Audio
Charles A. Robertson : October, 1957

In this recording made at 3 a.m. during a trip West last March, Sonny Rollins is heard out of his customary context of a Max Roach group. It is his first trio endeavor, and is graced by the presence of bassist Ray Brown, of the Oscar Peterson Trio, and drummer Shelley Manne, who has more changes than usual to build a crackling tension when the tenor plunges into the two originals. Each side is programmed for an orderly exposition of three facets of the Rollins’ style, starting with a comfortable lope on the pop tunes I’m An Old Cowhand and more than ten minutes of Wagon Wheels. The tempo slows to a walk for a tender treatment of Solitude and There Is No Greater Love. Both end in a well-gaited prance on his originals Come, Gone and Way Out West. Rollins does some strange and wondrous things on his horn in this fine recording by Ray DuNann. Having left Max Roach in May, he announces on the liner his intention of working for his bachelor’s degree in Music.

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Cashbox : 08/03/1957

Rollins effectively leads the way on this Contemporary issue featuring the tenor sax artist, and his two able companions, Shelly Manne (drums); and Ray Brown (bass). Though there are several successful attempts in keeping with the set’s title (approximating a horse’s gait on Wagon Wheels, I’m An Old Cowhand), the pressing is essentially a smart series of intimate swing takes, with Rollins giving out with sparkle, and sensitivity. Fine jazz artistry.

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High Fidelity
John S. Wilson : September 1957

For almost two decades, Coleman Hawkins has been in the awkward position of being the outdated elder statesman of the tenor saxophone, respected but no longer emulated. During this time Lester Young has bene the root source for tenor men until the very sudden and recent ascendance of Sonny Rollins – a man quite obviously from the Hawkins school. Rollins was first noticed as part of what has been classified as the “hard bop” school, but he has been outgrowing that with remarkable rapidity. In Way Out West, the best recording display he has had yet, Rollins plays in a tone harder than Hawkins’, but with the same bully-boy swagger that constantly invigorates Hawkins’ work. With only bassist Ray Brown and drummer Shelly Manne to accompany him, Rollins reveals a probing imagination in covering two sides of an LP with ideas which are almost always intriguing, and which he works out with a sense of steadily unfolding excitement. There are two originals and such atmospheric standards as Wagon Wheels and I’m An Old Cowhand.

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Memphis Commercial Appeal
Unknown : 07/21/1957

Young tenor sax man Sonny Rollins gets behind a tune, pushes for all he’s worth and then watches it pick up momentum. A New Yorker, he seems to have felt the impact of the West on a recent tour, thus the subject of this album. An almost forgotten tune out of the 30’s, I’m An Old Cowhand, is an example of the melodies with which he works. Duke Ellington‘s Solitude is apropos, also, when you get to thinking of wide open spaces. The Rollins tenor is truly “funky,” despite overuse of that bit of jazz nomenclature. Support is forthcoming from Ray Brown, bass, and Shelly Manne, drums.

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Miami Herald
Fred Sherman : 09/15/1957

Contemporary has put out a big album by Sonny Rollins. Called Way Out West, it showcases the tenor sax star against a throbbing and walking bass played by Ray Brown and a fastidious bit of drumming by Shelly Manne. Three extraordinary men in a new kind of trio designed to show you why Rollins is today a top purveyor of tenor music. Only six tunes here, including An Old Cowhand and Wagon Wheels.

Those two, plus the Rollins’ title piece, serve to support the cowboy cover. It’s a warm and fat sound throughout.

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Minneapolis Star Tribune
Mercer Cross : 07/14/1957

Sonny Rollins, blossoming 25-year-old tenor man from New York, made his first trip to the west coast with the Max Roach quintet in March.

He got together at 3 a.m. one morning for a recording date with bassist Ray Brown and drummer Shelly Manne.

The three stayed up all night, playing together for the first time, to wax Way Out West.

Rollins, a young man of extraordinary talent, plays such unlikely jazz numbers as I’m an Old Cowhand and Wagon Wheels, and they come out surprisingly well.

Way Out West and Come, Gone are both Rollins compositions. The other two numbers are Solitude and There is No Greater Love.

The album is a showpiece not only for Rollins but for Brown and Manne. Superlatives are wasted on the latter two. They’re simply the best.

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Navy Times
Tom Scanlan : 07/27/1957

Minority view: Tenor man Sonny Rollins, a comparative newcomer to the big time, has received extremely high praise from many respected jazz authorities. I can’t imagine why.

You pays your money and takes your choice, however, and perhaps you might enjoy his new LP called Way Out West. Rollins gets excellent support from two superior musicians, bassman Ray Brown and drummer Shelly Manne.

In contrast to those who enjoy Sonny’s work, I find a disturbing insecurity and tenseness in his approach to jazz, his tone not “hard” (as they call it) but downright bad and more like a kazoo than a tenor saxophone, his ideas routine and cliché ridden, and his musicianship woefully limited for a man who has received such high praise from seemingly musically wise observers of the jazz scene.

Selections in the album include Solitude (this one really made me squirm, especially since it is such a warm tune), I’m An Old Cowhand, Wagon Wheels, There Is No Greater Love and an “original” by Rollins entitled Come, Gone which by any other name would still remain After You’ve Gone.

Jazz is largely a subjective matter and perhaps you will enjoy this album immensely. I did not.

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San Francisco Examiner
C.H. Garrigues : 07/14/1957

Rollins came out West geographically to make this one but any resemblance between it and West coast jazz are entirely imaginary. His ideas are still the marvelously inventive, tremendous-spontaneous, ever flowing ideas which made him the idol of New York style fans but the best you can say for his tone is that it is his own. He is backed by Ray Brown on bass and Shelly Manne on drums; these often outshine him and I believe he appears to better advantage with less imaginative, harder driving rhythm sections.

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Saturday Review
Wilder Hobson : 07/27/1957

I become increasingly addicted to the powerful modern tenor saxophonist Sonny Rollins, whose horn voice blends, among other things, an elaborative fancy recalling of the late Charlie Parker and a resonant strength suggesting Coleman Hawkins. Rollins’ supple invention, his wonderful rhythm and wit are finally displayed on Way Out West where his themes include the classics I’m An Old Cowhand and Wagon Wheels. He is accompanied by the superb Shelly Manne, drums, and Ray Brown, bass.

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Shreveport Journal
David Kent : 08/01/1957

Although an alto sax man like Art Pepper, Rollins is comparable in no way I can find. If you recall Coleman Hawkins at his peak in the 40s you’ll get a fair idea of what Rollins sounds like today… with some of the polish missing. There is a freshness in Rollins’ music that’s a delight to hear… and even his off-trail selections (I’m an Old Cowhand and Wagon Wheels) play right into his hand as a man who wants to “do it his way.” An unusual album well worth a listen. Shelly Manne on drums and Ray Brown on bass.

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Venice Vanguard
C.M. Weisenberg : 07/24/1957

I’m An Old Cowhand and Wagon Wheels are two songs I could very well do without, that is, until recently. The thing that changed my mine is this new Contemporary album featuring Sonny Rollins on tenor sax, Ray Brown on bass and Shelly Manne on drums.

Rollins attacks these traditionally Western tunes with all the swing and inventiveness of a blossoming jazz musician. He makes it seem so effortless to create swinging rhythms and melodies that one might wonder why everybody can’t do it, which is only one of the signs of talent. Along with making his music sound simple, Rollins has superb control of his instrument which he demonstrates throughout the album and his steady stream of ideas can even bring new life to such worn out tunes as I’m An Old Cowhand and Wagon Wheels.

Looking at the other members in the trio it is difficult to say who is more fortunate, Rollins or the jazz listener. Both Brown and Manne are outstanding jazz men on their individual instruments and the smallness of the group gives them ample time to develop their own ideas as well as provide a fine background of Rollins’ sax solos.

Rollins is a relatively new jazzman to me, but this recording alone would be enough to keep me watching or more. He has a smoothness and polish that helps create the jazz feeling rather than detract from it. His solos are like highly polished pieces of wood in a free form shape with clearly distinct and interweaving sections of grain. The trio has a refreshing sound and I can only hope that these musicians will get together again for another album.

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Washington Post
Fred Sampson : 08/18/1957

One of the most important precursors of the current “hard bop” school of tenor saxophonists is Coleman Hawkins. Without straining to show an exact relationship, it’s instructive to compare a new Hawkins LP (The Hawk Flies High) with a new LP by the leading hard-bop tenorman, Sonny Rollins (Way Out West).

The most important links between Hawkins and the hard boppers are tone and conception. Both have a big – often acridly edged – tone and a fiery, urgent conception. The veteran Hawkins and young Rollins share other traits that make them superior performers, regardless of stylistic labels.

Hawkins and Rollins have a well developed harmonic sense and feeling for form, which makes their solos organized wholes and with a beginning, middle and end. Each plays straight, or almost-straight, melody surpassingly well (in his LP, Rollins even invest the banal melody of I’m An Old Cowhand with freshness).

I don’t want to suggest the two are identical, however. Rollins. employs the broken meter of the bop school, while Hawkins swings with direct power. Rollins’ harmonic conception is more “modern,” although Hawkins is by no means outdated. There is more outward tension in Rollins, while Hawkins has the assured relaxation – covering latent tension – of a past master. Good examples of the last point are Rollins’ jagged solo on Wagon Wheels and Hawkins’ surging, controlled solo on Sancticity in the new LPs.

As for the records, both are superb in their own way. Rollins’ LP crackles with the nervous exhilaration and almost painful intensity of a young man who has newly mastered his horn. Hawkins speaks with the authority and effortless power of one long-acknowledged as the premier tenor saxophonist.

Rollins is accompanied by Ray Brown, bass, and Shelly Manne, drums. The spare texture of the trio and the wonderfully alive, close-up recording make each voice clear and important. Stripped to its essence, the music is raw and exciting. There are no placid moments here.

Brown plays remarkable solos (he is at once sonorous and agile on Wagon Wheels) and his accompaniments are in effect duets, especially on Way Out West and There Is No Greater Love. Manne’s drums are almost melodic in spots and always propulsive. Rollins’ best moments are in his forceful restatement of Solitude, the searing Come, Gone and the fervid Wagon Wheels.

Hawkins is in a larger group, consisting of Idrees Sulieman, trombone; Hank Jones, piano; Barry Galbraith, guitar; Oscar Pettiford, bass, and Jo Jones, drums. It’s a fine group – by far the most suitable Hawkins has had for a record date in years. (The Newport LP wasn’t from a record date.) The band achieves what the LP notes accurately describe as a relaxed looseness.

Hawkins proves on Sancticity, which is in the vein of Horace Silver‘s popular The Preacher, that no one can outswing him. He starts with a series of climbing phrases and then bursts into a full-bodied, tremendous solo. His Laura is a model of discreet, flowing balladry. In Juicy Fruit, a blues, Hawkins plays a gliding, medium-tempo solo. There are good spots from the others, too, notable Johnson and Hank Jones.

The recording is excellent, but flawed by a balance that puts Jo Jones too far in the background.

I’m waiting for some enterprising record company to pair Hawkins and Rollins on a record date. That would be something to hear.

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White Plains Reporter Dispatch
Don Smith / Ted Riedeburg : 07/31/1957

Tenor saxist Sonny Rollins is modest enough to admit that his musical career is still in the development stage. Why, then, does he attempt to satisfy an impulsive urge to record with only bass and drums as accompaniment? Lester Koenig’s excellent liner notes concerning Sonny’s new Contemporary album, titled Way Out West, try to justify this egotistic maneuver by blandly stating that “For some time, he (Sonny) had wanted to record without a piano.” Well, we’re concerned that Rollins is too big for his toots (couldn’t resist it) on this one. Even with the help of Ray Brown and Shelly Manne, the boy just stands there and honks nothing. It might have been better if only Ray and Shelly had played a duet a la Bauduc and Haggart on Big Noise from Winnetka.

One or the other should be able to whistle better than Sonny blows.

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Down Beat : 09/05/1957
Ralph J. Gleason : 5 stars

This album offers an unequalled opportunity on record to hear Rollins tenor almost isolated from any other instrument. It is exceptionally well recorded, there is no piano, Manne‘s drums never intrude, and Brown in many places plays an obligato accompaniment.

Thus Rollins’ style and his personal skill and sound stand in a way completely revealed. It is an unusual style with unexpected twists of phrase, a discontinuity of line, great use of space and prolongation of notes (there’s a repetition of a single note for a fadeout ending on Wagon Wheels that’s fascinating). His tone is blustering, sometimes like a great angry shout, at other times charge with emotion to the point of shrillness. He has a way of laying out the boundaries of an idea and then exploring within its perimeter in which all of these attributes are used quite well.

It takes a brave bull indeed to attack such tunes as Cowhand and Wagon Wheels. They are so heavily hung with the guilt of corny association that a strong effort is needed to break through the initial prejudice. Rollins makes it and commands your attention. For this feat alone, he deserves your respect.

True, he has the aid of the active imaginations and subtle techniques of Brown and Manne. On Cowhand, for instance, they begin with a clippity clop on the wood blocks. The tune contains an excellent bass solo during which there is some delicious drum work, (there’s one short, possibly unintentional tenor note in the middle of this) before Rollins returns again. When he plays the melody here, he does it in a gruff, sometimes almost awkward way, but still effectively. On Solitude and on the ballad, There Is No Greater Love, Rollins exhibits a more romantic mode than one expects from him normally. On the former tune he comes in crying like a great wounded bird. This is, though, a far cry from the usual rhapsodic rendition of Duke‘s classic.

On There Is No Greater Love and Solitude, Ray plays excellent solos and on the latter seems to be adding an obligato to Rollins. It is interesting to read in Les Koenig’s notes that Rollins digs the words of tunes as an aid in playing.

There are many unusual things about the endings of the tunes here – a great low note, a cosmic “ugh,” precedes the single note fade-out on Wagon Wheels, for instance. In all it is a remarkable sampling of the work of a highly important musician. His is a hard way (it is seldom pleasant jazz) and he reminds me of no one so much as Victor McLaglen in his great chaotic scene in The Informer when the huge man twists and turns and incoherently speaks but clearly gets across an emotion and a concept.

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Liner Notes by Lester Koenig
June 6, 1957

Sonny Rollins, the leader of and vital force behind this album, is a modest, sensitive, sincere and deeply probing young man who is just beginning to be uneasily aware that critics and musicians are hailing him as the new jazz voice, a “colossus,” the most creative horn man in jazz, “boss of the tenors,” the new Bird, etc.

The general public is not yet aware of Rollins; indeed there are many jazz fans who have yet to hear him. His present appeal is to those whose level of jazz awareness makes them able to respond to direct, honest music which makes no concession to popular tastes.

Rollins himself realizes that he is not yet at the height of his powers. He knows his style is still in the process of developing, and so his awareness of his present pre-eminent position in jazz is tempered by a sense of how much he has yet to learn, and a feeling of responsibility to the many people who have expressed their faith in him.

Rollins arrived at a decisive moment when the modern jazz revolt of the 1940s had spent its initial impetus, and it was possible not only to re-evaluate the basic jazz tradition, but to build upon it. An indication of this is the critical linking of Rollins with both Coleman Hawkins, who typifies the warm, melodic swing era style of the 1930s, and Charlie Parker, who invented much of the searing, brilliant, elliptical, iconoclastic style of the “bop” period of the 1940s.

Describing Rollins’ style in Down Beat, May 2, 1956, critic Nat Hentoff wrote: “Rhythmically, no tenor today swings any more authoritatively than Sonny and few are as sustainedly driven as he. His ideas erupt from the horn with bullet-like propulsion. Melodically, his conception is angular, and his lines are heatedly jagged rather than softly flowing. His tone also is hard, though not harsh. Rollins is close to nonpareil at the kind of playing he obviously prefers.”

Today, a year later, Rollins is playing with a fuller, warmer, more swinging tone, as sonorous at times as a cello. His melodic ideas are more flowing; while he fragments the time structure, and achieves variations which are marvels of spontaneous improvisation, he does not allow the listener to forget the original melody.

Sonny’s attitudes toward other musicians reveal his own musical tastes. “Hawkins was the most important influence when I first started to play. His way of improvising interested me. He had a very wonderful way of playing the chord changes. At that time, though, was most interested in whether it was swinging… of course I also did like Pres… I liked Byas, too. Parker has a conglomeration of all musical ideas I like. He was a big help to me in many ways. I’m in the same tradition, yet different. I’m not analytical. I can only emphasize that I’m still in a developing stage. The sax is a new instrument, there’s lots to be done. Actually, I’m trying for new things all the time. I’m changing, even from night to night on the job…”

Rollins was born September 7, 1931 in New York City. Unlike most jazzmen, he had no real interest in music as a boy. His mother started him on piano lessons when he was 9, but they didn’t take. Sonny rebelled, and after a month or two the lessons stopped. He went to P.S. 89, then to Benjamin Franklin High School from which he graduated in 1947. In 1944 he took up the alto sax, partly influenced by a cousin who played it. “My mother,” Sonny recalls, “scraped up the money and bought me one.” He studied music at high school, and at “a 25 cent lesson place,” but while he liked jazz, he was also interested in drawing and did not think of music as a career. In those days Coleman Hawkins was his idol. The great tenor saxophonist lived in the neighborhood, and Sonny remembers waiting on Hawkins’ doorstep for him to come home “just so I could see him.” Sonny still has a photo which Hawkins autographed to him in 1945.

In 1947, after finishing school, Sonny joined the union and began “gigging” around New York. “I wasn’t certain about music, though. My interest began to pick up at the time I made my first records in the latter part of 1948 with Babs Gonzales. After that I recorded with J.J. Johnson, Fats Navarro, and Bud Powell. I also started writing. J.J. recorded my first tune, Audubon.”

“In 1950 I went to Chicago for the first time, and worked with Ike Day, a great jazz drummer who died about four or five years ago. He was tremendous, and working with him was a great experience. I grew to love the city. When I came back to New York I didn’t really work steadily, just recordings and gigs around town until 1951 when I played with Miles Davis for about six months. I still hadn’t made up my mind music was to be my life’s work. But other people were serious about it; they seemed to appreciate my playing, and that helped me become more serious about it.”

In the next few years Rollins’ reputation began to grow; and he began to study music, all kinds, not just jazz. In 1954 he went back to Chicago to work at The Beehive, and remained there until he joined Max Roach‘s Quintet in November 1955. He remained with the Roach group until May 1957 when he left to “go out on my own.” Now extremely serious about music, Sonny plans to “find a place to settle, study, and work for my bachelor’s degree in Music.”

While this album is unusual in many ways, it was not done for an effect, or to be different. It was a spontaneous result of Rollins first trip West as a member of the Max Roach Quintet in March 1957. For some time he had wanted to record without a piano and the desire was reinforced by the fact that Ray Brown was in Los Angeles with the Oscar Peterson Trio, and Shelly Manne was also in town with his own group. If you had contemplated playing with only bass and drums, you would be hard put to find two better man than Brown and Manne, each an acknowledged master of his instrument, and each a clean sweep winner of the No. 1 spot in all three 1956 jazz popularity polls (Down Beat, Metronome & Playboy magazines).

Since all three participants were working nights, and both Manne and Brown were involved in studio recording calls during the day, the session was called for 3 a.m. The three had never played or recorded together before, and yet, gradually as Sonny produced the various tunes he wanted to play, and Ray and Shelly became involved in working them out, the three men achieved a total rapport. At 7 a.m., after four hours of intense concentration, during which they recorded half the album, and should have been exhausted, Sonny said, “I’m hot now.” Shelly who had been up for 24 hours, said, “Man, I feel like playing.” And Ray, who was equally tired, and had a studio call for the afternoon, just smiled. It was at this midway point that they made Wagon Wheels. Then they tackled Sonny’s uninhibited, imaginative original, which in honor of the occasion, he calls Way Out West. They had found their groove: both tunes (over sixteen minutes of music) were recorded within a half-hour.

It was Sonny’s idea to do I’m An Old Cowhand and Wagon Wheels, good examples of his special gift for finding jazz in what appears unlikely material. For him, music is not a thing apart from his life. Like many another New York youngster who had been raised on cowboy movies, he delighted in the idea of being “out West” for the first time, and it was entirely consistent with Sonny’s personality to express how he felt about being West in music. During the rehearsal of I’m an Old Cowhand he said he wanted “a loping along in the saddle feeling… I want that cat out on the range all the way,” he explained to Shelly. “If we can’t get it, we’ll do something else.” Later on, during the session, when he produced the sheet music for There Is No Greater Love, he read the words to Ray and Shelly and explained that while blowing he liked to think of the words and what they meant. “It helps me,” he said. And so No Greater Love becomes more than just a pretty ballad; even Sonny’s tone becomes fuller and warmer, and the performance communicates on a highly emotional level.

Because of the unorthodox instrumentation which leaves each musician so completely exposed, the listener has a rare chance to hear the sound and feel the personality of three unique jazzmen, two acknowledged masters, and a new star who stands on the threshold of a great career.

The cover photo of Rollins is by William Claxton, internationally known West Coast jazz photographer. It was Rollins’ idea to celebrate his first trip West posing in Stetson hat, holster and horn.