Stuart Brinin

Often hailed as the last jazz immortal, 77-year-old tenor sax legend Sonny Rollins has helped shape the course of American culture for more than half a century with his brawny tone, gift for thematic improvisation, and uncanny skill at exploiting rhythmic freedom. Beyond his pervasive influence as a player, composer, and bandleader, Rollins exemplifies the jazz musician as moral force, often taking forceful but unideological stances on human rights and environmental issues.

He returns to Zellerbach Hall for a Cal Performances concert on Thursday, April 3, with a pianoless band including longtime bassist Bob Cranshaw, trombonist Clifton Anderson, and guitarist Bobby Broom.

Even before he started recording as a teenager in the late 1940s with bebop pioneers such as trombonist J.J. Johnson and pianist Bud Powell, the Harlem-raised Rollins displayed a presence beyond his years. "When I was a youngster, around 12 or 13, we had a little softball club, and the guys made me the president," Rollins says, still sounding a little mystified by the respect he effortlessly engendered. "I wasn't the oldest guy in the group, but they made me the president of the club, so it may be something in my constitution or my bearing," Rollins continues, speaking by phone from his home in the Hudson River Valley. "I certainly don't enjoy telling people what to do, so it's sort of funny when you think about it. I'm a bandleader like Miles Davis, I don't like telling people anything. If they're playing with me they should know what to do."

There's nothing mysterious about Rollins's impact as a player. Possessed of one of the most glorious sounds in jazz, he is a volcanic improviser capable of reeling off ten-minute solos that build thematically while generating extraordinary momentum. Rollins's penchant for West Indian rhythms gives his music an infectious buoyancy that works in counterpoint to the muscular weight of his tone.

Along with Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young, and John Coltrane, Rollins defined the tenor sax as the dominant horn in the jazz canon. He's composed more than a half-dozen jazz standards, including "Oleo," "Doxy," "Sonnymoon for Two," "Tenor Madness," and the calypso anthem "St. Thomas." But he also has a knack for turning the unlikeliest tunes into effective jazz vehicles. Rollins kicks off his first LP, the 1955 Prestige album Worktime, with a harrowing version of "There's No Business Like Show Business." And on his Riverside debut, 1957's The Sound of Sonny, he tears through "Toot, Toot, Tootsie," a tune indelibly associated with Al Jolson.

To this day, just about any Rollins performance is likely to include a Tin Pan Alley tune from left field. According to guitarist Broom, Rollins has been exploring Noel Coward's "Someday I'll Find You," a piece he first recorded on his seminal 1958 Civil Rights statement, Freedom Suite.

"I get a kick out of watching Sonny and Bob Cranshaw," Broom says. "They just go back to their youth, drawing on their memories of all these tunes. But Sonny can find material anywhere. During my first stint with him, he did the Dolly Parton hit 'Here You Come Again.' Nobody would touch that! The thing about these songs, there's everything right with them. It's got a form that's akin to a standard. It's got a good melody and jazz standard–type chord changes. But do you have the cojones to take on a tune where somebody might look at you and say, 'What are you doing?!'"

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