Dayna Stephens: Monk’D

MUSIC
by Jeff Wilson
Jul 07, 2026

Of the dozens of new jazz albums I’ve sampled lately, Monk’D left the strongest first impression, and further listens have only increased its allure. The leader of the quartet, Dayna Stephens, you may know as a saxophonist, but here he plays a double bass with gut strings while Stephen Riley coaxes beautiful sounds from a vintage Buescher 400 tenor saxophone. The album was recorded in one afternoon at Rudy Van Gelder Studios, and the piano Ethan Iverson plays was once used by Thelonious Monk, which seems appropriate considering that the album focuses on lesser-known Monk compositions with a couple Monk-inspired originals thrown in. Iverson includes some Monk-isms in his comping and his solos; in general, though, he’s a very fluid player who, during ballads, displays a deep level of romanticism. Individually, each player shines on Monk’D, but it’s the collective group sound of the quartet (cool, sleek, hip) with an unusually nimble rhythm section (Eric McPherson is the drummer) that makes this record such a treat. Along with capturing the individual instruments with clarity, the recording provides plenty of separation, which befits a performance where each player gives each other plenty of breathing room. Monk or no Monk, here’s hoping this foursome continues to record.

Tags: JAZZ MUSIC

By Jeff Wilson

This will take some explaining, but I can connect the dots between pawing through LPs at a headshop called Elysian Fields in Des Moines, Iowa, as a seventh grader, and becoming the Music Editor for The Absolute Sound. At that starting point—around 1970/71—Elysian Fields had more LPs than any other store in Des Moines. Staring at all the colorful covers was both tantalizing and frustrating. I had no idea who most of the artists were, because radio played only a fraction of what was current. To figure out what was going on, I realized that I needed to build a record collection—and as anyone who’s visited me since high school can testify, I succeeded. Record collecting was still in my blood when, starting in the late 1980s, the Cincinnati Public Library book sale suddenly had an Elysian Fields quantity of LPs from people who’d switched to CDs. That’s where I met fellow record hawk Mark Lehman, who preceded me as music editor of TAS. Mark introduced me to Jonathan Valin, whose 1993 detective novel The Music Lovers depicts the battles between record hawks at library sales. That the private eye in the book, Harry Stoner, would stumble upon a corpse or two while unraveling the mystery behind the disappearance of some rare Living Stereo platters made perfect sense to me. After all, record collecting is serious business. Mark knew my journalistic experience included concert reviews for The Cincinnati Enquirer and several long, sprawling feature articles in the online version of Crawdaddy. When he became TAS music editor in 2008, he contacted me about writing for the magazine. I came on board shortly after the latest set of obituaries had been written for vinyl—and, as fate had it, right when the LP started to make yet another unexpected comeback. Suddenly, I found myself scrambling to document all the record companies pressing vinyl. Small outfits were popping up world-wide, and many were audiophile-oriented, plus already existing record companies began embracing the format again. Trying to keep track of everything made me feel, again, like that overwhelmed seventh grader in Elysian Fields, and as Music Editor I’ve found that keeping my finger on the pulse of the music world also requires considerable detective work. I’ve never had a favorite genre, but when it comes time to sit down and do some quality listening, for me nothing beats a well-recorded small-group jazz recording on vinyl. If a stereo can give me warmth and intimacy, tonal accuracy, clear imaging, crisp-sounding cymbals, and deep, woody-sounding bass, then I’m a happy camper.