Resonance Records
Rahsaan Roland Kirk – tenor saxophone, flute, stritch, manzello, flexatone, whistle, siren, vocals; Rahn Burton – piano; Steve Novosel – bass; Jimmy Hopps – drums
Seeing Rahsaan Roland Kirk live was unlike anything else. He could play three horns at once, switch to flute, throw in percussive mouth sounds, hum, shout, or sing — and somehow make it all groove. Seek & Listen: Live at the Penthouse brings that wild, joyful energy back into the room. Recorded in 1967 by radio DJ Jim Wilke and finally released by Resonance Records, it’s not just another archival find — it’s a reminder of what it felt like to watch Kirk turn sound itself into a celebration.
Kirk’s band — Rahn Burton on piano, Steve Novosel on bass, and Jimmy Hopps on drums — never worked from charts. There was no set list, no sheet music, just Kirk calling out a tune. On “Mingus-Griff Song,” he counts off the tempo and a full sax section hits before you realize it’s just him, switching between manzello and tenor. He plays in long, fast bursts — a continuous stream that could be a whole section trading lines. Burton’s solo is post-bop at its core, with nods to jazz piano history — some Monk dissonance here, a hint of stride there. Novosel’s melodic solo leads into a crisp drum break before the “sax section” returns to take it out.
The joy of this set is hearing Kirk play with such abandon in front of a crowd that’s clearly with him. Before “Alfie,” he tells the audience he’s going to play a current hit. Burton immediately starts into the tune, and Kirk bursts out laughing — “You guessed it! Go ahead!” — as Burton spins out a graceful solo that sets the mood. When Kirk comes in on tenor, his sound is warm and centered, following the melody closely, only hinting at vibrato. As the tune unfolds, he stretches the lines, holding notes a little longer, leaning into the phrasing, letting the last note hang perfectly still.
Kirk loved Ellington, and the first medley — “Ev’rytime We Say Goodbye / I’ve Got It Bad / Sophisticated Lady / Satin Doll” — is a heartfelt tribute. He leans heavily on the stritch, its slightly nasal tone giving the melodies a haunting glow. He sings and talks his way through “I’ve Got It Bad,” then switches to flute — earthy, raw, yet lyrical, with those ragged edges. Returning to horn for “Sophisticated Lady,” he stays close to the melody but colors it with little flutters and runs that are pure Kirk. The closing “Satin Doll” swings harder, almost like a small-band take on Ellington’s orchestra, with the “sax section” sound reappearing and Burton comping beautifully. They clearly had fun, turning one of Duke’s more polished tunes into something looser, more alive. Kirk laughs at the end — the perfect exclamation point.
The second medley — “Blues for C & T / Happy Days Are Here Again / Down by the Riverside” — is Kirk at his most playful. He counts it off with bursts of mouth percussion, tossing in whistles and vocal sounds before the horns arrive. The rhythm builds like a circular groove — part swing, part traffic jam. “Happy Days Are Here Again” feels half-drunk, half-celebration, with Burton’s piano leaning toward a New Orleans shuffle while Hopps keeps a steady, relentless beat. By the time they hit “Down by the Riverside,” it’s all sound and energy — horns honking, whistles flying — a noisy, joyful mess only Kirk could pull off.
By “Ode to Billie Joe,” the band slips into a funky shuffle that could’ve come straight out of a Ramsey Lewis or Les McCann set. Burton opens with a bluesy piano riff, Kirk jumps in, and Hopps lays down that loose, cool groove. They’re not following the Bobby Gentry tune exactly — more using it as a springboard. Burton takes a long, soulful solo, Kirk shouts his name in encouragement, and Novosel steps forward with a melodic bass solo before the “sax section” returns, Kirk layering lines that take the melody home.
Kirk could do anything, and the last part of the set shows that. “Funk Underneath” is loose, earthy funk, with Kirk humming along on flute. “Now Please Don’t You Cry, Beautiful Edith” turns inward — his tenor mournful and deep, like a hymn. Then “Making Love After Hours” brings it home with a boogie beat, Kirk back on flute, trading phrases with the band like an old blues revue, half-singing, half-shouting his way through, channeling the old blues shouters before introducing the band.
Seek & Listen shows exactly why Rahsaan Roland Kirk still feels so alive decades later. He played to connect — to make people happy and to honor the jazz traditions he loved: He never stopped showing how much history could swing — and how much joy one man could pull from a horn.
