So yesterday was the 90th birthday of jazz saxophone COLOSSUS Sonny Rollins. I was introduced to his music, of course, through my brother Tony, who actually has one of his old horns. I had the pleasure of meeting Sonny once, and here's how it went.
In the mid-90's I worked for about a year as a runner at Clinton Recording Studios. This was back in my long-hair, pasty, still drinking-and-using days. Clinton was owned by an absolute madman, and staffed largely by people as crazy as me. There was a great deal of pot-smoking in the basement, in the room where they kept the plate reverbs. If you were a runner, like me, that essentially meant you were the LOWEST guy on the totem pole. You ran errands. You swept the sidewalk. You did an inventory of the goddamned plastic forks. You cleaned up dog-shit (Maureen McGovern's dog's dog-shit, but dog-shit nonetheless). And you helped musicians in and out of the place if they needed it. I still get flashbacks when I remember famed percussionist Cyro Baptista loading in for a soundtrack date. He brought every kind of instrument UNDER THE SUN. I don't know how he loaded it all into that modest-sized car. But jesus, he had every kind of clave, guiro, shaker, and box-of-nails in the world. It took us *both* about a year to get it from the street into the studio. You're welcome, dude! (PS you sounded great). And anyway, one did this kind of job to learn about recording, and watch the greats in action.
One day I found out that Sonny Rollins would be recording at Clinton, and I was kind of over the moon. I got to take him and his wife Lucille (who was producing the session) up to Studio A's control room via the freight elevator. We chatted -- I told him I was a fan. I told him about my brother being a player and having one of his old horns. They could not have been nicer or more gracious.
One of my jobs was to change out the coffee in the control rooms. That was policy. Even if the clients weren’t drinking it, they got a fresh pot every 2 hours. So you had to come in with a pot of fresh coffee and hot water, and leave with the empty old pots. You had to wait to get the high-sign from the assistant engineer that it was OK to enter and that they were between takes. You had to come in, change the pots, and leave as quickly and quietly as possible -- saying nothing, making no eye contact, being invisible. As an actor/performer, being invisible wasn't my strong suit, but I worked at it. And I certainly didn't want to disturb or piss off clients as awesome as the Rollinses.
So the time came to do the Studio A coffee change. I got the OK from the assistant, I came in fast and quiet, changed the pots, and started to the door. I then heard Lucille say, flatly,
"Chris."
Fuck. I thought, did I make a sound? Did I do something wrong? The assistant gave me a look, like "uh oh."
I turned, nervously and said, "Yes, ma'am?"
"Would you like to stay and hear a take?"
I mean....HOLY SHIT!!!! In my head I'm doing cartwheels. I think I stuttered before saying, "Uh...yeah...that'd be...wow, THANK you!"
And that's how, on October 7th, 1995, I got to hear Sonny Rollins, Bob Cranshaw, Tommy Flanagan, and Al Foster play "I've Never Been In Love Before." I was crouched down next to the island between the producers desk and the console, holding two empty coffee pots, watching them through the glass and listening through those sick monitors. It remains one of my best musical memories. Happy Birthday, Sonny! xoxo Chris O
