Jason Moran celebrates Monk at New England Conservatory with a multimedia jazzfest
Shelly Runyon | 2/15/2012, 10:09 a.m.
“His last name is Monk because his slave master’s name was Monk,” he said. “And as cool as we think the name Monk is, it’s also quite a stain, too, on American history. So here’s Thelonius Monk, this kind of brilliant musician and composer who has been able to change the perception of the name Monk, you know, as an African American.”
Moran also created a scene where the audience reads about Monk being beat with a billy club by a police officer outside of a club. The screen read, “They take out their billy club and start beating his ass,” and Waits played a drumroll. The drums grew louder and louder into a crescendo as Moran left the room with half of his band, leaving only the trumpet, trombone and bass trombone to create a slow melody over the chaotic drum beat.
The drums stopped and the remaining stood and walked off stage while continuing to play, as if they are saluting Monk’s memory and adversities.
“I wanted to bring some of these issues up with relationship to his music,” Moran said. “Because his history is his music and to separate the two, would be ridiculous. So I wanted to marry the two again and put it in front of, not only the band members, but in front of the audience, so we contemplate this as we listen to his music.”
As the band regrouped on stage, Monk’s words played overhead. He spoke about his music, and he exchanged ideas with Eugene Smith about how to play his 1959 performance, “Monk at Town Hall.” The pair banter and it set the stage for the second half of the show, bringing the audience into Monk’s thoughts.
During this rare look into his strategy as a musician and as a band leader, Monk emphasized that he wanted to keep the music loose and free, telling Smith that he wants to hear “harmony all the way through,” and that they won’t be playing songs in the big band style, because that’s “too stiff.”
Moran’s music became fuller and more improvisational as the last three songs played out on stage. The band played together like they really knew each other at this point, which is true — they rehearsed these songs for the better part of a year — and the rhythm and beat reflected this symbiotic energy. The concert felt just like it was intended — like a passionate discussion of Monk.
“A really good discussion, just like any good film, or any good Shakespeare, it really flows well, line after line after line and it makes sense,” Moran said.
He said he had confidence in this band to play Monk’s music well because the structure of jazz and the themes of the songs would carry them through the improvisations.
“Even if you don’t really understand what a song is saying, but you know they are talking about this subject in a way that you haven’t before, and to some degree it will probably make sense.”
And it did. By the second to last song the multimedia presentation just flashed the words across the screen, line after line, “in my mind,” and the audience was with the band — in Monk’s mind.
“I was born in 1920 when I started hearing music in my mind. In my mind. In my mind,” the video played like a broken record.
“(The concert) unfolds in a way that by the end it’s a big party,” Moran said earlier in the evening.
To end the show, the band played as they walked off the stage, up through the audience, out of Jordan Hall and onto Gainsborough Street, all the while belting Monk’s music.