Sonny Rollins
The Bridge

"The Bridge": the bridge. A literal bridge, the Williamsburg Bridge, where it seems Sonny Rollins was forced to practice so as not to disturb the neighbors. But also a bridge as a symbol of overcoming a troubled period, marked by uncertainty, which kept him completely inactive for two years. That this great tenor saxophone player was plagued by doubts, especially artistic ones, can be understood by peeking into his biography, from which emerges a large number of contacts and influences undergone (and perfectly assimilated) from a young age. These range from the traditional master of the '40s, Coleman Hawkins, to the revolutionary Ornette Coleman, and it was likely the meeting with the latter, a promoter of absolute improvisational freedom and more (free-jazz), that was the most groundbreaking, and that imposed the long reflection break from which he would emerge triumphantly with "The Bridge" (1962).

Judging from the listening, it seems that during his reconsiderations Sonny Rollins acquired rather clear ideas regarding the issue of absolute freedom in jazz. Despite his extremely daring phrasing, sometimes unrecognizable compared to the initial theme, the balance of traditional jazz structures is not at all disrupted. We are far from the "creative chaos" of certain free-jazz records, also because the undeniable freedom of improvisation that Sonny allows himself is perfectly balanced by the clear clarity of the deep and rich voice of his tenor sax. Another factor of balance is provided by the discreet profile maintained by the rest of the band, in which stands out the versatile guitar of Jim Hall, who practically takes on the roles (both rhythmic and otherwise) normally delegated to the piano, absent here, and performs them more than excellently. The contribution of the other two members of the rhythm section is also sober but valuable: Bob Cranshaw on bass and Ben Riley on drums, replaced in one track by Harry T. Saunders. Jim Hall knows how to draw delicate and ephemeral notes from his guitar like soap bubbles during the leader's solos, but at the same time, when required, he proves capable of stringing together sparkling strands of notes with precise and defined outlines, to the point of being calmly considered the second soloist of this masterpiece.

The album starts off in an atmosphere of cheerful lyricism with "Without A Song", a beautiful brisk yet not frenetic track, in which Rollins shows he's capable of moving in just a few minutes from the absolute transparency of the theme exposition to the rich and elaborate (but not chaotic) clusters of notes of the subsequent solos, returning to the perfect initial lyricism in the splendid, evocatively slowed-down coda. Jim Hall's enormous contribution, in the dual role of faithful accompanist and skillful soloist, is noteworthy. "Where Are You" is the classic "ballad" to be listened to by candlelight. The sax voice is a sensual and deep caress, the guitar whispers vaguely Hawaiian notes, the bass is a soft and muffled vibration, the drums are barely brushed. A flaw? Yes, it's only 5 minutes long. "John S." wakes us up with a nice burst of energy, although at the beginning Sonny seems to want to have fun with a series of false starts, repeatedly playing the same snippet of theme. But once taken off, it becomes absolutely explosive, and Jim Hall, who follows him in every acrobatic move, is certainly no less, until the strange initial syncopations return to close the track. "The Bridge" is on the verge of frenzy, with the two soloists seeming to pass the baton in a speed and skill race. On the basis of an elementary initial nucleus, Sonny Rollins constructs various and complex virtuoso passages, always maintaining admirable clarity. For "God Bless The Child", a jazz standard also known in the Billie Holiday version, the same as said for "Where Are You" applies: the listener is requested to have a candle or, failing that, at least a lighter. Already the first ballad seemed miraculous, but it's known that in music, and especially at these levels, miracles repeat. "You Do Something To Me" serves as an excellent "pendant" to the initial "Without A Song" and it's no coincidence that it closes the album with the same lyricism and with a similar rhythm, lively but not overly so. Sonny Rollins presents the melody in perfect solitude, almost as if he were still on that bridge where he practiced. But in the meantime, a lot of water has passed under that bridge, and this demonstration of skill, and at the same time, of balance, is the evident proof.