To look in the mirror and see…
Dear reader, after seeing this title you may be forgiven for thinking that you had stumbled upon some hormonally charged ranting along the lines of “I wish I was anyone else but me”. Chances are the inner voyeur has got the better of you and you have stopped to indulge in my misery. But I should warn you; you are about to be disappointed. Instead of a lengthy diatribe regarding the woes of a lonely childhood this is in fact a joyous piece celebrating the genius of one man.
Everyone should have someone to look up to, and one person who’s life and work sums up what music is to me is the jazz saxophonist, Sonny Rollins. Throughout my articles I have dropped hints about what I admire in musicians and music and I believe Rollins fits in every category.
In the words of Noel Gallagher “I don’t think there is anything special about who creates the music”. I think this goes to prove that ultimately the music is what performing and composing is all about and not about the aesthetics. Sonny Rollins allowed the music to show its greatness in place of his own; he grew an often unkempt beard, he rarely wore a neck tie and was occasionally spotted performing in the sort hat you would associate with someone about to go fishing. Those who have to dress to impress are often trying to compensate for the true quality of the music they create.
When on tour Rollins lived and breathed the saxophone. Every town he entered, the first thing he would do would be to go to every pawn shop and junk sale and music shop and pick up random saxophone parts. It didn’t matter if it were a chewed mouth piece or a dented and tarnish crook, he would still buy it. Hours before the gig began he would be in his dressing room smoking so much that within a short period of time the room would be obscured in the haze and he would have all of his recent finds laid out on a table. He would stick random parts together and play and play and play and chop and change and make a new saxophone and change the crook and the lig until he had found that sound that he wanted. Every night and every gig he innovated once again. He truly lived the music, in his eyes a tune was not written and then frozen in time but it flowed like a river that wends its way into the distance, forever evolving.
Another remarkable story is that while playing a TV gig and getting a little wrapped up in it all he jumped from the foot high stage and promptly hit the deck. Cast and crew members and the viewing publics thought this was great; everyone said what a cool cat Rollins was for laying down and playing, hes just so hip. But when the track ended everyone was slightly perplexed to see that Rollins didn’t get up, this was because as luck would have it he had broken his ankle, but by continuing to play he once again proved that it was the music that was important and great, greater and mor important than he.
Lastly Rollins managed to control the urge to try and make continual recording returns as he got older; this isn’t a euphemism for him dying of a drug overdose, (which of course would curtail your career) because he certainly hasn’t done that but the point is he respected the closing of the period in which he was a vessel for truly influential music.
In short I believe Rollins is a model of greatness, not because of albums such as Saxophone Colossus but also because of his passion, persona and dedication.
Dear reader, after seeing this title you may be forgiven for thinking that you had stumbled upon some hormonally charged ranting along the lines of “I wish I was anyone else but me”. Chances are the inner voyeur has got the better of you and you have stopped to indulge in my misery. But I should warn you; you are about to be disappointed. Instead of a lengthy diatribe regarding the woes of a lonely childhood this is in fact a joyous piece celebrating the genius of one man.
Everyone should have someone to look up to, and one person who’s life and work sums up what music is to me is the jazz saxophonist, Sonny Rollins. Throughout my articles I have dropped hints about what I admire in musicians and music and I believe Rollins fits in every category.
In the words of Noel Gallagher “I don’t think there is anything special about who creates the music”. I think this goes to prove that ultimately the music is what performing and composing is all about and not about the aesthetics. Sonny Rollins allowed the music to show its greatness in place of his own; he grew an often unkempt beard, he rarely wore a neck tie and was occasionally spotted performing in the sort hat you would associate with someone about to go fishing. Those who have to dress to impress are often trying to compensate for the true quality of the music they create.
When on tour Rollins lived and breathed the saxophone. Every town he entered, the first thing he would do would be to go to every pawn shop and junk sale and music shop and pick up random saxophone parts. It didn’t matter if it were a chewed mouth piece or a dented and tarnish crook, he would still buy it. Hours before the gig began he would be in his dressing room smoking so much that within a short period of time the room would be obscured in the haze and he would have all of his recent finds laid out on a table. He would stick random parts together and play and play and play and chop and change and make a new saxophone and change the crook and the lig until he had found that sound that he wanted. Every night and every gig he innovated once again. He truly lived the music, in his eyes a tune was not written and then frozen in time but it flowed like a river that wends its way into the distance, forever evolving.
Another remarkable story is that while playing a TV gig and getting a little wrapped up in it all he jumped from the foot high stage and promptly hit the deck. Cast and crew members and the viewing publics thought this was great; everyone said what a cool cat Rollins was for laying down and playing, hes just so hip. But when the track ended everyone was slightly perplexed to see that Rollins didn’t get up, this was because as luck would have it he had broken his ankle, but by continuing to play he once again proved that it was the music that was important and great, greater and mor important than he.
Lastly Rollins managed to control the urge to try and make continual recording returns as he got older; this isn’t a euphemism for him dying of a drug overdose, (which of course would curtail your career) because he certainly hasn’t done that but the point is he respected the closing of the period in which he was a vessel for truly influential music.
In short I believe Rollins is a model of greatness, not because of albums such as Saxophone Colossus but also because of his passion, persona and dedication.
posted by Ryan Fender at 10:09
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