A SONNY DISPOSITION

Recently, a record was released entitled “Alternate Takes: Sonny Rollins” (Contemporary C-7651). In it, the saxophonist was heard in six previously unissued versions of songs he taped in Los Angeles in 1957-58. Same occasions, same songs, yet the improvisations are so different from the original releases that the album is, literally, as good as new.

What the LP also points up is that Rollins’ style was not substantially different from what we hear today (and what Los Angeles audience may hear tonight when he plays at the Palace). Jazz styles mature early in the lives of most great artists, and even during a career marked by as many erratic moves as Rollins’ there have been few significant changes.

Now, as then, he picks the unlikeliest songs on which to add lib. Who but Rollins would blow his heart out on “Wagon Wheels,” “Toot Toot Tootsie” and “I’m an Old Cowhand”? But we have learned to expect the unexpected from this maverick.

He is, after all, the man who abruptly went into a two-year self-imposed exile, during which he studied Rosicrucianism, and could be found practicing his horn in the solitude of the pedestrian walk on the Williamsburg Bridge overlooking the East River. The Mohican haircut, the second retirement from 1968-71, the visits to Japan and India for studies of zen, yoga and the theories of Ghita, all became part of the Rollins mystique.

It may seem mysterious, too, that Rollins has been absent from the recording studios for a year and a half; but the other day he dismissed the subject quite casually:

“I just haven’t gotten around to it--it’s as simple as that. I’m just lazy and I fell behind. But I guess I’ll get into the studio to make at least one record this year.”

Not that he is inactive. Currently, he is on a tour that will take him to colleges, clubs and festivals with his regular touring group: Mark Soskin on piano, Tommy Campbell on drums, Bob Cranshaw on bass and his talented trombonist nephew, Clifton Anderson.

For those who have access to the Bravo pay cable TV outlets, he can be seen Monday and Feb. 26 in “Saxophone Colossus,” a documentary combining old footage (from a 1963 appearance) with new material shot in Tokyo and New York.

“The Tokyo part,” he said, “shows the world premiere of my ‘Concerto for Tenor Saxophone and Orchestra.’ It was arranged and conducted for me by Heikki Sarmanto, a Finnish musician whom I’ve know a long time, and who has done quite a bit of classical writing.

“The rest of the film was shot last August in Saugerties, N.Y. in a sculptured rock quarry that made a wonderful setting. There was only one problem: during the performance I jumped from one level to another, misjudged the depth and landed violently, breaking my heel. I finished the number in a prone position, stood up and realized I couldn’t walk, then they took me to the hospital.”

Although the John Coltrane era came to an end almost 20 years ago (Coltrane died in July 1967), to this day Rollins and Coltrane are the tenor saxophonists whose names are invoked in every discussion of the major influences over the past three decades. (There was one memorable occasion when, in an album called “Tenor Madness,” the two giants came together.)

Rollins conceivably might be even more firmly established in the public mind today had he followed up certain opportunities. While at Ronnie Scott’s club in London in 1965, he was commissioned to write the sound track for the Michael Caine film “Alfie.” There was no sequel to his initiative, but Rollins shrugs it off.

“I’ve thought about doing more movies, sure, but I’ve never had a really worthwhile offer. It’s probably because what I do is so singular in nature; someone has to want my sound specifically. Besides, my music is really up-front music, not for backgrounds.”

Two of the themes he wrote for the film, including the title number, are still in the “Great Moments With Sonny Rollins” LP (MCA-Impulse MCA 2-4127). Also in that album is “Hole ‘em Joe,” a typical reminder of the association Rollins has acquired over the years with calypso music. Though he has written several pieces that have become jazz standards--”Doxy,” “Oleo”--the tune most closely associated with him is “St. Thomas,” with its traditional island flavor.

Thanks to a track record of almost 40 years working for such legends as Bud Powell, Art Blakey, Miles Davis and Max Roach, Theodore Walter Rollins today is regarded by younger musicians as a revered father figure.

Rollins looks kindly on such relative newcomers. “Branford (Marsalis) is promising,” he says. “I like his work very much; and there’s another kid, Ron Holloway in Washington, who shows great promise. There’s a player named David Ware, who has worked with Cecil Taylor and others in that bag; he could do well, but he’s kind of offended by the music business and the shortage of good jobs.”

Rollins has the opposite problem, deciding which jobs to turn down or accept. Back from Europe a couple of months ago, he may return there next month, taking his small group to Germany. In the summer he was introduced his “Concerto for Tenor Saxophone and Orchestra” to audiences in Italy and Switzerland.

“Oh, yes, I guess some American orchestras will be doing it next year, and I’m sure I’ll record it eventually. It represents a change of pace and an area I enjoy getting into--occasionally. But it’s a lot of work, kind of frustrating, and to tell the truth, I think I enjoy playing in my own small context best of all. The interchange of ideas, the improvisation all the way--that kind of freedom to me is what really matters most of all.”