1964 booking at Carnegie Hall. While the corrections, adjustments, and revisions have not changed my interpretation of Monk’s life and work, they have improved the book immensely. More important, the collective project of telling Monk’s story has broadened in unexpected ways, revealing an expansive community deeply committed to the artistry of Thelonious Monk and this wonderful global music we now call “jazz.” The circle continues to be enriched by so many extraordinary musicians who continue to tirelessly champion this book, especially Geri Allen, Randy Weston, Bill Douglass, Chick Corea, Larry Williams, and Eric Reed, whose new CD, Dancin’ Monk, beautifully captures the spirit of this American Original.
The memories people shared confirm what my book demonstrates: Thelonious Sphere Monk was a complicated, intelligent human being who could be warm and generous at times and incredibly difficult. Those who knew him said they not only recognized the “real” Thelonious in these pages but also acknowledged the central role family played in his life. And yet, I’ve also had several exchanges with people who, after learning I’d written a book on Monk, proceeded to recount incidents of bizarre and outrageous behavior, invariably concluding with “that was Monk.” Such stories are rarely firsthand accounts; indeed, in the telling they often take on the structure of a joke: “Did you hear the one when Monk . . .”
These legendary episodes—some of which I allude to in the book—are often apocryphal. Unfortunately, their pervasiveness has led some readers and a few critics to misinterpret my efforts to peel back the legends in order to reveal the truth. Contrary to some critics’ assertions, the book does not dismiss or ignore Monk’s unusual behavior, nor does it avoid the toxic territory of drug and alcohol abuse. Rather, I put Monk’s “eccentricities” in context, suggesting that some behaviors were deliberate—a facade meant to protect his privacy, part of his stagecraft, an expression of humor, or an act of resistance to what he perceived to be exploitative club owners or promoters. In some instances, his behavior was a sign of mental illness, or he might have been inebriated or dealing with an emotional crisis. The point is that each case needs to be understood situationally, not as some general condition or attitude. For me, the more interesting revelation was just how hard he worked: throughout his forty-year career he made most of his gigs, and when it was time to play, he delivered incredibly focused and inventive music. But gigs without incident don’t usually make for good Monklore.
In fact, a few readers complained of being overwhelmed by Monk’s exhausting schedule. But then again, Monk himself was often overwhelmed, which is precisely the point. I wanted nonmusicians to understand what every jazz musician knows: that making it in this business is incredibly hard work. Knowing the dizzying number of gigs he played, experiencing the financial stresses and strains, witnessing the daily emotional ups and downs helps explain those moments when exhaustion and fatigue kept him off the bandstand and, occasionally, drove him to the hospital.
Yet, as exhausting as Monk’s story may seem at times, it is also thrilling and tragic, funny and beautiful. Just like his music, his life cannot be skimmed or rushed through. As Monk himself once told his sidemen during a rehearsal, “Everybody don’t have to be showing how fast they can read. . . . Take one bar.” One bar, indeed. When listening to Monk, every note counts; every moment is electric. He made music and lived a life that resists neat sound bytes or samples, and thus sits uncomfortably in a contemporary culture built for speed and distillation. So if you’re coming to this book for the first time, or discovering Monk’s music, I urge you to slow down. Listen. Reflect. Savor every sound and every word. If you are willing to follow his path from the opening bar to the final cadence, I can assure you that patience will be rewarded.