The internet is an enabler for my lack of focus. However, this can lead to some delightful serendipity.
Over the past few months, I have been enamored with the great early 20th century clarinetist/soprano saxophonist Sidnet Bechet. Being the composer/arranger that I am, I transcribe the music of those soloists which pique my interest at any given time. With every solo, I feel a stronger and stronger connection with the musician. A kind of musical psychoanalyzing, if you will. When I keep track of the chronology of the works I am transcribing, I can even see (hear) how he is growing and maturing.
Today I happened upon an exquisite poem by Philip Larkin entitled simply "For Sidnet Bechet." This short piece says more in these short lines about Bechet than I may ever know. After I enjoy this poetry for a while, I plan to give it a closer look; perhaps I will get some friends with more literary background to discuss it with me. I will share those thoughts here in the future.
Larkin wrote these verses just a few years after Bechet's death.