The new year begins much warmer than usual in New York. Although I love bicycling in the park, 53 degrees on January third just doesn’t feel right. Is it El Niño, global warming or some eleventh hour omen foretelling a pyrrhic millennium apocalypse?
While I surf meteorological websites in search of facts, Lucille Rollins calls from upstate to invite me to a recording session the following Wednesday, Sonny’s first in over two years. Outside of the musicians, engineers and a significant other or two, non-participants aren’t present at a Sonny Rollins recording session. I appreciate this rare opportunity.