The second volume of Thelonious Monk's appearance at the 1963 Monterey Jazz Festival is drawn from two separate concerts on back to back days, with the pianist joined by longtime tenor saxophonist Charlie Rouse, bassist John Ore and drummer Frank Dunlop…
C’est à une véritable leçon de jazz que nus convie Antoine Hervé. Mais c’est bien plus que cela. Une sorte de déclaration d’amour à tous ses maîtres en piano jazz, au centre desquels il place Monk. Certes en s’attaquant en solo à l’œuvre de Monk (à l’exception d’un thème signé Irving Berlin et d’un thème de lui-même - Camara), Antoine Hervé prenait lors de ce concert donné en public en 1997 à la Cité de la Musique le risque de se voir comparer aux grands solos du Maître.
Thirty years after the death of Thelonious Monk, his music seems more of an enigmatic fortress than ever. Perched on the summit of a solitary peak its complex architecture swarms with lavish rooms, bone-dry staircases, unrestricted vistas and treacherous dungeons. The light-switches are halfway down the hall, the bath is in the middle of the bedroom, the toilets in the kitchen, and sometimes all the light-bulbs shine with a pale blue light, while dishes break on their own. Many have tried to live inside Monk's music, and all of them have felt the irregular narrowness of its walls, the continual slope of its flooring; you have to rely on an innate sense of balance and direction if you want to spend some time inside. And yet this is exactly the exploit which Pierrick Pédron has accomplished.
When Pico Iyer decided to go to Kyoto and live in a monastery, he did so to learn about Zen Buddhism from the inside, to get to know Kyoto, one of the loveliest old cities in the world, and to find out something about Japanese culture today–not the world of businessmen and production lines, but the traditional world of changing seasons and the silence of temples, of the images woven through literature, of the lunar Japan that still lives on behind the rising sun of geopolitical power.