We Say, Bechet 

 

 

they say Bechet

was the only man born

whose solos could silence Louie Armstrong

by simply the awesome strength of melodious song

ringing resplendent in dulcet tones

through the bell of Sidney's serpentine saxophone

 

they say Bechet

was a Creole colored Black man

who ventured forth to France land

to get closer to Africa his beloved

albeit estranged ancestral homeland

 

they say Bechet

was an hombre of straight backed pride

with a quick silver temper he seldom bottled inside

and the swiftness of a pugilist in his ability to settle scores

and, mano a mano, to batter open doors

 

they say Bechet

was possessed by the gris gris of his grandfather

who had impassionately danced beneath tall oak trees

in the sunshine of Sunday breeze

during weekly place de Congo gatherings

and that this same Bechet directly inspired the afro-blue blowing

of Coltrane's adoption of the gypsy drone

that undulating high pitched moan

articulated in spirit conjuring tongues & shot flickering hot

out of the damballa tubing of a b-flat soprano saxophone

 

they say Bechet

when they don't know what else to say

Bechet when they speak admiringly

of an exotic untamed noir beauty

Bechet when they search diligently

for lions within the aural jungles of the 20th century

Bechet of the sweeping vibrato undammable

as the torrential flow of the mighty Mississippi

Bechet of amazingly graceful creativity

fierce as the hand wrought iron filigrees

of Black diasporan new world melodies

 

Bechet, Bechet, Bechet

is what they say

when they mean to mark the beginning,

the genesis of the Black man's astonishing

affair d'amour with the hybrid horn

Adolph named the saxophone

 

Bechet they say

oh how seriously huge this gigantic petite fleur played

this majestic musicianeer Bechet

whose mournfilled joy remains today

the birth cry of Black music's jazz ascendency

 

Bechet, Bechet, Bechet

we say

 

 

—kalamu ya salaam