For obvious reasons, I’ve been binging music by the mighty and humble genius that was Sonny Rollins, who passed away at 95 on May 25. Trying to sum up “Hawk’s” status and contribution to jazz history, in which he is in the uppermost echelon, is basically an impossible task. A reasonable place to start in understanding his legacy is by listening to the recent era-crossing compilation Remembering Sonny Rollins (listen here ), one of many Rollins Roundup packages available for living ears.
Other choice albums of note in his six-decade discography: Saxophone Colossus, his commanding and fittingly named 1956 album; The Bridge, with guitarist Jim Hall, which commemorates his post-junkie period of practicing and regaining strength by playing under the Williamsburg Bridge; Tenor Madness, with his eminent comrade John Coltrane; The Solo Album, in which he, equipped with only his horn, demonstrated the ensemble inside his head; and, bringing up the rear, his final studio album, Sonny, Please.
That album was released in 2006, the year of his first of two poetic powerhouse concerts in Campbell Hall, with a welcome return in 2009. In 2006, the first standing ovation for the two-hour show came when the master took the stage. On those memorable nights at the Campbell, we recall epic — but never too long — solos that seemed to microcosmically summarize jazz history, a history he was a major part of. I heard similar epic and epiphanic solos at festivals in Monterey and Toronto, and at the Roman amphitheater venue of the Vienne Jazz Festival in France. Those moments bubble up and stand apart happily from my jazz-packed memory banks.