I once met the late jazz musician Walter Theodore “Sonny” Rollins (1930 to 2026). It was in the mid 90s on Manhattan’s 48th street at Rod Baltimore’s New York Woodwind and Brass Center. The shop had the best repair department so there were always some serious players around.
Consequently, as I was sitting on a step checking out my newly-repaired flute, no doubt playing through some “hip” patterns or something, I spotted some long, well-suited, legs passing me by. Then an instantly recognisable voice somewhere above said: “Sounds good man.” This was the same voice I had heard making effortlessly cool introductions on the live album A Night at the Village Vanguard (1957), (Sonny was no recalcitrant jazz microphone mumbler).
