Sonny Rollins, the tenor saxophonist whose restless invention and unmistakable tone made him one of the defining voices of modern jazz, died Monday, May 25, 2026, at his home in Woodstock, New York. He was 95.

Spokesperson Terri Hinte confirmed the death, telling The Associated Press that no specific cause was cited but that Rollins had been largely housebound over the past couple of years because of various physical problems. Pulmonary fibrosis, a thickening and damaging of the lungs, had forced him into retirement years earlier.

For more than half a century, Rollins stood at the cutting edge of American music. Alongside John Coltrane and Charlie Parker, he was widely regarded as one of the most influential saxophonists of his era and one of the last living greats of the bebop generation. His death closes a chapter that stretched from the smoky bandstands of postwar Harlem to arena rock collaborations and Grammy-winning late-career triumphs.

From Sugar Hill to the Bandstand

Born Walter Theodore Rollins on September 7, 1930, he grew up in Harlem and Sugar Hill, a neighborhood thick with musicians who would shape jazz’s future. He absorbed the swagger of Louis Jordan before falling under the spell of Coleman Hawkins and Charlie Parker, moving from piano to alto saxophone before settling on the tenor that would become his signature.

His ascent was fast. Still in his teens, Rollins was already trading ideas with Bud Powell, Miles Davis and Thelonious Monk, and he got his first major break in his late teens when Monk invited him into his band. But the same scene that nurtured him nearly destroyed him. Hooked on heroin at 19, Rollins served ten months in jail in 1950 and three more in 1953 before checking himself into a federal hospital in Lexington, Kentucky, in 1955 for drug treatment.

“I began to have a deeper philosophy of what life was about,” he later said. “From that point on is when my consciousness awoke.”

The Colossus and the Bridge

In 1956, he released “Saxophone Colossus,” an album still regarded as one of the essential recordings in jazz history. Its centerpiece, “St. Thomas,” was inspired by melodies his mother had sung during his childhood, threading Caribbean rhythms into the mainstream jazz vocabulary. Rollins went on to pioneer the piano-free trio with releases including “Way Out West,” “A Night at the Village Vanguard,” and “Freedom Suite.”

Then, at the peak of his fame, he disappeared. Convinced he needed to grow, Rollins spent more than two years practicing alone on New York’s Williamsburg Bridge, often for hours at a stretch above the East River. His 1962 return with the aptly titled “The Bridge” became one of jazz’s most celebrated comeback stories.

He later said the accomplishment he was most proud of was seeing beyond popularity and following what his inner self told him to do.

Reaching Beyond Jazz

Rollins never stayed in one place for long. He recorded the soundtrack for the film “Alfie,” dabbled in funk and R&B textures, and introduced his sound to a rock audience by contributing the wistful saxophone parts to “Waiting on a Friend” on the Rolling Stones’ 1981 album “Tattoo You” — a solo, according to Noise11, devised after watching Mick Jagger dance.

The honors piled up: the National Medal of Arts, recognition as a Jazz Master by the National Endowment for the Arts, and two Grammys. His 2001 album “This Is What I Do” earned the award for best jazz instrumental album, and in 2006 he won best jazz instrumental solo for “Why Was I Born?”

That track came from “Without a Song: The 9/11 Concert,” a live recording captured in Boston just four days after the Sept. 11 attacks. Rollins had been evacuated from his apartment a few blocks from ground zero and had gone ahead with the performance at the urging of his wife and manager, Lucille, who died in 2004.

A Work in Progress

Even as critics anointed him the greatest living improviser, Rollins resisted the title, describing himself as “a work in progress.” He maintained a punishing practice regimen and toured into his 80s before pulmonary fibrosis stopped him. He played his last concert in 2012 and put down the instrument entirely in 2014.

What he missed, he said in 2020, was less the applause than the act itself. He told an interviewer about open-air concerts early in his career when, looking up at the sky between phrases, he felt “a communication” with something larger than the crowd.

In 2024, he published “The Notebooks of Sonny Rollins,” a glimpse into the philosophical scaffolding behind decades of restless playing. He is survived by a nephew, Clifton Anderson, and nieces Vallyn Anderson and Gabrielle DeGroat.