Private languages

On a minor detour during a burst of reading and writing this afternoon, I happened to encounter the name of Bix Beiderbecke - a quirky 1920s Jazz Age cornetist whom I now wish I'd met long ago. Beiderbecke's story is an engaging one: born in Iowa, in 1903 to a mother who was a church organist, he quickly became known as something of a prodigy on the piano; by the age of 10, he was sneaking onto riverboats and playing the calliope for admiring listeners. In 1916, he took up the cornet, more or less teaching himself the instrument (he reportedly played lefthanded for 8 years, before switching to his right). Soon, though, he was also finding his way into trouble, and after being expelled from the Lake Forest Academy, in Chicago, he turned to music as a full-time job, soon joining the Wolverine Orchestra. His work with that group earned him a measure of fame in the jazz world, before his early death in 1931.

Beiderbecke owes his reputation in large part, I gather, to that premature death: he has been variously viewed, since 1931, as a martyr, a saint, or a sort of romantic hero. But his music has also been praised, especially for its perceived influence on the similarly idiosyncratic Lester Young. But what do critics enjoy, specifically, about Beiderbecke's playing? Well, listen to Michael Steinman, on his blog Jazz Lives: "Bix Beiderbecke lived in and created his own world, much as Lester Young did — and it had its own private musical language. Think of the special break on SOMEBODY STOLE MY GAL, the modulation into the vocal on SUNDAY, and more."

Curious, I purchased "Sunday," and gave it a listen. It's a bright, prancing melodic tune that put me, at least, in the mind of live gazebo performances, afternoon sunshine, and ice cream stands. But Steinman's certainly right about the curious bridge to the vocals: the horns give way to a guitar, which then seems to strain with the work of imposing a new rhythm on the tune. Sure, I'm hardly the one to judge how unusual such a move was in jazz works of the time. But 'private musical language' certainly does ring a bell - perhaps because L. and I spend lots of time, these days, in the company of another quirky individual with a very idiosyncratic style of her own. And so, in honor of Beiderbecke's unusual style, I thought I'd offer up, in today's post, a brief glossary of Cleo's own private language, as it's evolved over the past few months. Let's let 10 examples stand in for a host:

sha shoo: shower
muni: banana
munu: macaroni
kookah: circle, and clock
ba too-ah: backgammon
(h)ummi: hummus
aw doo: all done
boo bwee: blueberry
doo: stool
meh see: medicine

You can't find a compilation of these, yet, on ITunes. But, if you want to give 'Sunday' a listen, it's there for you, for 99 cents.