AN EXAMINATION OF THE INFLUENCE OF JAZZ AND BLUES IN JACK
KEROUAC'S MEXICO CITY BLUES.
BY: RODERICK A. WARNER
CHAPTER ONE: JAZZ and BLUES:
In his brief introductory note to Mexico City Blues, Jack Kerouac stated that he
'wanted to be considered a jazz poet blowing a long blues in an afternoon jam session
on Sunday.' (MCB) In other words, Kerouac set out specifically to emulate textually
the way jazz soloists improvise their solos. In a letter dated August 19, 1955, from
Mexico, (1.) to Sterling Lord, he makes this even more explicit and, somewhat
pompously perhaps - or presciently - equates his achievement on the same level as
his experiments with prose:
'I hitchhiked through the awful South and Texas to get here, and am relaxing very
high. In fact so high I wrote a big volume of poetry (150 poems) in past week
MEXICO CITY BLUES which will do for poetry what my prose has done, eventually
change it into a medium for Lingual Spontaneity... a kind of challenge Jazz Session
for letters - (about time). These poems are of no gainful commercial significance
right now, so I'll hold them...' (L, 510)
An interesting point here is the 'challenge' aspect of his work - he sees it as a
gauntlet thrown down to orthodox 'letters,' presenting his poetry like a jazz musician
in a cutting contest, where one soloist tries to outdo the other. (2.) One also notes the
drug reference: 'relaxing very high.' Kerouac wrote most (if not all?) of Mexico City
Blues on marijuana, interspersed with shots of morphine (administered as much for
the intense pain that he was suffering for much of the time due to his recurring
phlebitis as for the purposes of getting 'high'). (3.) But these poems are the work of an
artist who is convinced that he has achieved some form of breakthrough, outrageously
claiming that they 'will do for poetry what my prose has done'. This 'Lingual
Spontaneity' or what I shall term a 'Bop Poetics' (4.) is the key to understanding much
of the form and language - and sound - of Mexico City Blues. Kerouac can be
regarded as a jazz musician manqué; certainly, his knowledge of the music was deep
and extensive:
'Jack's preeminent [musical] interest was the revolution in the sound of jazz
saxophone... The saxophone had begun to talk with a human voice, with the rhythms
and phrasings of black speech... The bop saxophonist's flight along a variable-noted
line had to stop only when he ran out of breath.' (MB, 125)
One can understand why Kerouac, whose 'preeminent [musical] interest was the
revolution in the sound of jazz saxophone,' began to see the possibilities for a new
poetics. The above quotation from Gerard Nicosia's biography of Kerouac connects
speech and the sound of jazz: the saxophone's ability 'to talk with a human voice' and
the movement of the soloist's line with its similarity to the movement of the voice
expressed in terms of units of breath: 'the bop saxophonist's flight along a
variable-noted line had to stop only when he ran out of breath.' The resultant 'bop
poetics' had a deep parallel with Charles Olson's seminal poetic manifesto of the
Fifties, Projective Verse (1950): 'Olson saw a breath and energy interaction creating
the poetic line. The breath, like the word, is part of the body.' (MC, 44) In his 1968
interview with the Paris Review, Kerouac himself makes an explicit connection to
jazz saxophonists (via a sideswipe at Olson):
'Jazz and bop, in the sense of a , say, a tenor man drawing a breath and blowing a
phrase on his saxophone, till he runs out of breath, and when he does, his sentence,
his statement's been made... [T]hat's how I therefore separate my sentences, as breath
separations of the mind... I formulated the theory of breath as measure, in prose and
verse, never mind what Olson, Charles Olson says, I formulated that theory in 1953 at
the request of Burroughs and Ginsberg. Then there's the raciness and freedom and
humour of jazz.' (5.)
In this passage, Kerouac compares the phrasing of the jazz saxophonist - the 'tenor
man' - which is dictated by his breath control to his own poetic method. Further, the
length of his 'sentences,' his poetry and prose lines, are seen as a direct translation of
his mental movement: 'breath separations of the mind.' At first glance, this emphasis
on mind seems at variance with Olson's theory, where mind and body are linked by
the spontaneous physical process of breath. I would suggest, however, that in the
translation of the 'breath separations of the mind,' via the physical process of writing,
and the reader's reaction's to a line that, to achieve the poet's intentions, forces
him/her to vocalise it, this difference need not be too exaggerated. Further, the end of
the poem implies some return to the body, in its veering away from Buddhism. More
importantly, Olson and Kerouac are linked by their individual attempts to break away
from the over-formalised straitjacket of so much of the poetic establishment of the
time.
Jazz, with its African-American ethos and outlaw status, is also being
privileged as an influence that will help to produce - in theory at least - a more
demotic, slangily vibrant and democratic poetry. Thus, 'the raciness and freedom and
humour of jazz' will be important to his poetics, producing the wild, free-blowing
quality of much of Mexico City Blues, its 'goofiness' and 'gonzo,' go-for-broke
improvisations with no revisions and no turning back. An inclusive, sprawling poetry
that deconstructs the accepted 'high art' model of what a poem should be,and to
which, as Edward Halsey says:
'seemingly anything that fits the general drift of the rhythm, music and tone can be
added, no matter how incongruous it may seem: the sound of a bus outside the
building("Zarooomooo") [MCB, 73, 6], an idea for Buddhist lipstick ("NirvanaNo"),
[MCB, 201,2] nonsense language ("I'm an Agloon") [MCB, 22].
(6.)
He was also an aficionado of the older forms of blues:
'Jack's conception of poetry was also affected by the content of traditional blues.
Blues singers memorialised in song every place they went and everything they did...
Since the blues reported how someone felt at a particular time, they could be happy as
well as sad. For Jack, they served as a perfect vehicle to express - as the bop
musician did in pure sound - his immediate ongoing response to the world.' (MB,
218)
One can see the influence and the attraction for him of these instrumental and
vocal models - a 'perfect vehicle' - in Mexico City Blues. Using a basic form of
chorus to loosely parallel the blues structure, he could freely roam at will through his
imagination, reacting instantly to whatever was happening round him: 'his immediate
ongoing response to the world,' and attempt to incorporate these sensations (translated
into language) straight into the poem, while relying on several motifs and general
themes to bring him back to the ground base, giving the work a textual coherence,
albeit one that is often disguised. This jazz/blues structure, therefore, gives him
freedom of poetic manoeuvre and a flexible form to anchor it in.
A jazz soloist, especially playing live, will react, not just to his musical
accompaniment, but to the particular atmosphere of his surroundings, audience, etc.
Kerouac emulates this improvisatory immediacy in Mexico City Blues, as a
continuation of his earlier his poetic work:
'Mexico City Blues continued the "sensory meditations" Jack had tried in his San
Francisco Blues poems the previous year. There he had followed the visual scene out
the window of the skid-row hotel. Sitting on Bill Garver's bed at 212 Orizaba,
Kerouac let his mind follow his friend's rambling monologue. His method wasn't
literal transcriptions of what was actually being said. Rather, he made his poems out
of what he heard, not necessarily what was said, and what he associated in memory
with what he heard.' (CH, 199-200)
Bill Garver's (7.)'rambling monologue' works with and against Kerouac's writing,
in a call-and response pattern (8.) that is similar to that which is endemic to all forms
of African-American music, from traditional folk song, blues, work songs and gospel,
right through the spectrum of r & b, rap, hip-hop and soul to the most extreme
experiments in improvised jazz. He is free, therefore, either to react to, or ignore,
Garver; as Charters says, he can construct 'his poems out of what he heard, not
necessarily what was said.' In this sense he is often working with the overall sonic
ambience of Garver's words, rather than specific conversational topics. The patterns
of memory that the old man's words may have triggered indirectly are of equal
importance, in this respect, especially with regard to the large sections of the poem
that are concerned with his dead brother Gerard and his family: 'what he associated in
memory with what he heard.'
I will examine the first three choruses of Mexico City Blues in an attempt to
reveal what I have identified as a strong approximation of an underlying jazz/blues
structure that Kerouac uses as a launching-pad for his improvisations and one that he
will return to throughout:
'In the 1900s a three-line stanza, consisting of one line repeated and a third
rhyming line, became widely standardized and is considered the most familiar blues
form. It is performed over twelve bars in common time, though frequent liberties
may be taken with stanza length, and usually follows the harmonic progression of
tonic, subdominant, and dominant chords... [although] a number of variants are
known.'
(GR, 122)
A typical twelve bar blues would be the following chorus from Charlie Patton's
Green River Blues:
'Some people say the Green River blues ain't bad
Some people say the Green River blues ain't bad
Then it must not have been the Green River Blues I had.'
(9.)
Throughout the poem, individual pages of Kerouac's notebook form a separate
chorus, imitating the 'twelve bars' of the individual blues chorus: '... if an idea (or riff)
was not exhausted in that space, he would pick it up in the next poem.' (10.) In the
first three choruses, one can identify a rough approximation to the orthodox blues
'three-line stanza.' But he was attempting to write within a 'bop poetics,' and bop was
a new form of jazz that was more intensely chromatic and rhythmically complex than
its antecedents. At the same time, however, one must bear in mind the continuing
importance of blues in the new music: 'Bebop also re-established blues as the most
important Afro-American form in Negro music by its astonishing contemporary
restatement of the basic blues impulse.' (11.) Arguably, Kerouac's poem works in the
same fashion, by sketching out a form, and then overlaying it with increasing
complexity, while retaining the basic 'blues impulse.' Just as important, perhaps, is
the bop approach to the shape of the melodic line:
''Bop musicians tended to cut their phrases irregularly against the form of the
underlying tune, phrasing in odd lengths... instead of the more regular two- and
four-bar segments of the basic tune and its harmonies. Jazz musicians had of course
always phrased in irregular lengths... But the boppers employed irregular phrasing
more frequently than earlier players had done.' (GR, 596)
Even a simple, almost downhome slow blues, such as Charlie Parker's famous
recording of his composition 'Parker's Mood' (12.)starts with a classic blues riff from
the folkloric memory banks, but by the second four bar section is being double timed
and pried apart. By the third section, this is even more pronounced. Thus, even in the
exposition of the theme, Parker is improvising - by the second chorus, he is running
totally across the bar lines - an effect that Kerouac uses throughout Mexico City
Blues, to follow his poetic thought in a surprisingly exact parallel with 'bop' players
such as Parker. (Although one must remember that blues singers had never totally
respected the form. From early players like Blind Lemon Jefferson to those like John
Lee Hooker, whose career spans most of the century, (13.) individual players had
often exercised the freedom to stretch their lines out as and when it suited them,
taking 'frequent liberties with stanza length' - a technique which echoes Kerouac's
words: 'Add alluvials to the end of your line when all is exhausted but something has
to be said for some specified irrational reason, since reason can never win out,
because poetry is NOT a science.' (14.) In this sense, what might seem archaic and
primitive in the older blues has a surprisingly contemporary resonance. The
explosion of the New Wave in jazz in the late Fifties and early Sixties, which
radically stretched and reshaped the forms of the music, can be seen as a revolution
which, like the bebop of the Forties, was always rooted in the African-American
experience as expressed by the blues. Kerouac often seems to anticipate this
revolution in many parts of the poem with wild, spattering bursts of text, while using
his basic blues structure as a loose form to ground his improvisations on.
The first chorus lays out some of the main themes and motifs of Mexico City
Blues: Buddhism, the American landscape that he travelled so extensively, and
Garver's 'found speech,' compressed into the dense bop/blues line of his poetry. No
explicit reference to jazz occurs until chorus 11, '(musician stops,/brooding on
bandstand),' (MCB, 11, 6-7) - yet the rhythm and form is established from the outset.
1st. CHORUS:
Butte Magic of Ignorance
Butte Magic
Is the same as no-Butte
All one light
Old Rough Roads
One High Iron
Mainway
Denver is the same
"The guy I was with his uncle was
the governor of Wyoming"
"Course he paid me back"
Ten Days
Two weeks
Stock and Joint
"Was an old crook anyway"
The same voice on the same ship
The Supreme Vehicle
S.S. Excalibur
Maynard
Mainline
Mountain
Merudvhaga
Mersion of Missy
2nd. CHORUS:
Man is not worried in the middle
Man in the Middle
Is not Worried
He knows his Karma
Is not buried
But his Karma
Unknown to him,
May end -
Which is Nirvana
Wild men
who kill
Have Karma
Of ill
Good men
Who love
Have Karmas
Of dove
Snakes are Poor Denizens of Hell
Have come surreptitioning
Through the tall grass
To face the pool of clear frogs
3rd. CHORUS:
Describe fires in riverbottom
sand, and the cooking;
the cooking of hot dogs
spitted in whittled sticks
over flames of woodfire
with grease dropping in smoke
to brown and blacken
the salty hotdogs,
and the wine,
and the work on the railroad.
$275, 000, 000, 000.00 in debt
says the Government
Two hundred and seventy five billion
dollars in debt
Like Unending
Heaven
And Unnumbered Sentient Beings
Who will be admitted -
Not-Numberable -
To the new Pair of Shoes
Of White Guru Fleece
Ojo!
The Purple Paradise
(MCB, 1-3.)
These lines introduce the American landscape of the West - 'Butte' as both a
geological feature and a town, Butte, Montana (and/or Nebraska?). But Kerouac is
also alluding to Buddhism and its idea of the world as illusion:
'The Buddha says... that the world usually bases its views on two things, existence
and non-existence. "It is," on one extreme, "it is not" is another. Between these two
limits the world is imprisoned... Avoiding both extremes, the Tathagata teaches a
Dharma in the middle between them, where alone the truth can be found. This
Dharma is now called emptiness. The Absolute is emptiness and all things also are
empty. In this emptiness Nirvana and this world coincide, they are no longer different
but the same.' (CO, 132) (15.)
'Ignorance' is the unenlightened state, and I interpret 'Magic of Ignorance' as 'Art'
and/or the appreciation of the physical landscape of Butte expressed in a fallible
language:
'The ignorant and simple-minded declare that meaning is not otherwise than
words, that as words are, so is meaning. They think that as meaning has no body of
its own that it cannot be different from words and therefore, declare meaning to be
identical with words.' (16.)
An aesthetic fiction, then, within Buddhist terms, but often a compelling one and
inescapable one - especially for a writer. Yet 'Butte Magic of Ignorance' is 'the same
as No-Butte.' Kerouac, following Buddhist teaching, at least at the onset of the poem,
is trying to escape from the 'arbitrary conceptions,' implicit in language (as he says in
the 6th and 7th Chorus: 'The Great Vehicle Being//He Who is Free From Arbitrary
Conceptions of Being or Non-Being' (MCB, 6, 22/MCB, 71-2). Thus, he collapses
the opposition 'Butte/No-Butte,' 'existence and non-existence,' to reach 'the middle
between them, where alone the truth can be found.' In this sense, they are 'the same,'
verbal constructions concealing the reality beyond, which is 'all one light,' the
'emptiness' of the 'Absolute.' He is using his poetic language in a way that is similar
to a Zen koan (17.), forcing the reader to consider the 'reality' behind the poetic text,
which cannot describe it directly but can only proceed by such linguistic strategies:
'... Zen ... is called the philosophy of silence, of meditation rather than talk. Yet,
the literature of Zen is mostly a record of conversations. If Zen arrived at a silence it
was by way of question and answer, leading up to a reply suggesting more than could
be said.' (18.)
The plural 'Old Rough Roads' folds into 'One High Iron Mainway'. Old unofficial
roads and trails of the West, perhaps, but also individual approaches to revelation via
different religions and personal mystical experience - a further blending of the
geographical landscape with the interior spiritual one. The complete phrase and
image contains and resolves the duality of 'High' - abstract and/or hierarchical - with
'Iron' - solid, metal, earthy, material. These are combined into 'One Main etc.' The
Way - of Buddhism (and the Tao) (19.) In such a manner, Kerouac can combine the
spiritual with the concrete, and use a flowing, improvisatory jazzy line, akin to
Olson's dictum, 'first pounded into my head by Edward Dahlberg,' (O, 387) in
Projective Verse: 'ONE PERCEPTION MUST IMMEDIATELY AND DIRECTLY
LEAD TO A FURTHER PERCEPTION.' (O, 387-388) He notates this by indenting
the lines from 'All one light... Mainway' so that they form a block down the page,
mirroring his unfolding thought, coming to rest briefly on the line 'Denver is the
same.' A physical place, indicating a movement from Butte to Denver, and also 'the
same,' in the Buddhist/spiritual sense, as in 'Butte/No-Butte.'
This line is ambiguously placed - it can act as part of a call and response pattern,
the last recapitulatory line of the first four bars of the twelve bar blues structure. Or
lead into the next section, in imitation of the chordal movement of the blues, where
the tonic chord in the fourth bar becomes a seventh that both ends the phrase and
leads into - 'resolves' into - bar five and the subdominant chord. The second section,
the next four bars, as it were, contains 'found speech;' one assumes this is Garver's
'voice' being incorporated into the poem: 'The guy I was with etc.' Again, a
freestanding line: '"Was an old crook anyway"' acts to mark off this second section,
which I read as the second four-bar section of the typical blues. Rhythmic and visual
variation are provided by a different pattern of indentation: a couple of spaces in on
the line "Course he paid me back" followed by the step-by step- diagonal movement
of 'Ten Days... Joint.'
In the last section there is a mingling of Buddhist references, 'The Supreme
Vehicle,' for example, and 'Merudvhaga' combined with a reference to Garver:
'Maynard,' (his second name), and 'Mainline,' a possible reference to his addiction.
Coupled with the play on 'ship,' between 'S.S.Excalibur,' ( a 'Mainline' vessel?) and the
'Supreme Vehicle' of Buddhism, this acts to round off the chorus with a surprising
density. And to lead into the next: the last line is typographically offset slightly, and,
via the rhythmic accumulation of words beginning with 'M,' which provides a
continuation of sound throughout the chorus, 'Magic/Magic/...Mainway/Maynard/
Mainline/Mountain/ Merudvhaga/ Mersion/Missy,' follows on to the first line of the
second chorus : 'Man is not worried in the middle.' ( A demonstration of bop
asymmetrical phrasing that flows over chorus demarcations, and Kerouac's similar
'alluvials.'). The last section of the first chorus is also given rhythmic variation by the
insertion of 'Merudvhaga,' a change from the 'two beat' words: 'Magic', 'Mainway'etc.
to a four or even five beat one towards the end of the series. The repetitions of 'same'
also serve to hold the poem together, and the indenting of the block of lines from 'S.S.
Excalibur... Mersion of Missy,' with the last line indented further again to both end
the chorus and lead into Chorus 2, acts to demonstrate again how Kerouac notates the
flow of his poetic thought.
The second chorus develops an improvisation on its opening line: 'Man is not
worried in the middle,' (i.e. the 'enlightened' man who has discovered the 'Dharma in
the middle'), by firstly inverting it: 'Man in the Middle/Is not Worried' and then
proceeding through more Buddhist references, the rhymed 'Karma' and 'Nirvana.' The
change of rhythm in the second section: 'Wild men/ Who kill/Have Karmas/Of
ill...Good men/Who love/Have Karmas/Of dove' detaches it from the previous section
by a 'breath separation of the mind,' to suggest another approximation of the tripartite
blues structure.
The final section of Chorus two moves into a Christian reference with a strong
echo of Emily Dickinson (20.) in both its diction and the capitalisations (signalled by
the preceding lines in section two?): 'Snakes are Poor Denizens of Hell.' By this
doubling of religious and natural landscape - 'the tall grass,' 'the pool of clear frogs' -
Kerouac creates a smooth transition into the third chorus, via his 'alluvials' of thought
and accepted bop practice, re-inforced textually by the lack of a full stop after frogs.
And the faint echo of hell-fire, perhaps, which now becomes a man-made
conflagration: 'fires in riverbottom/sand.' This is both the world of bums and hobo
jungles - and the world of work: 'the work on the railroad.' Again, one can identify a
tripartite structure, which appears to mirror his thought processes as they move from
one subject/idea to another. The second starts at '$275, 000, 000, 000.00 in debt,' with
an almost concealed third part commencing with 'Who will be admitted,' this line
being indented, although running on from the second section. In section two the
poem jumps from the world of 'the work on the railroad' to the economic/political
'says the Government' and circles back to religion in section three via the vast, almost
incomprehensible sum of the national debt, which is 'Like unending/Heaven/And
Unnumbered Sentient Beings who will be admitted.' The lines 'To the new Pair of
Shoes/Of White Guru Fleece/Ojo!/The Purple Paradise' can be seen as a textual (and
spiritual?) blending of Buddhism and Christianity, which have previously occurred
separately, the 'Guru' of the East with the 'White... Fleece'of the Lamb of God, (an
undertone of Blake?), (21.) the exclamation 'Ojo!' followed by 'Paradise.' These lines
signify the two polarities of religion that Kerouac will swing between in Mexico City
Blues; although the poem is self-evidently heavily Buddhist in its overall tone,
Christian imagery will surface constantly throughout.
This chorus also demonstrates the ongoing variety of Kerouac's line; the first two
choruses have a more sparse appearance, but here the poem becomes denser,
suggesting a soloist who, having initially sketched in some of the motifs that he will
be using as improvising material, will suddenly erupt into a more complex,
longer-lined run of thoughts. Yet again, facets of Parker's style are relevant in this
context; short rythmic phrases interspersed with long double-timed passages. The
visual effect is of a verbal density and speed that matches many of the latter's
note-crammed virtuoso solos.
I have tried to demonstrate the flexibility of Kerouac's technique in this loose blues
form: this offers what might be termed a 'smooth parataxis,' (no doubt related in part
to the marijuana he was constantly smoking), which allows him to move swiftly and
easily between the natural world and religious and spiritual speculation, often via
Garver's interjections. The Buddhist phraseology and philosophy often critiques, in a
self-reflexive way, the possibility of textually describing 'reality': 'Butte/Non-Butte'
etc. It is across these tensions, between language and the reality it attempts to
describe - and the ever-lurking Catholicism that sometimes blends with and
sometimes contradicts his Buddhism - that the poem will flow, sometimes uneasily,
sometimes 'goofily' and child-like, for 242 choruses.
Go to Chapter Two