“Everything is going to the beat. It’s the beat generation, it’s the beat, it’s the beat to keep, it’s the beat of the heart, it’s being beat and down in the world and like oldtime lowdown and like in ancient civilizations the slave boatmen rowing galleys to a beat and servants spinning pottery to a beat.”
While traveling for the past few weeks through the beautiful tropical scenery of Surinam in South America, I had time to think. Time to read. Time to do nothing. No internet. No phone. Time to look around and not race, not taking part in the rat race. And it was heavenly. No pressure. Seriously easy going.
While traveling I read a bunch of books, of which one was from Jack Kerouac; On the Road. A fast book about a young man and his roadtrip adventures through America. The book is an American Classic and after reading, I can only agree. Jack Kerouac has a distinctive fast and describing writingstyle that is easily recognizable. The book is full of famous quotes about life and traveling of which one can describe my hunger for traveling:
“Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me.
As it is ever so on the road.”
The act of leaving is so simple. Yet so difficult in this modern society. How I wish to have lived a couple of decades ago.
When I got back a friend had sent me some new music he discovered of which one was the Jazzual Suspects; This Beat.
While listening to this song for the first time I recognized the style of the spoken word. It was fast and describing, just like the book I had read on my trip. I instantly googled the song for more information and found out that the spoken word is actually Jack Kerouac himself, reading from Desolation Angels, a book he wrote at the same time as On The Road!
This is why I love Hip Hop, Jazz, Music in general. Mixing classic material to a whole new thing. Ace.
Digg the full lyrics below.
Now it’s jazz, the place is roaring, all beautiful girls in there, one mad brunette at the bar drunk with her boys – one strange chick I remember from somewhere, wearing a simple skirt with pockets, her hands in there, short haircut, slouched, talking to everybody – Up and down the stairs they come the bartenders are the regular brand of Jack, and the heavenly drummer who looks up in the sky with blue eyes, with a beard, is wailing beercaps of bottles and jamming on the cash register and everything is going to the beat — it’s the beat generation, it’s beat. It’s the beat to keep, it’s the beat of the heart, it’s being beat and down in the world and like old-time lowdown and like in ancient civilizations the slave boat- men rowing galleys to a beat and servants spinning pottery to a beat.