Music Making in a Time of Acute Trouble

 I play baritone saxophone in an amateur big band sponsored by the Jerusalem Municipality. I enjoy it and can still pretty much hold my own, though at the age of 81 I'm significantly older than the other musicians. We rehearse in a building in the Hinnom Valley under the walls of the Old City. It was renovated through the generosity of Herb Alpert of the Tijuana Brass and named after his parents.

We were supposed to play in a concert with two other municipally sponsored bands on March 1, 2026, the second day of the war against Iran. Obviously that performance was cancelled. Against all odds, we were able to rehearse yesterday, March 9 (a Monday, our usual rehearsal night), and everyone came: the drummer (who lives about an hour's drive away), the bass player (the only woman in our band), the guitarist (an accomplished musician, who, on a volunteer basis, is the band's manager), all five saxophonists, four trumpet players, and our only trombone player, and the director of the band (a saxophonist who plays piano, since we don't have a regular pianist yet; he is a high school teacher whose students are distressed, and the parent of two adolescents, who are going through a hard time) - 14 musicians in all, if I counted right.

No one I know is happy about the ongoing war against Iran, with missiles and drones launched against Israel and bombardment of Iran by Israel and the US. The war is causing physical, mental, and economic damage on a vast scale. Though Jerusalem is seldom targeted by the Iranians, we hear frequent air raid sirens, enter our bomb shelters, and listen to the explosions of interceptions. Most things are closed, and people are stuck at home.

Getting together and playing music was hugely important to us. Maybe by next week we'll stop firing missiles one each other.

Masters of Improvisation, Memorization, and Blues for Alice

Recently I viewed a valuable documentary about Keith Jarrett, in which he had a lot to say about his art. I also saw a valuable Q and A session with Joe Henderson about learning how to improvise. Both of them emphasized the importance of memorization. Jarrett, whose trios played standards, usually not deciding in advance which ones they would play at a given concert, told how he memorized countless standards early in his career. Henderson talks about listening to records, transcribing solos, and playing from memory. Jarrett and Henderson did what they did naturally, without teachers telling them that's what they should be doing. 

Not every expert musician is a great memorizer. But a professional jazz musician ought to know the melodies of hundreds of standards as well as their underlying harmonies and to be able to improvise according to those harmonies by ear. A musician who can't do that will become some other kind of player.

Certain types of classical music also demand memorization. Concert pianists and other soloists are expected - and expect of themselves - to memorize the music they perform, an ability that astounds me. Some of the works they play are long, technically difficult, and very complex. It appears that the process of mastering a concerto includes memorizing it.

When I was young, taking piano lessons, I think I was told to memorize pieces, but it didn't stick, and I never became even a fair pianist. All my subsequent musical education was based on reading notes well, and I never felt confined by that emphasis. I was never a natural musician, and that hasn't prevented me from enjoying playing.

However, I think it's important to address my weaknesses as a musician, even at my advanced age, so I try to memorize pieces and I sometimes go through the exercise of playing a memorized piece in a number of keys. Since I play saxophones in Eb and Bb as well as flute, I have to be able to play tunes in three different keys, an interesting challenge.

One of the pieces I am trying to memorize is Charlie Parker's "Blues for Alice." It's difficult for me, partially because the changes (the chords) aren't those of a standard blues. I assume that Parker didn't write the music down and play it from the written notes before improvising on it. He probably composed it in his head and played it from memory. Among many others, Roland Kirk recorded it. Since he was blind, he had to learn it by listening to it and playing it by memory, not a feat one should take for granted, as the melody is tricky.

Even if one is not a natural musician like the great masters of jazz improvisation, one can inch forward toward greater competence.