SOLO SONNY, Road Shows Vol 3
19 September 2009, St Louis
Kim Kleinman, Contributing Writer, WGTE’s Jazz Spectrum
Sonny Rollins was active from 1947 to 2014. He played a lot—gigs, practice, jam sessions, practice, at least 45 studio recordings as a leader, and practice. I want to focus on just nine minutes out of all those hours and hours of playing jazz at the highest level.
Those are not necessarily special, though that Sonny, so often dissatisfied with his own playing, released it to us eager listeners says he thought it was at least okay. However I was present at that performance, so it is pretty damn special to me. Let me endeavor to use those nine minutes to evoke a glorious 67-year career.
I was not as immersed in jazz in 2009 as I am now, but I knew I could not miss the chance to see Sonny Rollins when he came to St. Louis. I was captivated seeing a stooped 79-year old man shuffle onto the stage, but then magically become nimble and spry as the music came over him. I do recall there was a calypso, but it wasn’t “St. Thomas.” I didn’t recognize the standards as usual, sadly. Yes, there was a Duke Ellington composition, but I even had to be told it was “In a Sentimental Mood.”
Nonetheless, that bit of Ellingtonia gave way to a cadenza that didn’t seem at the time out of the ordinary. That’s just what Sonny did right? I picked up his “There Will Never Be Another You” when it came out in 1978 and played the nearly 17-minute title cut repeatedly. For the first half, he led a driving ensemble version with Tommy Flanagan on piano, Bob Crenshaw on bass, and both Mickey Roker and Billy Higgins on drums. But Sonny wasn’t through and went on by himself for just as long spinning idea after idea, playing for himself going off mic, seemingly wandering around the Museum of Modern Art whose garden was the performance space.
Famously, Sonny played on the Williamsburg Bridge by himself from 1959 to 1961, honing his craft. I can’t help but think that what he did what he did there was what he did at MoMA, what he did on all those nights when he free associated taking flight from whatever tune the band particularly cooked that night through intricate permutations of a special phrase, extrapolations from another phrase to any of the vast number of standards and not so standard tunes that he knew, amusing us but also himself at the relation between high art and hokum.
I had come to see Sonny; Clifton Anderson on trombone added an interesting other voice but he didn’t intrude. Having Bobby Broom on guitar and the venerable Bob Crenshaw now on electric bass seemed to be pandering to modern taste even as I missed their jazz bona fides. Still I know I was tickled to have such a tour de force on my night even if I missed so much of what he was saying.
Having these nine minutes of “Solo Sunny” on his Road Shows Vol. 3 release makes it possible to revisit his interior monologue. Thanks to repeated listening, I have grasped a little bit more. There’s probably “Tennessee Waltz” in there, definitely “Someone To Watch Over Me,” and a kid’s earworm that I finally placed as “This Old Man (he played one/he played knick knack on my drum/with a knick knack paddy whack give the dog a bone/this old man came rolling home).” Undoubtedly, there were the thematic improvisations à la “Blue 7” which Gunther Schuller celebrated in his famous essay (see https://www.jazzstudiesonline.org/files/jso/resources/pdf/SonnyRollinsAndChallengeOfThematicImprov.pdf ) Certainly there was the rich tone, high virtuosity, and wit and whimsy and magic.
Even if it was just another Sonny Rollins cadenza, it captured this giant’s artistry.
It was one that was recorded and released. And I witnessed it.












