7/15/07
Sunny Rollins. The concert was really unexplainable. I had heard his music, heard of him, but I tell you, there is nothing like a live experience with a man, a group, that has worked at their craft for what may seem like eternity. You can tell, they are still perfecting it, as their faces still grimace to reach notes atop a mountain of blues, a well of jazz, and a encore of applause. With age, some might say comes wisdom, but so should the physiological and biological aspects. Through a mirror, or my eyes, Sunny looks well into his 60's, or mid 70's... or the wrong side of either But I tell you, his lungs are of that of a whale…a big Beluga whale. His chops where unrelentless in the arpeggios he played…the skits,the skats, the 15 minute solo which seemed like 40 minutes….and only to continue as if he had merely just warmed up. For me, who was once a saxophonists, his tenor older brother takes some serious lungs, but with more attitude. Sunny had the perfect compliment combo of both. Not once did he take a water break. Not once did the intermission between songs last more than 10 seconds at most. And the entire set lasted from 9:00pm-11:30pm. You tell me how many men his age have that type of character, let alone stamina to go that distance. Yes, he is in a class of 1. His entourage included a bassists, a guitarist, a drummer, a trombone player, and a talking drum percussionist. Each was exceptional in their own right. Guitarist ripped..simply said, he ripped a few big ones. The bassist bounced and bumbled through like train steaming down the valley of a cold mountain. The drummer was in space…beating on the earth like it stole something, and loving it. Now, I may regret saying this tomorrow, but my favorite in so may ways was the talking drum percussionist. Oh, he made love in front of an audience of a few thousand, and never once blinked. He never hesitated, he cried right, or was that the drum, cause that was some good loving. He smacked, flipped, rolled, tickled, brushed, and "ed" those instruments, as if they were the only things that meant anything in life to him. Maybe they were. I can't wait to feel that way about something. The trombonist was baaaad. I mean baaddd…that's baadd meaning good, not baaad meaning bad. Wicked licks, and precision on an instrument that you judge and guess where the notes lie, he was geographer..for he had mapped those metals poles before. Sliding through each note like a smoothie with all the right ingredients. Sunny, Sunny, Sunny. Dio ti benedico!!! You brought back that feeling I get when I know life is too good to me, and to live it fuller everyday… and I know you know, its been a while. Despite his old age, watching him made me feel younger an stronger…letting me know I can become something of myself. This is what I see in my parents, my brothers, sisters, and friends. Its when I go elsewhere and see others reaching for these heights, and understand the words we say, in whatever language we speak at the time, it makes the heart beat a little faster I hope to one day stand before an audience and be that light, that spark, that ignites the mind of others. If not, I can still learn more, in becoming a man. One with ideals, "broad, pure, inspiring ends of living." (W.E.B.DuBois, Souls of Black Folk) The glory of bringing about a birth and not an abortion feels good. If I could explain how good this last month has been to me, I would. I never knew how a world so far away, could be so kind and welcoming to me. I may have come alone, but I am leaving with many friends.