December 2024
Craft Recordings / Original Jazz Classics / Riverside Records—CR00725
Format: LP
Musical Performance
Sound Quality
Overall Enjoyment
At first glance, it seems odd to see tenor saxophonist Coleman Hawkins listed in the credits for Monk’s Music, a 1957 release by the Thelonious Monk Septet on Riverside Records. But while it’s easy to think of Hawkins as a swing-era player—his career began in the early 1920s—he did play with bebop musicians in the ’40s and in 1944 led a session that featured Monk on piano.
Another tenor player on Monk’s Music is John Coltrane. He and Hawkins were joined on this recording by Gigi Gryce on alto sax, Ray Copeland on trumpet, Wilbur Ware on bass, and Art Blakey on drums. Monk, leading the session from the piano, wrote five of the album’s six compositions.
Craft Recordings has just reissued Monk’s Music on 180gm vinyl as part of the Original Jazz Classics (OJC) series. OJC was established in 1982 as an imprint of Fantasy Records under which titles from the various labels that were then part of its holdings would be reissued. Craft now owns those recordings and in 2023 began releasing OJC titles with fresh masters by Kevin Gray, available either as high-quality vinyl, pressed at Record Technology, Inc. (RTI), or as high-resolution downloads.
Riverside released stereo and mono versions of the LP, which had very different mixes as each was recorded with a different microphone setup: the mikes were closer to the musicians in the mono recording, farther away in the stereo recording. Gray cut the lacquers for the new LP from the analog mono masters.
Monk chose to open the album with an arrangement for horns of a 19th-century hymn, “Abide with Me,” by William H. Monk. After listening to this track on CD—I have a 1993 stereo CD release of Monk’s Music, remastered by Kirk Felton at Fantasy Studios (then, the Berkley recording facility of Fantasy Records)—hearing it on vinyl revealed why Craft chose to release the LP in the mono version. On the CD the horns sounded thin, and the overall balance was skewed toward the left. When Monk and Ware begin to play the lead-in to the next track, “Well, You Needn’t,” Ware’s bass was barely present. By contrast, on the new pressing, the horns sounded fuller and were better separated despite the monophonic reproduction. The textures of each horn were so much clearer I could pick out each player individually. Monk’s piano on “Well, You Needn’t” was grander and richer in tone, and Ware’s bass had real presence and low-end punch.
I also streamed the album from Amazon, a digital version of the 2011 stereo CD release. The sound was largely the same as that of my 1993 CD. The differences I was hearing between the vinyl and the digital versions of the album seemed to be rooted in the mix—whether it was mono or stereo. I needed another mono pressing against which to evaluate the new one and tracked down a 1983 LP release that Gary Hobish cut using the mono tapes of the recording.
The 1983 LP reaffirmed my preference for a mono rendition of Monk’s Music: Hobish’s mastering presented the horns on “Abide in Me” in greater detail and depth than they had in stereo. But Gray’s mastering gave them an even deeper soundstage and more texture. Ware’s bass on “Well, You Needn’t” had a broader sound on the new LP with more sharply defined attack transients, and Monk’s piano rang out with more authority, especially in the lower register.
During the ensemble sections on “Well, You Needn’t,” the horn lines were better separated on the new LP, their intricate interplay with Monk’s piano lines in full view. Monk’s solo sounded more dynamic on the new pressing. Emphatic chords jumped out of my speakers impressively, and melody notes sustained longer and blended into each other to better effect. Monk brings Coltrane in for the first horn solo, calling out, “Coltrane! Coltrane!” On the new pressing, Monk’s urging was perfectly clear. Coltrane’s solo could then be heard at the fore in full, sharp presence—it was softer, more reserved, on the earlier LP—with Monk’s piano behind, harmonically richer.
Coltrane and Copeland sit out on “Ruby, My Dear,” which features Monk with Coleman Hawkins. The new pressing presents the tenor saxophonist’s muscular, elegant tone in greater relief than the earlier one. I could hear Hawkins modify his breathing to alter volume and articulation. Monk’s command of the piano is on full display here, as indeed it is throughout the album. I could easily follow his interplay with the soloist as they introduce and develop musical ideas while keeping them grounded in the composition. Art Blakey’s subtle brush technique sounded more focused on the new pressing. When he switches to light snare work using drumsticks, his snare drum was more cleanly etched.
On “Off Minor,” I was better able to discern Monk’s elaborate arrangement of horns with Gray’s mastering. Whereas Copeland’s trumpet solo on the 1983 pressing sounded recessed and flat, on the new reissue it stepped out in front of the group and had a brighter, more confident tone. Ware’s bass solo snapped harder, and Blakey’s drums were more solid and reverberant on his solo and had greater impact. Blakey’s opening on “Epistrophy” is intense and joyous, and I had a clearer view with the new LP of the hallmarks of his style: his sprinkling of hi-hat accents here and there, for instance. Coltrane’s solo on this track sounded edgier and more bracing than on the earlier pressing.
Gray has enlivened Monk’s Music on the new pressing, giving each instrument the space it needs to register. In letting us hear so distinctly each instrument’s tone as it partakes in creating the unique sonorities of the ensemble, Gray has made the ensemble sections of this recording all the more impressive.
My copy of the new release of Monk’s Music was flat and quiet, and with backgrounds so black as to be the sonic equivalent of 4K, it presented Gray’s careful mastering with astonishing clarity. While the 1983 pressing of the album sounded good, this new pressing brought me a step closer to the musicians. It gave me greater appreciation of Monk’s skills as an arranger and pianist and greater insight into the contributions of each player to the session.
LPs in the new OJC series come in high-quality heavy-cardboard covers with tipped-on artwork and an excellent antistatic inner sleeve. The outer sash is something that Fantasy used on occasion on the earlier OJC releases; it’s a nice touch that adds to an already impressive package.
A few months ago, I picked up a copy of the recent Craft/OJC reissue of Cannonball Adderley’s Know What I Mean? (originally released by Riverside Records in 1960). It, too, was a marked improvement over my vinyl copy from the early ’80s. Craft has taken the OJC series, already an important set of releases coveted by jazz fans, and made it essential.
. . . Joseph Taylor
josepht@soundstagenetwork.com
