I LIVE TO HEAR, KEROUAC and all things with the Magic of JAZZ, Bohemia, The Holy Barbarians, Beats, hipsters and like Patti Smith, " All Things are HOLY ! "
RIP Jack Kerouac...... Huge Doors fan and reading about Jim Morrison.... Morrison read on the road in his late teens. Saying it made an impact is an understatement.
While reading ON THE ROAD his description of JAZZ w/Charlie Pahkah in a club in Denver? I was taken, surrendered, felt it viscerally. I'm not sure though my 'searches' if I'll ever come upon that passage again. I guess, if I ever read the book again, I'll renew the encounter.
I was so lucky to have good memories of this era and thumbing my way on Route 495 with Elin, Kenny, my brother and two year old Leif whose diaper was always wet and nose was always running.
i just want to say- you did well kerouac deserved this because he wrote about these jazz legends and lived that way back then - this is justice for jack he deserves to be here on you tube this way - this is justice
My family, much like his, emigrated from Quebec and settled in Lowell, Massachusetts around the same time, and I live in New Jersey across from Manhattan, and every time I'm down in the village & St Mark's Place, I think of Jack Kerouac.
Jack and Beat went up the mountain to desolation, peaking there, turning mountains upside down, climbing up to get to the deep beat bottom, beat beat beat, more beat and dig it, dig it, finding self on the beat road, beat and beat and beat, where angels and poets care to jazz and fly.
+Poppy Bell Blessings to you... Jack intentionally recites his prose in Jazz time signatures,that's really what inspired me to create these soundscapes.To me, it's like he uses his voice as if he was a Jazz musician blowing a horn.Fast,slow,clear,muffled,direct,intense,mellow,complex,simple,his delivery styles are endless, and he mixes them up within one piece of prose.I felt it was only right to pay tribute to that.
ah man there's the song "this beat" by the Jazzual Suspects that uses this recording. but i do love cinematic orchestra... man both tracks are amazing. good job on this
in australia 1950's a guy called lee gordon from america came here managed acts started drive thrus and lost cash went mad imported sinatra and more but he did a similar type of recording with jazz and spoken word , whoever chose this song to go with kerouac got it spot on and its hard to think he died at his age but so did elvis and errol flynn it was their athletic hearts that did it
Yes, I always felt Jack's prose came alive when accompanied with Jazz. It was also how he originally intended to recite his prose. I guess these creations came out of that, and my love of the creative cinematic story telling Jack delivers with his words, mixed with the right Jazz mood its transformative for me. Blessings to you all!! I never thought people would dig it this much!
Now it’s jazz, the place is roaring, all beautiful girls in there, one mad brunette at the bar drunk with her boys. One strange chick I remember from somewhere, wearing a simple skirt with pockets, her hands in there, short haircut, slouched, talking to everybody. Up and down the stairs they come. The bartenders are the regular band of Jack, and the heavenly drummer who looks up in the sky with blue eyes, with a beard, is wailing beer-caps of bottles and jamming on the cash register and everything is going to the beat. It’s the beat generation, it’s beat, it’s the beat to keep, it’s the beat of the heart, it’s being beat and down in the world and like oldtime lowdown and like in ancient civilizations the slave boatmen rowing galleys to a beat and servants spinning pottery to a beat. The faces! There’s no face to compare with Jack Minger’s who’s up on the bandstand now with a colored trumpeter who outblows him wild and Dizzy but Jack’s face overlooking all the heads and smoke. He has a face that looks like everybody you’ve ever known and seen on the street in your generation; a sweet face. Hard to describe, sad eyes, cruel lips, expectant gleam, swaying to the beat, tall, majestical - waiting in front of the drugstore. A face like Hunke’s in New York (Hunke whom you’ll see on Times Square, somnolent and alert, sadsweet, dark, beat, just out of jail, martyred, tortured by sidewalks, starved for sex and companionship, open to anything, ready to introduce new worlds with a shrug). The colored big tenor with the big tone would like to be blowing Sunny Stitts clear out of Kansas City roadhouses, clear, heavy, somewhat dull and unmusical ideas which nevertheless never leave the music, always there, far out, the harmony too complicated for the motley bums (of music-understanding) in there. The drummer is a sensational 12-year-old Negro boy who’s not allowed to drink but can play, tremendous, a little lithe childlike Miles Davis kid, like early Fats Navarro fans you used to see in Espan Harlem, hep, small - he thunders at the drums with a beat which is described to me by a near-standing connoisseur with beret as a “fabulous beat”. On piano is Blondey Bill, good enough to drive any group. Jack Minger blows out and over his head with these angels from Fillmore, I dig him - now it’s terrific. I just stand in the outside hall against the wall, no beer necessary, with collections of in-and-out listeners, with Verne, and now here returns Bob Berman (who is a colored kid from West Indies who barged into my party six months earlier high with Dean and the gang and I had a Chet Baker record on and we hoofed at each other in the room, tremendous, the perfect grace of his dancing, casual, like Joe Louis casually hoofing). He comes now in dancing like that, glad. Everybody looks everywhere, it’s a jazz-joint and beat generation madtrick, you see someone, “Hi,” then you look away elsewhere, for something someone else, it’s all insane, then you look back, you look away, around, everything is coming in from everywhere in the sound of the jazz. “Hi”, “Hey”. Bang, the little drummer takes a solo, reaching his young hands all over traps and kettles and cymbals and foot-peddle BOOM in a fantastic crash of sound - 12 years old - what will happen?
Why can't people just do poetry and not hip hop or trap there is a difference I'm not talking about love or happiness I like sad and Evil what the fuck is wrong with you people don't you know music don't you know poetry
