The Jazz.com Blog
March 26, 2008 · 1 comment
To Scat or Not To Scat . . .
Andrea Mann recently contributed a popular blog post in this column on her efforts to raise the coolness quotient of a hotel lounge act in Malaysia. Now this singer / writer / blogger enters into the on-going discussions at jazz.com over the current state of jazz vocals.
Site visitors are also advised to check out Mann's blog on her Malyasian experience, the always interesting Lost In Transposition. And for more on jazz vocals, refer to Thierry Qunum's European perspective on the subject, and my essay on jazz singing in the new millennium.
To scat, or not to scat?
...That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous chord progressions, or to take arms against a sea of difficult intervals, and by opening your mouth, pull them off?
Sorry, got a bit distracted there. Where was I?
Ah, yes: to scat, or not to scat. Well, normally I fall down on the side of not to scat.
As a jazz vocalist, it feels like something of a dirty - and yet entirely open, of course - secret, to refuse to scat sing. Tell people that you're a jazz singer and (in the UK, at least) they'll often respond with a Cleo Laine-esque 'skadoolia bop' (or however the hell you'd spell it) straight back at you. I, of course, laugh politely along with them, at this image of jazz singers. Before gently pointing out: "Actually, I don't do that."
Because I don't scat sing. I don't want to scat sing. And I resent the idea that to be a jazz vocalist, you need to scat sing.
Now, don't get me wrong. I can completely understand the point of learning to scat sing, in terms of truly understanding the form and musical make-up of the song. And I won't deny that the true greats - Ella and Sarah spring to mind of course, but also current singers like Anita Wardell and Kurt Elling - were/are brilliant scatters (is that a noun?) and their vocal and musical feats can blow you away.
But I can absolutely pinpoint the reason why I don't do it.
It's because, as a listener, scat singing just doesn't move me.
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It can impress me, certainly. But it doesn't make me feel anything. It never has done, even back in the day when I was a mere listener, as opposed to singer, of jazz. So why would I, as a singer, do something which I, as a listener, don't particularly like?
You can see it in many young singers out there on the circuit right now. Their jazz courses may have taught them to scat the hell out of any tune - or, erm, sometimes not - but it seems to be at the expense of the song; or more specifically: the feeling and the meaning behind the song. The scat solo becomes a distraction, a show-offy (is that an adjective?) interlude which detracts from the message and feeling being expressed in the song. It becomes something that's expected of singers, rather than an instinctive response to the music, and as such can also be utterly devoid of personality.
I once took part in a singers' workshop led by the wonderful Norma Winstone, and she told us that Kind Of Blue was a life-changing album for her; because, listening to it, she felt as if she wanted to be 'in there' with the musicians, in the music. And as a singer, I must say that this is exactly how I feel, too. I don't want to sit on 'top' of the music and perform a solo like another instrument - for me, the singing of the words and the playing with the melody and phrasing is the singer's 'solo' - I want to be 'in' it.
As a result, I find myself not scatting, but, well, 'noodling' (is that a verb?); often during the introduction or the ending of a song, or even along with another instrument, gently, as it solos. My 'noodling' often takes the form of singing long notes, but at other times, it may be short or long phrases more akin to a conventional scat. But unlike a very separate, stand-alone moment, it feels like an absolutely instinctive addition to the music I'm making with a band - what I would play if I had, say, a saxophone in my mouth (and hands) - and can happen at any point, whenever it feels right or appropriate. As opposed to feeling like a part which I must play (in both senses of playing a part) because I'm 'a jazz singer.'
The British singer Liane Carroll is a good example of a singer who 'noodles': sounds spill out of her mouth, around her lyric-singing and piano-playing, as if it's the most natural and instinctive thing in the world. Now that moves me. Just as the wonderful Kurt Elling makes me tear up during his rendition of Keith Jarrett's 'Leaving Again'; and Anita Wardell moves me most of all when she's delivering a ballad, utterly simply and yet full of emotion. To me, this way of singing is worth a thousand 'skadoolia bop' notes. Or however the hell you spell them.
This blog entry contributed by Andrea Mann. To follow Andreas day-to-day experiences as a jazz singer in Malaysia, visit her blog Lost In Transposition.
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I don't think scatting is something you should do unless you're good at it. For me, a really good singer can ruin the whole performance by "trying" to scat. :-(