Sonny Rollins, Tenor Saxophonist And Restless Genius Of Jazz, Dies At 95

NEW YORK (AP) — Renowned tenor saxophonist Sonny Rollins, celebrated for his pioneering spirit and innovative approach to jazz over a span of more than five decades, passed away on Monday at 95 years old.

Terri Hinte, his spokesperson, confirmed to The Associated Press that Rollins died at his residence in Woodstock, New York. While no specific cause was given, she mentioned that he had been mostly confined to his home in recent years due to various health issues.

Rollins was admired for his improvisational prowess, from his early days as a teenage prodigy to his later solo work and explorations in free jazz. He was among the last surviving icons of the bebop era and stood alongside John Coltrane and Charlie Parker as one of the most influential saxophonists of his era.

His music reached rock audiences through the Rolling Stones’ 1981 album “Tattoo You,” which features his emotive saxophone solo on the track “Waiting on a Friend,” inspired by watching Mick Jagger dance.

Despite his remarkable achievements, Rollins often felt unsatisfied with his work, taking extended breaks from performing and constantly embracing diverse musical styles.

He described himself as “a work in progress,” expressing that he was not one to settle into a single style of playing.

Though his early bebop recordings were beloved by fans, Rollins avoided revisiting them, finding it “excruciating” to hear the imperfections in his older works.

“I don’t consider myself a musician that has learned as much as I want to learn,” he remarked to The Associated Press in 2007.

Throughout the 1990s and 2000s, Rollins released numerous critically acclaimed albums. He kept up a demanding practice schedule and continued to perform live well into his 80s. However, pulmonary fibrosis, a condition affecting the lungs, eventually led to his retirement. His last concert was in 2012, and he stopped playing entirely by 2014.

Although he missed the applause of live audiences, it was the act of playing itself that he longed for more.

“I played a couple of concerts early on where I was out in the open in the afternoon,” he shared with the New York Times in 2020. “I was able to look up in the sky, and I felt a communication; I felt that I was part of something. Not the crowd. Something bigger.”

His 2001 album “This is What I Do” earned him a Grammy for the best jazz instrumental album. He won another Grammy in 2006 for best jazz instrumental solo on “Why Was I Born?”

“Why Was I Born?” was featured on the album “Without a Song: The 9/11 Concert,” a live recording from a performance in Boston just days after the September 11 attacks. Rollins, who had been evacuated from his apartment near ground zero, went ahead with the concert at the encouragement of his wife and manager, Lucille, who passed away in 2004.

He is survived by a nephew, Clifton Anderson, and nieces Vallyn Anderson and Gabrielle DeGroat.

Rollins made his breakthrough in his late teens when he joined Thelonious Monk’s band. He soon found himself playing alongside Miles Davis and Bud Powell, entering the recording scene even before completing high school.

However, like many jazz musicians of the late 1940s and early 1950s, Rollins’ career nearly faltered due to heroin addiction at 19. He endured two jail sentences — one for ten months in 1950 and another for three months in 1953 — ultimately ending up homeless in Chicago. In 1954, he admitted himself to a hospital in Lexington, Kentucky, for rehabilitation.

Upon leaving the facility, he experienced a spiritual awakening, which helped him overcome his addiction.

“I began to have a deeper philosophy of what life was about,” he told the AP in 2007. “From that point on is when my consciousness awoke.”

After his discharge, Rollins returned to Chicago and joined the Max Roach-Clifford Brown quintet. In 1956, he released a solo album, “Saxophone Colossus,” which established him as a leading saxophonist with its minimalist, hard bop sound and remains one of his most significant works.

In the next two years, Rollins explored a new direction by forming a pianoless trio for three groundbreaking albums: “Way Out West,” “A Night at the Village Vanguard,” and “Freedom Suite.”

At the height of his fame, Rollins withdrew from the public eye, spending two years practicing in solitude on a walkway of the Williamsburg Bridge.

“The thing that I am most proud of in my career is that fact that I was able to see beyond being popular and all that stuff,” he told the AP in 2007, “and do what my inner self told me to do.”

During his hiatus, jazz transitioned from bebop’s rapid, intricate sound to the more chaotic free jazz. When Rollins returned in 1961, he embraced this new style, which polarized his fans. In the mid-1960s, he extensively toured Europe, alternating between traditional and avant-garde styles. He also created original music for the soundtrack of “Alfie,” the 1966 British film that launched Michael Caine’s career.

A trip to Japan introduced Rollins to Zen Buddhism, inspiring another extended break that lasted into the early 1970s.

When Rollins began recording again in 1972, he was recognized as a legend and gained broader mainstream acceptance. That year, he received a Guggenheim fellowship and was inducted into the Downbeat Hall of Fame the following year. He appeared on the “Tonight Show” and transitioned to performing in concert halls instead of nightclubs.

Theodore Walter Rollins was born on September 7, 1930, in Harlem to a musically inclined family. His father, a naval petty officer, played the clarinet, his sister was a pianist, and his brother played the violin.

At age eight, Rollins’ parents encouraged him to learn the piano, but he was more interested in playing baseball. By the age of 11, his fascination with the saxophone led him to persuade his parents to buy him an alto saxophone.

Although he struggled to afford lessons and was largely self-taught, Rollins quickly rose to prominence, switching to tenor sax and performing in clubs at night.

He leaves behind numerous unreleased recordings and expressed no intentions of directing their future use.

“After I get out of this planet I’m not going to have any say about what’s going on, so I’m not worried about that,” he told the New York Times in 2020. “And, boy, I agonize over my music; I won’t have to agonize about it anymore. Thank God.”