AN EXAMINATION OF THE INFLUENCE OF JAZZ AND BLUES IN JACK
KEROUAC'S MEXICO CITY BLUES.
BY: RODERICK A. WARNER
CHAPTER TWO: SCAT, VOUT, VOCALESE, 'VOCALISATION,' AND THE
SOUND ON THE PAGE: 'THE VOCALISED TEXT:'
A problem that surfaced around the time of the consolidation of 'bebop' was that of
the position of the vocalist. With the new dissonant, chromatic, polyrhythmic lines of
themes and improvisations strung over more complex rhythms, how could one sing
the new music? Before, the basic jazz vocal repertoire had been drawn, in the main,
from the blues in its various forms and the 32 bar standard popular song. These
offered various options for a singer, (none of which were, perhaps, ever a hundred
percent satisfactory). One could sing the song straight, framed by instrumental
passages and solos, or bend and elongate the words to accommodate the
accompanying harmonies and rhythms, or improvise new melodic lines to fit the
existing words. But the new density achieved in bebop accentuated the problem.
One solution was to use the voice as an instrument - to 'scat' nonsense syllables as an
onomatopoeic melodic/rhythmic parallel to the soloists lines: 'The scat singer
mouths nonsense syllables... just for the sounds they convey.' (MB, 185) This
practice had been invented (allegedly) by Louis Armstrong in the 1920's. (1.) For a
non-musician like Kerouac, this offered a method of joining in with the music, and/or
creating one's own melodic lines, assuming that one's musical 'ear' was sophisticated
enough: 'Jack ... loved scat singing, in which a vocalist accompanies a jazz solo, or
creates his own by using his voice as an instrument.' (MB, 185)
But several other (related) attempts were initiated by singers to assimilate the new
music of modern jazz. Two approaches are relevant for my purpose: Slim Gaillard's
(2.) dadaist 'vouteroonie' vocals, and the style called 'vocalese.' In a famous passage
in On the Road, Kerouac describes a typical Gaillard performance:
'Slim Gaillard is a tall, thin Negro with big sad eyes who's always saying,
'Right-oroonie' and 'How 'bout a little bourbon-oroonie.'... He does and says anything
that comes into his head... he slowly gets up and takes the mike and says, very slowly,
'Great-orooni ... fine-ovauti ... hello-orooni... bourbon-orooni ... all orooni... how are
the boys in the front row making out with their girls-orooni ... orooni ... vauti ...
oroonirooni ...' (3.)
Certainly, then, Kerouac knew his style well. Gaillard was an odd figure,
straddling jazz, r &b, vaudeville and surrealism, not a bebop musician per se,
although he displayed a musical knowledge of the style which allied him to the new
music, and played with many of its most famous musicians. Especially, for my
context here, his invented vocal language of 'Vout,' '...a humourous language invented
by Gaillard in which he inserts nonsense syllables into everyday words,' (GR,414)
seems to resonate with Kerouac's co-option of the sounds and rhythms of
African-American music as the mainspring of his poetry and prose. Arguably, one
can look at much of the word-play in Mexico City Blues in this light. Chorus 147, for
example:
.........................
The Angel in heaven
Gabriel Toot Boy
Horn n All
Blows Awful
Blues When
Toy Doy
Done Bo Moy
From China mo Moy
To Ole Penoy
Oy - y -
Y gerta
was gordo
(MCB, 147, 8-19)
Here, I feel that there is a distinct, if distant echo of Gaillard's 'vout' technique, as
Kerouac disrupts the phrase 'Gabriel Toot...Horn n All/Blows Awful/Blues/... When...
Done.. From China... To Ole Penoy' by adding 'Toy Doy,' 'Bo Moy,' 'mo Moy.' This
works in the same 'additional' way that Gaillard uses the words 'vout, 'orooni' etc. in
the above extract, and also provides a rhyming continuity: 'Boy/Doy/Moy/
MoyPenoy/Oy.' There also appears to be a strong connection with 'back-slang' for
both Gaillard and Kerouac, with its reversals and additions that act to obscure phrases
and translate them into private codes - a distinct feature of the African-American oral
tradition in the U.S.A. (4.) Not forgetting Gaillard's wild humour, a near cousin of
Kerouac's irreverent destabilising poetics.
Apart from the aspect of the 'sound' of this chorus, one sees again Kerouac's
rhythmic diversity at work here, expressed visually. Playing off the line 'The Angel in
heaven,' he indents the following lines in a block that takes the reader down the page,
varying it in the last three lines by further indentations. Thus, 'Y gerta' is pulled back
slightly to the left margin, while the last line moves back to the indent at 'Oy-y -' This
gives a visual rhythmic twist to finish off the chorus.
Another example of 'Gaillardish' wordplay, which occurs earlier in the poem,
might well be in the 13th chorus: 'O the ruttle tooty blooty/windowpoopies of Fellah
Ack Ack/' (MCB, 13, 5-7) where 'windowpoopies' sounds like quintessential Kerouac,
yet the 'ruttle tooty blooty' gives a flavour of Gaillard. This verbal playfulness of
Kerouac works as a lighter, humourous contrast to his treatment of the more serious
religious themes, and is inseparable from his style as a whole - which gives his 'bop
poetics' such a democratic and irreverent flavour.
Equally - or more - important is the possible influence of 'vocalese':
'A term for the practice of jazz [singing] in which texts (newly invented) are set to
recorded jazz improvisations. The word is a pun on the terms "vocaliser," combining
the ideas of a jazz "vocal" and a private language (indicated by the suffix " -ese")...
the singing of vocalese is most closely associated with the bop style... ' (GR,
1250-1251.)
This direct translation of the melodic shape of a solo into words meant that the
lyrics do not follow the standard narrative two- and four- bar units of the conventional
popular song, but go where the original solo line dictates. I would argue that this
influence is a very strong one, a vocal equivalent of the bop saxophone's asymetrical
phrasing already mentioned, and evolving out of 'scat':
'In the late Forties scat singers like King Pleasure(5.) fit lyrics to solos by Parker
and Gillespie, and Jack and Tom (Livornese) listened to many of their records. At
Birdland they would scat together...' (MB, 185)
When one hears Kerouac reciting his own poetry on recordings, one hears this
influence more clearly in his vocal rhythms - but it is also evident on the written page
as he 'solos' using words to approximate an improvised jazz line. Vocalese was
unsuccessful as a popular style beyond a certain period, apart from odd resurrections
(and a certain influence on modern rap). (6.) I would submit that its influence in
Kerouac's poetry is much more successful (and long-lasting). One can see how he
intends the choruses to be read - blocks of lines in each stanza forming a
rhythmic/melodic unit according to the flow of the line and the breath. Another
parallel with Olson? As the latter said:
'... the sons of Pound and Williams... are composing as though verse was to have the
reading its writing involved, as though not the eye but the ear was to be its measurer,
as though the intervals of its composition could be so carefully put down as to be
precisely the intervals of its registration.' (O, 394.)
Given the stress that I have made on Kerouac's interest in both the shape and
freedom of the bop line and the sound of the new music, one can see a strong
relationship being established between ear (as 'measurer'), voice and music. The
African-American jazz and blues tradition is heavily concerned with instrumentalists
'vocalising' the instrumental line, and vocalists attempting to approximate the
instrumental line. (7.) I would argue that this combined influence on Kerouac is vital:
and I would further submit that one can see how he uses the text on the page to force
the reader to hear the sound of the written poetry - to 'vocalise' the line. Towards the
end of the poem, where he is straining to burst out beyond any linguistic restraints of
conventional sense, privileging rhythm and sound instead, one can see this carried to
the extremes that anticipate, in many ways, the coming revolution in jazz of the late
fifties and early sixties:
'The poems in Mexico City Blues were bound together less by theme than by
Kerouac's internal speech rhythms. At some points, as in the 217th Chorus, they
become pure sound.' (CH, 200-201.)
One could say that the extent to which Kerouac is successful in his textual strategy
can be measured by the extent to which the reader will be a sympathetic 'sounding
board' for his poetry, the way that the text leads the reader to 'sound' it - either out
loud or sub-vocally. The late chorus, 250, demonstrates this:
Moll the mingling, mixup
All your mixupery,
And mail it in one envelopey:
Propey, Slopey, Kree.
Motey, slottey, notty,
Potty, shotty, rotty, wotty,
Salty, grainy, wavey,
Takey, Carey, Andy
Sari Pari Avi Ava
Gava lava mava dava
Sava wava ga-ha-va
Graharva pharva
Dharma rikey rokkkk
Tokkkk sokkkk
Mrock, the Org
Of Old Pootatolato
England Ireland
O
Sail to Sea
(MCB, 215)
In one sense, perhaps, ' Moll the mingling, mixup/All your mixupery,/And mail it
in one envelopey,' is a textual summation of Kerouac's poetics, expressed in an almost
child-like (and subversive) manner, 'Moll the mingling, mixup etc.' meaning to
combine all the disparate and contradictory aspects and confusions thrown up by his
improvisations, and send them headlong into the poem: 'mail it in one envelopey.'
But rather than strive for a conventional textual reading here, in the awareness of the
caveat that Gerald L. Bruns offers on this subject: '... improvisations are always
incitements to interpretation, with mixed and unimpressive results...' (8.) I would
suggest that Kerouac is improvising and 'scatting' around the sounds and rhythms that
his text is generating, and attempting to notate this movement of sound down on the
page for the reader to participate in the process. Thus, one gets successions of words
that change internally through consonantal and vowel movement but retain the rhyme
in an overlapping series, starting with 'Propey Slopey' - a long 'o,' and Kree - a long 'e.'
'Motey' retains the long 'o' and gives the 't' sound that will be re-iterated as the 'o'
contracts, in the series 'slottey, nottey, notty,/Potty, shotty, rotty, wotty,/. 'Salty,
grainy, wavey' starts another series, pivoting on the '-ty' of 'Salty,' which, although
sounding with the short 'o' of the series preceding it, visually anticipates the coming
long 'a' of 'grainy' that ends on 'Takey.' 'Carey' gives a different 'a' sound again, that
will be transmuted into the broader 'a' of 'Sari Pari' etc. down to Dharma. This line
produces sharper sounds, beginning with 'rikey,' of 'rokkk/Tokkk sokkkk/Mrockk.'
This last series is expressed visually to produce an echo effect. The '-kkkk',s' give the
impression of the after-resonations of a drum beat, a visual exercise in the rhythms of
sound, a combination of eye and ear and a further demonstration of what I have
termed the 'vocalised text,' or the 'sound on the page.' This is born out further by the
sense of a long musical line unfolding that is given by the indentation starting at
'Propey,' with further rhythmic shifts within the section provided by the indents at
'Sari,' Dharma,' and 'Tokkkk.'
By its foregrounding of sound and rhythm, this chorus acts as an approximation of
a drum solo, where the soloist lays out, letting the rhythms through to keep the
momentum of the performance going. And a sign of weariness? However playful
Kerouac's intent often is in such passages, the strain that the language is being
subjected to, is signalled in line 1 of the next chorus, 216: 'Fuck, I'm tired of this
imagery,' (MCB, 216A, 1) and again in the ending lines: 'I'm sick of this/misery
poesy/flap Jean/Louis/Miseree.' (MCB, 216A, 21-24)
Nearing the end of the poem, Kerouac is forcing his 'bop poetics' to the point of
overload.
Go to Chapter Three
Back to Chapter One