What’s happening? The shapes! The chaos!

This post started out being about language and linguistics, or it was planning to get there at some point. I regret to inform you that this has not happened. It is now primarily concerned with me, cos everybody loves me, some of my mates, cos i have many, and music – namely Jazz.

I’m currently in housemate F’s room. Subsequent posts will invariably be transmitted from rooms that are not my own, the sub-zero temperature of my hobbit hole never my constant need for idle chatter proving habitation difficult. I was in housemate J’s room the other night and her i-tunes shuffled over to Dean Martin who, if he was to be believed, was delicately swaying as the Marimba Rhythm was playing.

Over this we decided to scat.

I’m not even sure if it was an active decision. As a relative newcomer to Jazz myself, I’m cleverly running with the assumption that most of you are familiar with the rather delightful, though initially somewhat bewildering, practice of scatting. If you have remained resolutely clear of any scat-talk, I’d recommend checking out ‘The Mighty Boosh – Electro’ for an amusing Electro Vs. Jazz scatfest. Boosh-love is recommendation bias. Let it be known now that my allegiance has long lied with electro-ponce jazz-cynic Vince Noir. Housemate J is Howard – FACT.

To do the expected formal definition, I shall sup again from the blessed fount of knowledge on the interweb, Wikipedia. We all <3 it, as Charlotte confides, in her blog over this way.

Wikipedia on Scat:

“Scat singing is a type of voice instrumental music. A scat is vocalized either wordlessly or with nonsense words and syllables
(e.g. “bippity-bippity-doo-wop-razzamatazz-skoobie-doobie-bee-bop-a-lula-shabazz”) as employed by jazz singers. Scat singing gives singers the ability to sing improvised melodies and rhythms, to create the equivalent of an instrumental solo using their voice.”

Scoobop, beebop! – I’d never scatted before in me life! Daunting though it was, i emitted my first ’scoobedybop badoodaa’ with an acute sense of fear mingled with glee, much in the way peanuts are mingled with butter. The final product, I’m sure you weep to hear it, was rather more disappointing than peanut butter. Housemate F currently houses her peanut butter in the fridge, none of us are quite sure why. If you have an answer to this, please comment and dispel our confusion. //ETA: The peanut butter says to refrigerate once open and consume within 3 months. I still maintain this is weird practice// My first scatting session was majorly fun, if disastrous, but don’t let that put you off! I reckon I’ll chalk it down to rookie nerves rather than any inherent fault with the Jazz practice. Frank Sinatra’s ‘Chicago’ hit the airwaves. What with stating the obvious being an incorrigible habit of mine, I promptly turned to J,

“We’re scatting to Skank Sinatra! Ohh yeaaaah.”

This was, of course, unintentional and much hilarity ensued…The joys of sibilance – and tongue twistery language blunders – had taken hold. [ And there you have the token language/linguistics reference - to be picked up in a later post folks!].

Now, I’m sure Frank Sinatra was no skank, but here’s Sammy Davis Jr. putting on the moves and showing us all how to scat like a pro… Scat Lesson [Go from 3mins20].

I’m no massive Jazz fan, ’tis futile claiming otherwise, but with talent like that you just gotta stop and go WOAH. Try a scat or two yourself, you may feel guilty but it’s oh so fun. x

~ by Reda Haq on October 17, 2007.