Rekindling the Jazz Vinyl Passion; Taking a Walk with Sonny Rollins

Back in action, feeling a little bit less burdened. To be clear: I have not lost my passion for collecting jazz vinyl, nor have a lost my passion for buying jazz vinyl. And certainly not for listening to jazz vinyl. I was never that much into selling jazz vinyl, so that was the real impetus of the last post. Just to be clear for anyone who may have had a different interpretation. In fact, I spent some time on eBay yesterday, perusing the listings and getting the same old rush of adrenaline. And, of course, the first record that caught my eye is one that I don’t own in an original pressing and have sought for many years: Lou Donaldson, Quartet, Quintet, Sextet, Blue Note 1537. This is an original Lexington Avenue pressing that looks to be in M- condition for

both the record and the cover. In fact, the pictures with the listing look pretty spectacular. This one is currently at about $430 with about 15 hours to go. I think it will sell for more than $1,000 and, as much as I’d love a copy (as much as I’d love THIS copy), I just can’t pull that particular trigger. So the hunt shall continue.

I’ve also been catching up on my email and found this interesting article from The New York Times. Apparently, they have a feature on “Walking New York” and they got Sonny Rollins to write about how he wound up practicing on the Williamsburg Bridge. Enjoy:

“In the late 1950s, I moved into a loft on Grand Street between Clinton and Suffolk. I used to go to Ratner’s to pick up pastries for my wife, Lucille. On her way home from work, she used to visit a man named Izzy and his wife, who ran a pickle store on Suffolk near Grand. We bought our chickens at a kosher butcher next door. We were welcomed on the Lower East Side, as an interracial couple. The rest of the world isn’t like that. That’s a special place.

The problem was that I had no place to practice. My neighbor on Grand Street was the drummer Frankie Dunlop, and his wife was pregnant. The horn I’m playing, it’s loud. I felt really guilty. One day I was on Delancey Street, and I walked up the steps to the Williamsburg Bridge and came to this big expanse. Nobody was there, and it was beautiful. I went to the bridge to practice just about every day for two years. I would walk north from Grand Street, two blocks up to Delancey Street, and then from Delancey Street down to the entrance of the bridge. Playing against the sky really does improve your volume, and your wind capacity. I could have just stayed up there forever. But Lucille was supporting us, and I had to go back to work. You can’t be in heaven and on earth at the same time.”