Monday, September 4, 2017

Signing ‘scat singing?’

It was kind of beautiful to watch, if also hilarious and also (if you think about it too intensely) nonsensical to watch.
 
Signing 'scat' music? Photos by Gregory Tejeda

The “it” was a moment Saturday night during the Chicago Jazz Festival, which I attended that night and was at the Pritzker Pavilion during their “Ellabration!” program by which several singers acknowledged the musical talent and legacy of Ella Fitzgerald – who if she were still alive today would be 100.

THE PROGRAM CONSISTED of female singers Sheila Jordan, Dee Alexander and Frieda Lee, along with male performer Paul Marinaro – all being led by singer/hostess Spider Saloff.

Now let’s be honest – no one mistook any of those individuals for Ella herself. Although hearing the extensive catalog of songs she created from the 1940s until her death in 1996 (she was 79) being performed was a pleasant way to spend an evening.

Although I have to confess to “the moment” that will stick in my mind being when I happened to look over to the far right end of the stage, which is where the American Sign Language interpreter happened to be standing.

She being the individual who attempts to capture the mood of the lyrics and music with sign language so as to allow those who are hearing-impaired to capture some sense of what is taking place.
A trio of ladies trying to convey the spirit of Ella Fitzgerald
NOW ANYBODY WHO knows about music knows that a significant part of the Ella repertoire was scat singing – which some might dismiss as gibberish but actually is a musical skill that is difficult to pull off without sounding ridiculous.

Because it entails improvisation and the use of sound without specific words – I have heard some people say it is the equivalent of using one’s voice as an instrument rather than to speak.
Woman keeping self cool with her 'jazz fan'

Which means there aren’t exactly words for the sign language interpreter to spell out or translate. The interpreter who happened to be working while Frieda Lee was scatting literally began waving her arms about and fluttering her fingers in all direction as if trying to capture the random nature of the sounds that those of us fortunate enough to not be hearing-impaired were hearing.

Not being deaf, I don’t know if that interpretation in any way captured the spirit of what we heard. But it was something that was a sight to see – although I’m sure there are some smart-alecks who would think the interpreter was just flailing her hands about, or maybe having some sort of epileptic seizure.

I’M SURE MY description of what I saw is not doing justice to what occurred. I know the pictures I attempted to take don’t really capture the beauty of what I saw. The best photograph I shot almost makes it appear as though the woman were being held up in front of a Millennium Park crowd – which I’m sure some ideological nitwits will want to believe is a routine Chicago occurrence.
Millennium security watches ...

Although I also have to admit to being clueless as to how many hearing-impaired people were actually among the Saturday night Jazz Fest crowd and relied on the sign language interpreter to provide them an understanding.

For some, I’m sure they gave the woman (there were several that night, working in shifts throughout each of the different performers Saturday night) and her gesticulations little thought.

Now I know I get a kick out of the music festivals Chicago sponsors each summer. They do provide some quality entertainment that rises above the usual level of dreck that people often pay ridiculous amounts of money for in order to get tickets to.
... over Saturday night Jazz Fest crowd
PERSONALLY, I WILL long remember the 1985 evening when I saw John Hammond, Stevie Ray Vaughn AND Koko Taylor all perform hour-long sets, one right after the other, on the same stage.

Any one of those performers would have been a memorable show. Put together was quite an experience.

But Saturday night with the sign language interpreter was a sight I’m also going to keep in my mind for years to come. For all I know, it will be the last thought I have on my death bed – and a future generation will ponder for years to follow just what I was babbling about in my final moments.
It would be the sight of scat singing – which has a visual beauty that matches anything Ella herself ever uttered. And I also got to hear some beautiful voices perform. All in all, a pleasant weekend evening.

  -30-

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