Bob Garcia was born on March 25, 1929, in Toulon. He first retired in La Seyne-sur-Mer. This didn't stop him from continuing to charm us with his powerful yet supple style. A marvel of feeling, a sense of melody, and a beautiful sound, all based on a muted swing. He is a jazz classic, in the sense that his playing transcends fashion and time, sounding forever new.

Bob belongs to the generation that began their careers just after World War II, which largely contributed to making jazz known and recognized as the great music of the 20th century. They were the conduits for the great American composers. They paved the way for all of today's jazz musicians performing in Europe. To make a living, they had to either have a second job or perform in pop music, which was not without its risks for their music. Bob was lucky, or cautious, to work with great variety artists, with whom there were no compromises.

He worshipped a god, Stan Getz, whom he tried to emulate in his early days, and his saints: Al Cohn and Zoot Sims, in short, three of Woody Herman's Four Brothers. He also loved Coleman Hawkins, Wardell Gray, Ben Webster, Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane, Wayne Shorter…

Curiously, Bob had started playing the accordion at the age of 5. He played it until he was 17, entering competitions and performing at the musette dance halls of Toulon. In 1949, at the age of 20, he left for "the service." He discovered Artie Shaw; he loved this music, and having found a tenor saxophone in an Army store, he played it. That's how vocations are born!

In 1952, he won the trophy at the Paris International Jazz Festival, organized by the magazine "Jazz-Hot." He then played with Stéphane Grappelli, Martial Solal, and others. In 1956, he joined Jacques Hélian's studio, where he found himself in the company of Kenny Clarke. He then became a staple of major Parisian clubs, playing with the best visiting French and American musicians.

In 1966, he replaced Michel Portal with Claude Nougaro, with whom he remained until 1984, devoting unwavering admiration and friendship to him. In 1974, he toured Japan with Michel Legrand. But his greatest musical memory remains the eight days he spent playing with Django Reinhardt.

Bob Garcia spoke willingly, in a voice close to his saxophone playing, full of softness and musicality. He told me in an interview: "I'm not a record buff; I don't know much about today's musicians. Yet I was enthusiastic about Mike Stern a few years ago at the Hyères Festival. I think it's in this music that there's a logical continuation of jazz because it mixes rock, standards, binary, and ternary. There are a lot of crooks in our music. They dare to do anything and do anything. In classical music, a bad violinist will never be a concert pianist. It's hard to make a living from jazz. It's better to be a singer! I'm 71 years old and I still practice the instrument two hours a day. Mainly for the pleasure of playing, of hearing the sound. In my 50-year career, I've done what I wanted to do. I've traveled halfway around the world. I've played with great musicians. I have lots of friends, including young musicians like Lionel Belmondo. I always want to play better; I don't rest on my laurels. I believe in it more than ever. All my life, I've been too shy, not opportunistic or catchy enough. I didn't care about anything. I could have done more. I've recorded a lot of records, but only two under my own name recently. Young people have everything they need to succeed now. What I like is that they have great respect for older musicians. In the 1950s, we were very sectarian.

A beautiful lesson in humility, integrity, and serenity. We'll definitely end up believing that the wise men of the late 20th century all went into music. Then Bob retired near Paris, where he had some family. He said goodbye to the Var region in 2004 with a splendid concert under the aegis of Jazz Azur at La Cadière d'Azur before a large audience of friends and admirers, along with his friends bassist Gérard Maurin and drummer Thierry Larosa. There was emotion, joy too, and above all, beautiful music. And I told myself that Bob was a great saxophonist, a great lyricist, too little known, with tremendous feeling in his ballads.

In his second retirement, he suffered quite a bit from loneliness, no longer having his friends, his old buddies, around him. People called on him less and less often, alas. He passed away in 2012. It was with real sadness that I learned of his passing. A sadness shared by everyone I told.

—Serge Baudot (Springtime, 2012)