Who is the loneliest monk?

By Todd Stadler · Wednesday, September 19, 2007 6:30pm

My workplace is next door to the Portland Jazz Festival's office downtown. They have a poster on their door for a Sonny Rollins concert, which features a quote proclaiming him "the last jazz immortal."

I'm not here to question Rollins' reputation — heck, I'm much more familiar with the work of his brother, Henry, than I am with Sonny's music.

But it does bring to mind several questions. Why is he the last jazz immortal? What happened to the other jazz immortals?

Did Mr. Rollins, tiring of undying improvisation, marry a pop mortal so that at least his offspring might not be forced to endure the unbearable burden of eternal riffing, constantly yearning to take an ordered phrase and repeat it for a century or so?

Were the other jazz "immortals" really immortal in the first place, or did it just feel that way after their solos passed the seven-minute mark?

Or did Mr. Rollins behead the other jazz immortals in order to gain what is known as the "allegroning"?

Wow. Did I really just attempt a joke involving The Highlander and Italian musical terms? I've never even seen The Highlander — in any form. I'm clearly hard up for ideas.

(The title of this article comes from the possibly apocryphal story in which MTV reporter Tabitha Soren, responding to Bill Clinton's saying he'd always wanted to play saxophone with Thelonious Monk, asked, "And who was the loneliest monk?" It seemed relevant when I started this article. But then, this article seemed clever when I started this article. Ah well.)