Classic Recordings, Sonny Rollins, 'A Night At The "Village Vanguard"'

When Sonny Rollins took to the bandstand at New York’s Village Vanguard on November 3rd 1957, it was instantly apparent that he’d be stepping out on his own terms. Having recently abandoned the conventional jazz formation - which, up to that point, had included a piano player or guitarist (if not both) - the saxophonist had already begun to experiment with the uncustomary practice of the chordless trio.

Speaking to Blue Note president Don Was, the 93 year old tenor titan reflects, "I felt that a piano sort of led me in a certain direction which was not what I wanted... [it] inhibited my freedom." Of course, Sonny had been dabbling with this format as early as March of that year, when the recording for his seminal Way Out West (1957) took place with the incomparable pairing of bassist Ray Brown and Shelly Manne on drums. At the time, jazz cats would routinely adopt the peripatetic concept known as ‘strolling’, in which all chordal accompaniment drops out and leaves the soloist to improvise over the remaining rhythm section on their Jack Jones. Here, the bandleader took this simple device and applied it to the music as a whole. The result? An extraordinary contrapuntal effect, carved by two opposing melody lines each in search of fertile sonic landscapes all the while supported by a hearty and pulsating backdrop of percussion.

Whilst its cowboy-and-cactus theme may have been little more than a marketing stunt, the musical concepts at play on this ranch-house recording were anything but. Whether tackling a ballad or a blues number, this trio discernibly broke new ground at a time when mainstream jazz was entering a state of flux – a good case in point being Ornette Coleman, the pioneer of musical freeness who, having spent time around the saxophone colossus in Los Angeles towards the late fifties, would soon go on to drop all hints of chordal accompaniment from his lineup for a large portion of his career.

But back to the Vanguard. Rollins’ was to be the debut album recorded at the hip Greenwich Village venue; a ‘double premiere’ in the sense that it showcased his live act for the first time as well. Who better to inaugurate this newfound tradition than Blue Note Records, with master producer Rudy Van Gelder at the helm? But despite what the presentation of A Night At… might have you think, its title is only half-true. Having assembled two distinctive lineups, two sets were recorded that day – one in the afternoon, and one later that same evening. And it’s those master tapes, made during that fateful postmeridian session but only reassembled a short time ago, that are being released for the first time.

With the original album mixing up the order of events, more up-to-date releases (like the double-volume CD from 1987) have sequenced the material in chronological fashion – with only two takes from the afternoon session ever having reached our ears. As can be heard, Sonny alternated between a pair of ensembles on the day; both equal in instrumentation, but each one totally unique in sound. During this period (and without a working band), he had built up the reputation of a fierce taskmaster, and was no stranger to firing musicians who clashed with his creative vision then and there on the spot. What we get to experience are the results of a persevering perfectionist, an artisan bent on augmenting the hard bop lexicon with the service of players he considered serious enough to invite along for the ride.

Upon its release in 1958, listeners were initially treated to just one cut from the afternoon set: Dizzy Gillespie’s ‘A Night in Tunisia’. That this tune was reprised as part of the evening’s performance as well is no cause for concern; it has since gained a companion in the release of the early rendition of ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin’ on More From The Vanguard (1975). Both of these and many more standards now find their way onto contemporary reissues. Without wanting to undersell these stellar musicians, it's almost amusing to imagine the rhythm section of Donald Bailey and Pete LaRoca packing up and leaving as soon as the session had ended, only to brush past Wilbur Ware and Elvin Jones as they exit via the club’s entrance, their vacant seats still warm. 

It's clear from this tour-de-force recording that neither band was disadvantaged by the pared-back approach its leader had arrived at. Instead, witness the subtle expansion of jazz vocabulary beyond the boundaries of modish trends of the time. With the unspoken restraint that only a chordless trio can provide, the stage is set for these players to navigate their way around these principles and really let loose. As for Rollins' pursuit of authentic expression, the best was yet to come. Meet you at The Bridge...