In the world of strange, highly experimental, virtuoso-driven, avant-garde jazz, Saxophone Colossus can seem like an oasis, or an eye in the storm. This is not to say that Sonny Rollins is less talented, or bland, or anything like that. But the opening bars of “St. Thomas”, the first track, are comprised of some of the loveliest sounding jazz I’ve heard on this quest so far. Where Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, and Thelonious Monk consistently challenge me with their complex melodies, harmonies, and solos, Sonny Rollins crafts exquisite pieces that are very listenable, very digestible, while still proving himself to be an astoundingly talented player. Saxophone Colossus is a seminal record in the development of a new sort of jazz called “hard bop.” After the wild craziness of bebop pushed jazz past sonic boundaries, musicians began to explore in two contrasting directions. One direction was a more classical, composed, impressionistic style, known as “cool jazz”, pioneered by Miles Davis and Gil Evans (see my blog post on Birth of the Cool for more on that). The other direction took influence from the exploding popularity of rhythm-and-blues, striving for a style that retained the musical complexity of bebop, while remaining danceable, accessible, and fun to listen to. The Jazz Messengers and the Miles Davis Sextet were instrumental in popularizing this new style in the early 1950s, and Saxophone Colossus is saxophonist Sonny Rollins’ take on hard bop, where he combines the blues, Caribbean music, and some great saxophone soloing.

Rollins grew up in Harlem, New York, to parents originally from the Virgin Islands. That heritage is the source of “St. Thomas”, based on a traditional lullaby that his mother would sing to him as a child (The original tune comes from the English folk song “The Lincolnshire Poacher”). The entire band on Saxophone Colossus comes together to make this fantastic and now widely-renowned recording – Max Roach opens the track with the percussion, lightly tapping a sprightly beat. Later on, Rollins plays the main theme on the sax, with Tommy Flanagan and Doug Watkins coming in on piano and bass respectively. Rollins’ style creates a soft, delicate tone with the saxophone, breathy and wavering, in contrast to the straight, cleaner tones of some of his contemporaries like John Coltrane. Rollins also enjoys playing with rhythm – his first solo on “St. Thomas” is a prime example of how Rollins is concerned just as much with modulating the beat as he is the notes. Roach is the other amazing part of this album – if you listen closely on “St. Thomas”, you can actually hear how, during his solo, he actually imitates Rollins’ solo using only the percussion. The long drum solos of post-bebop jazz are probably the most challenging thing to swallow when you’re relatively uninitiated to the genre, but when you really listen closely to what’s going on, you’ll find yourself immensely rewarded by the rhythm section. Some of the record’s best moments come when Rollins and Roach trade off solos in a call and response style – this happens most thrillingly in “Strode Rode” and “Moritat”.

If you’ve been following along with the last few posts, you’ll notice that the jazz track recordings are getting longer and longer. As interest in bebop and post-bebop jazz grew, musicians began to grow away from the two to five-minute-long recordings and opted for tracks that were more like the live performance. While “Strode Rode”, the shortest track, is a relatively brief five minutes, the tracks only get longer, with the last track, the much discussed and analyzed “Blue 7”, clocking in at a whopping eleven minutes. This can be intimidating, but it’s also an opportunity for the musicians to really explore with their soloing, rather than try to cram things down into something that would fit on a 7-inch 45 record. And no better example of this is the challenging album closer, “Blue 7”. Monstrously long, with an improvised, avant-garde melody, it’s a slow-burning blues piece that goes on and on, and definitely falls much farther on the bebop side of the spectrum, as opposed to the blues side. It’s a really amazing look at the spontaneous creativity that jazz can allow, especially within the context of 1956, when Elvis Presley began to dominate the airwaves with rock and roll, and the musical landscape was beginning to change in ways that no one could foresee.

Saxophone Colossus is worth repeat listens to glean the various little treasures that hide inside. It’s also a pretty fun album to listen to, thanks to its dedication to playing jazz in a catchy rhythm-and-blues style. It’s like holding up the popular music of the 1950s to a twisty, fun-house mirror, creating sonic distortions that sometimes entertain, sometimes amuse, sometimes provoke thought and meditation on how the great cultural exchange of music goes on and on through the years.