In the summer of 1959, Sonny Rollins vanished from the jazz scene. No farewell concert. No announcement. Just silence.
At 28, Rollins was already one of the most celebrated saxophonists in the world.
Albums like Saxophone Colossus and Way Out West had made him a critical favourite, and peers spoke of him in the same breath as Charlie Parker and Lester Young. He could have ridden that wave for years.
Instead, he disappeared from the clubs and recording studios, slipping into a two-year self-imposed exile.
New Yorkers who crossed the Williamsburg Bridge sometimes heard the faint wail of a tenor sax drifting over the East River.
If they looked closely, they might spot a solitary figure wedged into a sheltered corner of the bridge, horn in hand, playing for hours at a time. The sound mingled with the rumble of subway trains and the blasts of riverboat horns.
That was where Rollins spent much of his absence — not on tour, not in a studio, but in the open air, refining his craft. Sometimes he played 14 or 15 hours a day.
Cold weather meant gloves; passing strangers were rare. This was not performance. It was work.
How Rollins Ended Up on the Williamsburg Bridge
By 1959, jazz was shifting fast.
John Coltrane, Ornette Coleman and Miles Davis were breaking new ground with albums like Giant Steps, The Shape of Jazz to Come and Kind of Blue.
Rollins — already a giant in the bebop tradition — felt the pressure to push himself further.
“I wasn’t satisfying my own requirements,” he later recalled in conversation with The Guardian. “I have to sound good to myself before I can sound good to anybody else.”
Noise restrictions—and an expectant mother—in his Manhattan apartment block gave him a practical reason to seek another practice space. The bridge offered solitude, space, and the backdrop of a city in motion.
This wasn’t the first time he had stepped away.
Earlier in the 1950s, Rollins took a break from music to overcome a heroin addiction, returning with renewed focus and producing some of his best work.
The bridge sabbatical was different. This was about evolution, not survival.
The return of Sonny Rollins
By late 1961, Rollins felt ready to re-enter the jazz scene.
His wife, Lucille, had supported them both during his absence, and he was keen to get back to work.
On 30 January 1962, he walked into RCA Victor’s Studio B in New York. With him were guitarist Jim Hall, bassist Bob Cranshaw, and drummer Ben Riley.
Over two sessions, they recorded what would become The Bridge.
Few albums in jazz had been this anticipated. For two years, fans and critics had speculated about what Rollins was doing — and how it might sound.
Would he embrace the freer styles emerging around him? Would his playing be unrecognisable?
When The Bridge was released, the answer was… not exactly.
This was still unmistakably Sonny Rollins: muscular, inventive, with a tone that could bark or sing. But there were new edges too — sharper phrasing, a wider tonal palette, and a stripped-down quartet format that gave every note room to breathe.
The title track was taut and angular, with bursts of melody breaking out from rhythmic patterns. “John S” had a staccato urgency, while his reading of “God Bless the Child” nodded to his hero Coleman Hawkins with both reverence and wit.
The Bridge and Beyond…
The reception was respectful rather than stunned.
Some had expected a radical reinvention; what they got was a deepening of an already distinctive voice.
Still, the legend of those two years on the Williamsburg Bridge — and the image of a world-class musician turning his back on fame to practise in the cold — gave the album an aura that’s never faded.
Rollins continued to record and perform for decades, taking another sabbatical in the late ’60s before returning to a long run of globe-trotting tours.
He retired from playing in 2014 due to respiratory illness, but his standing as one of jazz’s greatest improvisers remains untouched.
And The Bridge?
It may not have changed the direction of jazz, but it remains one of the most hotly anticipated — and most mythologised — comeback albums the genre has ever seen.
Sonny Rollins: 1957-1963 Recordings
This selected discography, with recording dates rather than release dates, gives an insight into his work as a bandleader before and after the Williamsburg Bridge sabbatical.
1957
- June: Sonny Rollins, Vol. 2 (Blue Note) – Quintet with Thelonious Monk, Horace Silver, Paul Chambers, Art Blakey
- Sept: A Night at the Village Vanguard (Blue Note) – Landmark live trio recordings with Wilbur Ware and Elvin Jones
1958
- March: Freedom Suite (Riverside) – Politically charged trio album with Oscar Pettiford and Max Roach
- July: Sonny Rollins and the Big Brass (MetroJazz) – Mix of large ensemble and trio performances
1959
- July: Sonny Rollins and the Contemporary Leaders (Contemporary) – West Coast session with Barney Kessel and Shelly Manne
1962 (Return from Sabbatical):
- Jan & Feb: The Bridge (RCA Victor) – Quartet with Jim Hall, Bob Cranshaw, Ben Riley
- April: What’s New? (RCA Victor) – Includes collaborations with guitarist Jim Hall and bossa nova drummer Candido
1963
- Feb: Our Man in Jazz (RCA Victor) – Live at the Village Gate with Don Cherry, Bob Cranshaw, Billy Higgins, exploring freer improvisation
Looking for more? Check out our complete guide to the most essential Sonny Rollins albums here.
Featured (composite) image: Photo of Sonny Rollins by Marek Lazarski, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
Matt
The Bridge is interesting but not as good as previous recordings. I do like his Impulse recordings but after that he changesd his sound which I do not enjoy.
Dear Jazz Historian & Critic Mr. Fripp;
Candido de Armas Camero was a Cuban master percussionist, the inventor of Tumbadoras family. Mostly specialized in Hispanic Afrocuban rhythms.
A pleasure to read your articles.
Thanks to keep Authentic Straight Ahead Jazz alive!!!!
Forget about comeback albums — The Bridge, along with Sonny Rollins on Impulse, are my favorite Rollins sessions. For me The Bridge was an innovative and spectacular session, and still is. Why does music have to be a “radical re-invention” to satisfy the expectations of a bunch of judgmental music critics? I bought the LP when it first came out and The Bridge is still on my mp3 player. It’s a timeless classic that will never go out of style.