Bechet Discoveries

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.

For Sidney Bechet
by Philip Larkin

That note you hold, narrowing and rising, shakes
Like New Orleans reflected on the water,
And in all ears appropriate falsehood wakes,

Building for some a legendary Quarter
Of balconies, flower-baskets and quadrilles,
Everyone making love and going shares--

Oh, play that thing! Mute glorious Storyvilles
Others may license, grouping around their chairs
Sporting-house girls like circus tigers (priced

Far above rubies) to pretend their fads,
While scholars manqués nod around unnoticed
Wrapped up in personnels like old plaids.

On me your voice falls as they say love should,
Like an enormous yes.  My Crescent City
Is where your speech alone is understood,

And greeted as the natural noise of good,
Scattering long-haired grief and scored pity.