Sonny Rollins: Silver That's Golden

Sonny Rollins's new two-CD Silver City (Milestone) is designed to make a point. Subtitled A Celebration of 25 Years on Milestone, it's meant to counter the perception, as summed up by Chip Stern in the accompanying liner booklet, that "Rollins invokes pure magic in concert but makes sucky, half-assed records."

This suckiness has long been explained as being, in part, due to the tenor-saxophonist's discomfort with the studio recording process (which makes a mystery out of the dozen or so masterpiece albums he made during the 20 years pre-Milestone) and more convincingly as his rather perverse post-'70s penchant for mediocre and/or quasi-fusion rhythm sections. Yet even as these back-up bands have become predictable, Rollins has continued to enhance his status as an icon of improvisation -- that elusive art that's some mix of method and mojo. Cutting through the ensuing creative dissonance has seemed, for many of us, too much like work. And so Silver City is welcome because it does make a point, even if that turns out to be a kinder version of the complaint made by Stern. Which is to say that many of Rollins's Milestone albums have been only half-assed; like the curate's eggs, parts of them are excellent.

This excellence comes across most forcefully on two cuts from '78's Don't Stop the Carnival, a live album (hmmmm . . .). "Autumn Nocturne" opens with one of those long, unaccompanied solos that Rollins is famous for, a context in which he usually manages to sound simultaneously controlled and maniacal, dazzling, but with a complicated exhilaration. His gnarled multiphonic tone can be as blunt as a fist, his phrases sound as much ejected as offered up. On "Silver City," from the same set, he starts out deceptively laid-back, catches up with the always energetic drummer Tony Williams, then proceeds to lead him around by the nose. Rollins never seems to pause to collect his thoughts. It's another challenge for the listener; he demands you be both tough and quick.

"G-Man" (from '86, also live) is a more accessible tour de force. Built on a simple riff, it relies on Rollins's ability to ratchet up the intensity for the length of a 15-minute solo -- which may explain why this one went over big with some rock critics, since that's a guitar hero's strategy. But Rollins does more than just turn up the heat; he agitates the emotional atmosphere until a sort of delirium is suggested, something far from being all fun and games.

That's just the up stuff. There are also ballads with his commanding conversational style, and the trademark calypsos, wherein he beats the stuffing out of lilting little melodies. On balance, then, this is an excellent collection. In fact, it's Sonny Rollins's best release in 25 years.

-- Richard C. Walls