Grammy-winning tenor saxophonist Sonny Rollins begins his eighth decade of life today, and will celebrate with a headlining concert at the Beacon Theatre on Sept. 10. I spoke with the man the New York Times recently called “indisputable jazz royalty” about his relationship with Japan and his inimitable philosophy of life.

What are your thoughts about turning 80?
Well, actually, I don’t think too much about it because I’m a pretty busy fellow. It just so happens that I looked at the calendar, and here I am, 80!

After the New York concert, you have three Japanese gigs in October: Sapporo, Tokyo, and Osaka. Can you describe your history with Japan?
Well, I’ve been going to Japan for many years now, I think—since 1963, maybe. And regularly, I go there…the first time I went to Japan, I was taken by the culture, and I was very much looking forward every time I would get a chance to go back. I used to spend a lot of time in these areas—temples, and examining the Zen Buddhist culture, and the various musical instruments that are indigenous to Japan. My wife and I were very fond of going to the Noh theater, and we used to go there every time we got a chance to when we were in Japan. I really love the culture; I love the Buddhist culture, and that’s old Japan.

So, that’s what I always looked for; sought out; yearned for that; when I was away from Japan. It was always, “Yeah, I wish I could get back and smell the country,” you know? The bamboo forests, the sound of the shakuhachi [Japanese flute], and the very peaceful places. The last time I was there—I was there on vacation recently—and I was at Kamakura, it’s among the places that are really so beautifully serene and peaceful. So I really enjoyed that. Of course, I’ve been to Kyoto many, many times, and Nara, and many other parts of the country.

So, I love Japan. As I said, the first time I went there, I got a feeling of great—when I got off the plane, I just felt happy for some reason. And I felt as if I was rediscovering some place that I’d been to in a previous life or something. And I still maintain those feelings about Japan today.

Was there any hesitation about going there the first time regarding American sentiments after the war? Did you have any impressions that were turned around based on the reception you received?
As you know, music is universal…jazz music is a peaceful force, and it’s received all over the world, and people in Japan are very interested in jazz music. They’re really knowledgeable about the music; they’re very interested in the people that play it, and they love it. So, when I went there, I went there as a musician, not as an American. Now of course, I am an American…as a matter of fact, I was involved with a group of people led by my late friend Mr. Oki, and we had a group of people that were doing yoga and spiritual practices and exercise and mediation. And he had a place in Mishima; when I went there one time, I [also] went to the site in Hiroshima where the atomic bomb fell…

The Peace Memorial Park and Museum.
Exactly. So I went there with my group from Mr. Oki, and I actually played—I took out my horn and I played a piece in commemoration of the hope that these types of acts by people all over the world wouldn’t happen again. Of course, you know, I realized that we are all men and we’re ignorant men, so we still feel that it’s okay to fight each other and to kill each other; this is just the state of humanity at this time. So I understand that, and no group of people is exempt from this very unfortunate aspect of human behavior. But I was very touched by all of these things. And yes, I was in Hiroshima, and—as a matter of fact, you may not know this, but I was living down six blocks from the World Trade Center, and I was in my apartment 40 stories up when the 9/11 planes came in. So you see, people don’t really learn; it’s not in the nature of human beings en masse to learn these things. It’s sort of part of our—something that we have to learn maybe in another world or whatever.

But back to Japan, yes, I was very sympathetic to what happened, and I have close friends—Japanese friends—I’ve had them over the years. And [they’re] people that think the way I do, which is that war is, you know, the subject of people that are ignorant, and most of humanity is still ignorant, you know? We still hate; we want to get everything for ourselves, we’re selfish, we’re greedy, and this is the state of the world. So we have to accept that, I have to accept that, and try to be a more enlightened person myself, regardless of what other people do. I just have to make sure that I don’t act like other people.

To see some of these places and things in history with your own eyes really influences your way of thinking more than if you just read about it in the news or see it on TV.
That’s right.

You’re also touring Europe in November. At your age, are there any aspects about performing live that are easier and more comfortable than in the past?
Well, I play jazz. Jazz is a live art, as I just explained. Jazz is always happening; it’s always new, it’s always fresh. And that’s sort of the style that I exemplify in my type of jazz. So, live performances are always great. Of course, it’s a great responsibility on me, because I’m very concerned about my audiences. I’m a person that’s always looking for the perfect performance, so I’m sort of strict on myself; I’m a perfectionist. So, it’s harder sometimes to always have things—the performances—go as well as I would like them to go. But it’s a wonderful opportunity, having no comparison, to be performing live before my audiences.

Jazz and blues musicians tend to stay unretired and remain performers to the end. Besides just getting paid, what other reasons do you think factor into that ethic?
I can’t speak for other musicians, [but] I’m sure that many musicians are not independently wealthy, so they probably can use the money that they get for performing. I’d say that plays a part in it. Also, in my case, I am still searching for a type of musical sound, and a perfection, that I haven’t quite gotten to yet. I think it’s within my grasp, and I’m still searching for that. So when I perform, I’m still involved in trying to reach my apogee, and trying to fulfill myself in my profession. So I’m playing for that reason, and the fact that I have fans [and] people still like me, it’s great, because that gives me an opportunity to try to reach my high point, you know? So it’s a perfect marriage, the fact that I have fans and audiences who appreciate what I’m doing, because I’m still trying to get it perfect. So that’s why I keep playing.

I can also—you know, we live in a material world, and as I said, musicians don’t make a lot of money, so they need money to survive in this material world we live in, so that’s probably some consideration also. But my basic reason why I’m playing is because I’m trying to reach a higher point, a higher level; I’m trying to create the perfect solo, the perfect concert, you know? Because I think it could raise consciousness; raise the level of life by doing that, you know. I’ve gotten close at times, but I want to get closer; I know I can get closer. I know that there’s more music in me if I can get all the elements together to make it happen, so that’s why I am playing.

If you’re always improving over time in regards to having that perfect concert, how do you feel about your past work? Do you look at those differently as things from another era, or is it all part of a continuum?
Well, it’s a continuum, and maybe back in 1957, what I played then fit what was happening in 1957. But jazz is—as I’ve tried to indicate—jazz is not a static art. Jazz is something which is constantly moving; it’s just like life. Different elements come into jazz, and different people come into jazz…so what might have been great in 1957 is great, and it probably has some merit today. But this is 2010, and there’s a lot of elements and conditions which have changed the world to an extent, and I believe jazz is a type of music which has to react—it’s part of what jazz is, is to react to what happens, what’s happening now, what’s happening today. So, without trying to take away from any great jazz—and there’s lots of it—which has been done in the past, there’s contemporary music that has to be made today, because jazz is a living, breathing art form; it’s not a museum piece—you don’t go to the museum and sit down and listen to jazz from 50 years ago.

That’s like European classical music; that’s different. Jazz is a breathing art form, and it changes, and changing for the better—that might not be exactly the way I want to say it, not necessarily better, but it’s more inclusive; it’s inclusive of what’s happening today. So it’s got to be different than it was 10 years ago, 20 years ago, 30 years ago, 40 years ago. See, I’m still alive, I’m still playing; I’m still hearing things that I didn’t hear then. And I’m not one to denigrate any music that came before; it’s all great. But jazz is alive today, and if I’m playing jazz, I’ve got to somehow demonstrate that.

Do you ever listen to any of your older recordings? Do you compare it to anything or listen to outside opinions?
[laughs] You mean do I want to shoot the critics?

Not necessarily, I’m just curious to see what your definition of this high art that you’re striving to achieve by continuing to do what you’re doing is.
Well, I can answer yes, sometimes I want to shoot the critics. I mean, I’m saying this with a sense of humor and I hope you understand it.

Yes, absolutely.
I’m not a violent person. I hate guns; I wouldn’t shoot anybody. You know, critics that have their say—most critics, if you look at history, you’ll find that most critics are failed musicians themselves, and what they’re criticizing is something that they failed at. So, you have to take into consideration that very many critics are not necessarily going to be of value if you’re looking to find out what I did wrong and what I did right…for the earlier part of your question, no, I don’t listen to myself. I do record myself, and one of these days, if I have to listen to my stuff back or try to make a record of live performances, I listen to it then. But generally, I can tell myself that I have a successful performance, and because it’s as I’ve said, I’m my strongest critic, so there’s nothing that a critic can say about me that I haven’t already thought about myself. I’m pretty severe on myself, you know, because I’m striving for something pretty high, and I’ve been fortunate to play with some great musicians who’ve been in those high realms. So I don’t listen to my own stuff, but as I’ve said, I record it so I can listen to it sometime in the future; if I make a really good concert, then I put it in the back of my mind and I listen to it later.

Read part 2 here.

See Sonny Rollins @ 80 at the Beacon Theatre Friday, Sept. 10, 2124 Broadway (between West 74th and 75th Streets) at 8:00 p.m. Tickets are $39.50 to $124.50; go to www.beacontheatre.com/events/sonny-rollins-910.html for details. Visit Sonny's homepage at www.sonnyrollins.com.

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