Bido Lito!

The Viscounts and the disembodiment of instrumentals

Instrumentals are curious compositions, they utter not a single word, they make no lyrical references to anchour us yet they conjure scenes that play-out in worlds of figment, worlds in the metaphysical sense...evocative and hazy. Hailing from New Jersey, The Viscounts recorded jazz-staple Harlem Nocturne in 1958. Though it stalled at number 52 upon its initial release, its re-issue scraped into the Billboard Top 40 9 years later and remains an encapsulating descent into the libidinally-charged jazz clubs of 1940s Harlem. Imagine Cats that slink through plumes of sweet-reefer smoke to the heady music throbbing in stoned pulsations, murky characters in Zoot-Suits and wide-brimmed Fedoras conduct murkier enterprises in flickering recesses with a calming pragmatism that betrays the horror of the deeds.

It’s strange how music can evoke the endless escapades of the night, as the night itself may fall as silent as a vacuum. Kerouac touches on it in On The Road, lamenting the prissy white-orientated scene that nullifies his senses while celebrating the lure of the twilight. “At lilac evening I walked with every muscle aching among the lights of the 27th and Welton in the Denver coloured section, wishing I were a Negro, feeling that the best the white world had offered was not enough ecstasy for me, not enough life, joy, kicks, darkness, music, not enough night.”

That The Viscounts were an all white group playing this hypnotic ‘black’ music, Kerouac’s sentiments may have reverberated and entrenched themselves into their sonic vision, who knows?  Is it the aural qualities of the instrumentation that entices? That we connect the dots by correlating the paradigmatic choices made by the musicians? The favour of the sleazy sax over the punch of a trumpet, the decision to lubricate the guitar in tremulous vibrato, the drugged ominous bass, all amalgamating in harmonious respect for the desired image, an image of lust, danger and intoxication. And it’s the image that is key here. Like a painter carefully considering the geometrics of the composition, stylistically favouring sponge-dabbing over a glazed-wash. The utilisation of vibrant colours, muted tones, metaphorical placements within the picture all may serve to lead the viewer down a particular path.

However, as receptors, our ears are dissimilar to our eyes. Our ears force us to think, to formulate personalised pictures that aren’t governed by what we actually see but what we imagine we hear. In other words, the instrumentation will only grasp our hand so far until we’re left to explore on our own. It’s this very freedom to generate such assorted and unique interpretations that arguably elevates music above and beyond the visual arts. Though it’s such a contentious statement...I’m already having trouble with it.

Philip Gofton