Prime Cuts #2: “Money Jungle” (Originally issued on LP by United Artists Jazz, 1963; reissued on LP by Blue Note, 1986, first reissue on CD, 1987, corrected reissue on CD, 2002), Duke Ellington. 

This is the second in a series of essays that are meant to explore the impact two pieces of music can have when lined up back-to-back on an album, and to also consider the ramifications two scenes in a cinematic montage or between films can have.  I’ve selected the title track to Duke Ellington’s trio recording with Charles Mingus and Max Roach, “Money Jungle”, which is followed by another of Ellington’s compositions, “Fleurette Africaine” for this week’s article.

I’ve been writing a lot about Duke Ellington in the last few weeks, and with good reason- I have been around his music since before I was born, Ellington was a featured artist on the family stereo and my understanding of his genius as a composer, improviser, musician, bandleader, and thinker grows every time I encounter his work, which is often and with intention.  Because of this fortunate background, I felt very familiar with the range of Duke Ellington’s music: large groups and small, from the early recordings from the 1920’s on Okeh to the classic Jimmy Blanton/Ben Webster sides from the early 1940’s on RCA Victor to recordings from the mid 50’s session like the classic “Live at Newport” and “Such Sweet Thunder” on Columbia.  But I was not prepared for the revelation of “Money Jungle” when I first heard the Blue Note LP reissue when it was released in 1986, following my move back to Boston after studying film at McGill University in Montreal.

As mentioned in a previous essay, “What Would Ellington Do? Pt. 2” (published on March 7th), I began to get more and more interested in Cecil Taylor’s music while at college and would read all the interviews I could find with him to learn more about his ideas.  Though Taylor would often cite Duke Ellington’s influence when interviewed, I honestly couldn’t hear it in Taylor’s material.  That’s until I dropped the needle on “Money Jungle” in my Boston apartment during 1986.  When Charles Mingus’ bass and the propulsive drums of Max Roach leapt out the speakers, setting the stage for Ellington’s fortissimo cluster to open the album’s title track, my jaw dropped; and still does whenever I hear this piece of music.  Its rhythmic drive and melodic dissonance are not only neighbors to Cecil Taylor’s music of the same time, this performance by Ellington, Mingus, and Roach lives in the same house.  Like the drumming supplied by Denis Charles in the Taylor sessions of the late 50’s/early 60’s, Max Roach is aligned with a tempo and pulse sustained throughout the piece and, while Ellington is working pretty directly with Roach’s groove, the accents that Mingus lays down on the bass- although also following the beat- are so irregular they create a rhythmic tension strong enough to feel as if the bar lines are about to come apart.  Even with this tension the propulsion always moves forward, the musical energy keeps increasing, it never falls apart or dissipates.

After such a powerful opening tour de force, where does one go?  The choice here was brilliant: shift opposite.  The second piece on “Money Jungle” is “Fleurette Africaine” and, alongside his recording with John Coltrane of “In A Sentimental Mood”, it is one of the most beautiful ballad performances from Ellington’s discography which doesn’t feature Johnny Hodges.  The performance also stands in contrast to almost everything presented by the piece “Money Jungle”: introspective vs. extraverted, spare vs. dense, quiet vs. loud, gorgeous vs. tumultuous.  Each composition is very much connected to its title.  

And, though the outcomes are quite different, the performances have a correspondence through their innovative approach to time and tempo.  Though the pulse is again maintained during “Fleurette Africaine” by all three musicians, the groove is most strongly felt in Ellington’s expression of his modulating phrase at the composition’s core.  Mingus often uses a skittering bass motif or pizzicato commentary that doesn’t express the pulse distinctly, and Roach- at his melodic best- provides a musical echo to Ellington’s statements but played as triplets which makes them feel as if they’re floating, alongside tom-tom rolls that echo the bass motif.  The time in “Fleurette Africaine” also feels like it is about to come apart, but in this case, gorgeously.

Note: Avoid the Blue Note reissue on CD from 1987.  Though there are variations in sequencing on the other versions of “Money Jungle”, most likely due to the additional tracks on the Blue Note editions not included with the original release from United Artists Jazz, all other releases follow the same sequence of the first four cuts: “Money Jungle”, “Fleurette Africaine”, “Very Special”, and “Warm Valley”, each a Duke Ellington composition placed in an order that is essential to fully appreciating the brilliance accomplished here.