Strode Rode
A piece’s energy can be gauged by how much it makes you want to tap your foot along to the beat. “Strode Rode” from Sonny Rollins’ 1956 Prestige album Saxophone Collosus demands from its listener more than just quiet appreciation — it’s a torrent of jumpy rhythms, saxophone virtuosity, and an almost religious adherence to swing; there’s no way one can be still!
Rollins is a living piece of history. Born in 1930, his lifetime achievement in the arts is unparalleled: at least sixty albums over seventy years and something like 10 honorary doctorates from schools the likes of Julliard. His works span almost the entire evolution of jazz and his fluency with all these styles truly makes him ‘the greatest living improviser’ — but his playing speaks well past his accolades.
The staggered theme of Strode Rode is curious and quirky, it’s interesting how Rollins is able to give each of those notes (all the same note) a different personality by altering the inflection, length, and shape. This kind of toying with rhythm makes the piece fit in the category of hard bop. Musical skill and synergy within the band is undoubtedly important as they need to hit that note at the same time with no sound in between.
So much of the energy and movement comes from the drummer, Max Roach, who is considered one of the most quintessential drummers of the era. It is awe-inspiring how he is just able to explode into full blown rapid swing from nothing — create a metallic flurry of the cymbals that creates a mountainous terrain upon which Rollins can climb and twist and spin.
I encourage you to listen to the piano as well — it’s not always blaringly noticeable (a sad reality for any jazz pianist) but it dances with and around the saxophone, creating context with complex voicings, and reinforcing rhythms through its blasé entrances and exits. The highlight of the piano playing (apart from the brilliant bop solo) is just after the minute mark, where there is a silence — apart from the bassist to keep time — where Rollins plays unaccompanied. The drums come in gradually and logically but the piano makes a romantic-era-esque chordal ascension to mark the returning of energy to the piece. The rhythm section may not always be strongly heard, but is salient in bringing the diversity and erraticism into the great pieces of the era.
Such pieces remind us that jazz doesn’t always fit this tranquil picture of reclining on a balcony and sipping a coffee, or something one plays to ‘set a romantic mood’ for a special guest — this kind of mindset limits the listener to a few albums. The spirit of the genre lies in the rebellious and powerful nature of improvisation: it’s demanding and nerve-wracking, sometimes only happening to be quietly so.
