Call and Response

I was playing Sonny Rollins the other night on “All That Jazz”—a cut from an album I came across browsing on allmusic.com—and it occurred to me that what I was listening to was an old jazzman playing music that sounded like it came from a “young lion.”  Given the gargantuan challenges associated with a decades-long pursuit of musical perfection (or any creative pursuit for that matter) and mastery, and considering his massive contributions to the jazz lexicon, tenor-man Sonny Rollins could be forgiven for any lack of enthusiasm he may have at this stage of his life for making music, especially at the grand old age of 83.

What is surprising is this is not the case at all. In a January 2010 interview with Jazz Inside, Rollins maintains he is just as enthusiastic now about his music and, therefore, just as creative, as he was when he was younger; he still gets “the same kick” from playing as he did when he was a “little child.” The body ages, but the soul and spirit of the music does not.

The evidence of this youthful spirit and enthusiasm can be heard in a collection (Road Show vol. 2) of live performances recorded at New York’s Beacon Theater on September 10, 2010, on the occasion of Sonny Rollins’ 80th birthday.

Rollins surrounds himself with young musicians (though certainly not a prerequisite for playing with youthful vigor) talented enough to challenge him in ways that allow him to stretch out creatively, magically, inventively. While many of his recent studio outings have been less exciting than those 30 or 40 years ago, it is his live concerts that are exciting and adventurous and where his solo improvisations seem to lock into some kind of pulsating rhythm of the universe.

Case in point, “Sunnymoon for Two.”  After the first solo, Sonny Rollins riffs the audience, telling them (in a voice that sounds like vaguely like Miles Davis: hip and high pitched) that there’s a rumor going around backstage about some horn player coming out on stage to blow the happy birthday song for him. Jazz giant Ornette Colman (who, interestingly, was born in the same year as Rollins, 1930, and older by six months and who has never appeared on a record with Rollins) joins Rollins on stage, and for 22 minutes the two confront each other, tenor titans exchanging thunderous, riveting solos, each playing their trademark styles, reaching a level of Jazz Buddha-like self-awareness, where the music just exists, with no particular beginning or ending. Without the boundaries set by Rollins’ piano-less rhythm section of Christian McBride on bass and Roy Haynes on drums, the two tenor giants may very well have exploded in pure musical energy and may have become the stuff stars are made of.

I have never seen Sonny Rollins in a live performance, but that is one of things I want to experience before it is too late.  He is, after all, 83 years old!