“The greatest is gone,” jazz writer and native Bloomingtonian Mark Stryker wrote last week after news of the passing of saxophonist Sonny Rollins at the age of 95 began to spread. Rollins died on Memorial Day, the eve of trumpeter and colleague Miles Davis' centennial. He was the last surviving musician featured in photographer Art Kane’s legendary 1958 group portrait, A Great Day in Harlem.
Nicknamed “the saxophone colossus” after one of his landmark albums, Rollins was one of jazz’s most adventurous and recognizable voices for more than seven decades. His sound was bold, searching, playful, and profoundly human. Whether performing with small groups, recording masterworks like The Freedom Suite and Way Out West, or stepping away from the spotlight entirely to rethink and rebuild his artistry, Rollins approached music with a restless curiosity and round-the-clock discipline and practice.
Last week on Just You and Me on WFIU, I devoted a full program to Sonny Rollins’ life and music following news of his passing. The tribute explored recordings spanning his remarkable career, from his early collaborations with jazz greats such as Miles Davis and Thelonious Monk to the expansive live performances that defined his later years. The pursuit of growth as an artist and a human being—and certainly for Rollins, his artistry and his humanity were one and the same—was always central to the saxophonist’s work, even after he had achieved critical admiration and a devoted following. His ongoing dedication to avoid repeating himself and to find new and deeper forms of expression often made him reluctant to release performances that he felt fell short of the high standards that he set for himself. That spirit of exploration is part of what made him such an enduring artist and dynamic live performer who preferred the stage to the studio.
Rollins also had a powerful connection to the tradition of storytelling in jazz. His improvisations could feel conversational, humorous, meditative, or dramatic, often all within the same performance. He had an uncanny ability to take a familiar melody and transform it into something surprising and alive in the moment, as well as a penchant for dropping in quotes from the deep catalogue of American popular song that he knew and loved.
Listeners who missed the tribute broadcast, or who simply want to spend more time with Rollins’ music, can also explore two Night Lights programs dedicated to his work:
Both programs are available to stream online through Indiana Public Media.
I was fortunate to see Sonny Rollins in concert, at Indianapolis’ Madame Walker Theater in the summer of 1999. Rollins was the marquee artist at the inaugural Indianapolis Jazz Fest, which continues to this day. He was 68 at the time and delivered a two-hour cornucopia of extended improvisatory delights in the warm glow of the Harlem-Renaissance-era auditorium that made me feel as if I was sitting in jazz church and all souls were rising. He leaves behind one of the richest legacies in jazz history, with a musical life that challenged listeners, inspired fellow musicians, and showed us that artistic growth never has to come to an end. Rollins’ great odyssey has finally concluded, but only in the corporeal sense. His recordings will continue to remind us of his greatness and to serve as touchstones of jazz for generations of musicians and listeners to come.
