USA, 1953, big band
I’m not that familiar with or knowledgeable of scat singing, but I like what I hear when it pops up. That kind of extemporaneous vocal improvisation tickles my experimental fancy, especially when it’s laid over butter-smooth music full of swanky, lazing saxophones. This music is from a time when jazz was meant to be danced to.
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But Duke Ellington is not the be-all, end-all of jazz, no matter what Ken Burns says.
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