Pool: The cut of your jib, no jive

A friend pointed out the difference between “jive” and “jibe,” and how they get mixed up. That’s all it took for me to start writing this column.

The word “jive” comes from a style of music in the 1940s and ’50s, originally dance music by big bands or rock and roll groups. “Jive dancing” was what scandalized adults born early in the 20th century.

Then it turned into a word describing the slang of African-American musicians. Sometimes it meant something false or untrustworthy. “Don’t give me your jive story.” The usage hardly survives, though some of that slang did. Black musicians started calling each other “man” in part because all their lives they’d been called “boy.”

Once you realize that, the opening line of a famous old song with its “Pardon boys, is that the Chattanooga Choo-Choo?” takes on a different coloration. I doubt that young people know that song.

“Jibe” can mean two different things. It can be a taunt, and is also spelled “gibe.” This usage goes back to the 1570s, from French. “Jive” can also mean “taunt,” as in “We were jiving with him all afternoon.” The connection is poorly documented.

The more common use of “jibe” nowadays denotes how something fits or agrees. “That jibes with what I’ve heard about him.” This use goes back to 1813 and may have had a nautical source.

A jib is a hanging foresail of a ship. The word might have come into English in the 1660s from Dutch.”I like the cut of his jib,” means that someone carries himself properly. But like “jive,” only older people would know this expression.

Anyway, people find it easy to confuse the “v” with “b.” I pointed out to my friend that the entire Spanish-speaking world does the same thing. I had a Spanish teacher from Valencia once, and he would go off on a tear about how pronouncing the city with a “Vee” sound was equivalent to calling our national capital “Bashington.”

Two words that confused me for many years are “O” and “oh.” Some songs begin with phrases such as “O beautiful,” or “O Susanna,” or “O God our help in ages past.” The King James Version has “O ye of little faith.”

It’s the last remnant of the vocative case in English. That case identifies a person or thing being addressed, even if it’s an inanimate object. The use is regarded as formal, and since we hardly use it anymore, people just assume it’s an alternate spelling for “oh.”

Oh, yeah, about that “oh.” It’s an interjection, something that conveys a range of emotions from fear to surprise to joy. Many European languages have this interjection, though surprisingly, Old English did not, as the interjection comes into use in the 1530s from French or Latin.

It’s a marvelously flexible little word. It can show love and gratitude, “Oh, thank you!” Conversely, it can be one of the briefest putdowns. After listening to some rambling excuse or explanation, try saying, “Oh,” and nothing else. Oh my, that can work wonders.

A final pair of words that get confused are “loathe” and “loath.” The former means to despise or hold in contempt, as in “I absolutely loathe (name a politician).” The latter indicates reluctance. “Although I agree with many of her policies, I am still loath to give her my vote.”

There are many other word pairs that get confused. Most people won’t even notice the mix-up; you can hardly expect gibes. Others appreciate the tautness of linguistic rigging; they like the cut of your word-jib. O brave new word that has such meanings in it!