San Francisco Jazz Fest
Masonic Auditorium, San Francisco, CA
October 20, 2006
One of the last remaining titans of the 1950s improvisational jazz
explosion, the saxophone colossus Sonny Rollins opened this year’s San
Francisco Jazz Festival on Friday, October 20.
High atop swanky Nob Hill, the scene at the statuesque Masonic Center
was fairly highbrow—more classical than jazz—though in an anyone goes,
dress casual San Francisco way. The crowd ranged from thirtysomething
hipsters to genteel older couples who could have seen Rollins at the
Jazz Workshop in North Beach.
With white hair, his trademark jazzman’s big-jaw white beard, and a flowing white shirt, Rollins, who turned 76 in September, walked onto the Masonic’s vast, semi-round stage with a lilting gait that bespoke bad knees. He waved off the standing ovation from an enthusiastic crowd that had not yet heard him play a note. With two guitarists (Bobby Broom on archtop and Bob Cranshaw on 5-string electric bass), two drummers (Victor Lewis on the kit and Kimati Dinizulu on congas and a table full of percussion instruments), and two horns—Clifton Anderson on trombone, and Rollins—the band was a bit like Noah’s ark. The gracious saxophonist’s speaking voice was thin and raspy, but when the man stepped up to blow the tenor sax, you knew it was this giant of jazz, Sonny Rollins, his fingers dancing across the valves, his pipes at full power. When he sensed his break coming, he’d lunge across the stage and into his horn, which he held to himself at an angle, his head and body tilted to the left, into the brass bell.
The music was warm rather than complex, with blues inflections and Afro-Caribbean rhythms. The band opened with the title track from the just-released Sonny, Please. Rollins and Anderson alternated leads and played the melody line together. The next tune, “Nice Lady,” was a melodic calypso, highlighting Dinizulu’s African conga style.
All night, Rollins would step into a solo, bend variations on the song’s main theme and take out into the heavens, then return to play the theme with Anderson. After that, he would bow out and let another soloist shine, the band stretched out over the changes.
Broom played mostly subdued rhythm—the piano parts—but still reveled in an occasional solo or in interplay with Rollins. Cranshaw stuck to a solid-state electric bass guitar tone all night, which sometimes lent a hotel lounge, rather than a hard jazz, vibe to the band’s overall sound. But it also contributed to the upbeat vibe on the calypsos. One of the night’s highlights was an astonishing extended conga solo by Dinizulu during the standard “Stairway to the Stars.” Lewis’ drumming, too, was crisp, fast, and stunningly on.
Noel Coward’s “Someday I’ll Find You” (which is on Sonny, Please) and Irving Berlin’s ballad “They Say That Falling in Love Is Wonderful” were more traditional romantic numbers.
During a 20-minute jam on the show-closing N’Orleans-esque calypso “Global Warming,” it was hard to escape the understanding that this here is the wellspring from which arise all jams. Even the old-timers were on their feet, clapping in time to this earthy groove, and smacking their dancin’ calves against their seats.
The band left the stage, but after another standing ovation—this one earned—Rollins re-emerged from the curtains. He waved to the crowd rather than playing an encore. He must have been exhausted. The band had been on for two hours and played six songs. All in all, a powerful reminder that giants still walk the earth. Richard B. Simon
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