Lou Donaldson gone at 98. The man probably outlived his own vibrato. A force of nature disguised as a reed player. A cat who could make an alto sax purr like a kitten or scream like a banshee, sometimes in the same solo. And »Sunny Side Up« – that album… Blue Note knew what they were doing, snagging him and putting him with Sam Jones, Horace Harlan and Al Harewood. They were like a finely tuned engine, and Lou was the nitro injection. It could be fun, it could be funky, it could make you want to get up and dance… or at least tap your foot while pretending to be sophisticated.

Mr. Donaldson, he understood that. He understood the joy of music, the power of a well-placed note, the magic of a swinging rhythm. He lived it, breathed it, played it. Ninety-eight years. That’s a lot of notes. A lot of joy. A lot of magic. The world’s a little quieter now, a little less vibrant. But the music, that’s still here. Spinning on the turntable, telling its stories, keeping the spirit alive. He may be gone, but the sunny side is definitely still up.

Stefan Mohr