I staid at Wheaton, in the middle of nowhere Massachusetts for my birthday (September 9th), instead of going to New York City and celebrating with my best friends, one of whom I’ve been sharing the same day of birth with, for the past 19 years. Did not get any material things from anyone on this day or those that came after, but on October 17, 2008, I spent $20 on the homecoming COMMON concert ticket. To even make my long waited personal birthday celebration better, one of the best spoken-word artist that Brooklyn has fathered, Lemon, put on a “FREE” show and brought some younger talent from New York City with him. Happy Birthday To Me.
LEMON: Don't Forget About The POOR
Aja Monet: You Make Holy War
Common: For The People
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vqn5f2ISnvo
For those of you who don’t know Common, you are not living the right life, however it is perfectly understandable because the man still keeps connections to spoken word, which is not mainstream. But the real deal that although was looked as the entree, became the main coarse, Lemon, brought the house down and his team built it back up. With Lemon, came the 2007 NUYORICAN champion, who is by far, the best female performer I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying live. Now lemon is a TONY awards winning poet, 8 appearances on HOBs Def Jam, has sold out shows to the biggest and most respected urban theaters in the nation, along with serving time in prison, amongst other things. If he tells you someone has skills, you better believe it. While introducing Aja Monet, Lemon said that being a Nuyorican Slam champion is the hardest/ best title to obtain in the poetry world, which she holds as being the youngest poet to ever get it. Besides her—far beyond the intellectuality of even most college professors—lyrics and messages, a great thing about her style, was that she talked about her pieces before performing them. She was able to let people into her mindset before and while writing, making her work that much more powerful, but more importantly, allowing the average mind to comprehend the almightiness of her words. I was not able to talk to her after the show so I can’t share much more about her pieces and experiences, but I’ll work on it (FACEBOOK!).
Citation
I borrowed the three videos from youtube. Hope that doesn't offend the artists or anyone else.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2qqf09DOgQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_BRSHcT2RmU
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vqn5f2ISnvo
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Squirrel
It’s Friday afternoon, eighty percent of the college population is gathering the necessary to last the long four-day weekend at home, or any location of choice. The majority of the people at my job have called in “sick,” some of the sincere ones just ask for a shift cover. I have no rush in getting on a bus and being stuck in traffic for an extra three hours, so I staid on campus, went to work and waited until the next day. At 2:30 pm, just like every other Friday, the silent Poet comes in smiling and in a rush. She tells me that she’s got a package and it’s going to be right back. She comes back, opened her package and shows me a black book, and starts telling me how nice those kinds of books are for writing. With no shame in my game, I deliver the question: “So, have you thought about my umm proposition if you will.” She asked me to explain my purpose again, but this time I make it more appealing and attractive based on the conversations we had before. I could almost see her saying yes, but I knew if I didn’t take advantage of this door opening, it could close forever. So I brought up the fact that the co-president of iSpeak said that the “before stuff sucks, and it’s about the feeling after permormind.” Her bottom jaw dropped in disagreement, landing on the keyboard, typing wow on the screen in caps. Squirrel, the silent poet, granted me permission to use her for my research.
Of course she put up conditions and regulations, but at that moment I could not have cared any less. I gathered myself back and gave her my respect; with that said, thank you “SQUIRRELL.” Although I’ve never read any pieces nor heard anything by squirrel, I have a feeling her talent is one worth being in the silent for.
Of course she put up conditions and regulations, but at that moment I could not have cared any less. I gathered myself back and gave her my respect; with that said, thank you “SQUIRRELL.” Although I’ve never read any pieces nor heard anything by squirrel, I have a feeling her talent is one worth being in the silent for.
Third friday
My first meeting at iSpeack, the on campus spoken words group, was meant for me to introduce myself and what my relationship to the group was going to be like over the next few weeks. Luckily I was able to make a lot more progress than that, and actually begin my “research.” The group had a big performance coming up; they were going to be one of the opening acts for the Homecoming performance. To my benefit, the artist chosen this year is COMMON, being one of the few artists, whose lyrics come close to resembling that of a spoken word poet. Common has been a performer at Russell Simmons’ “Def Jam,” which is a serious of HBO specials that give floor space to the best poets in the country. Even more so, COMMON is one of my favorite rappers, so this was a win win situation for me, yet again.
During the discussion of how their opening act was going to work out, I was able to get a good first impression of “who” some of these poets are. Starting with the first reader of the day, Dashawn. A 19 year old, Jamaican American male from the notorious Coney Island in Brooklyn New York, home to some of the finest talent in the country. His voice is soft but his words shoot at you real fast, keeping your attention very sharp, just like his message. “ART” a 19-year-old African American female from Boston Massachusetts, with a flow serious enough to resemble a young Erica Badu, but enough art to remain similar to none. J.G, an 18-year-old writer with a voice as powerful as his words, and stories that make his swagger and attitude look natural. Keni, a 19-year-old newly self found poet, whose appearance shows no pain or struggle, but body language will double slap your eyes wide open and inject reality. The last poet that caught my attention at this meeting was one of he co-presidents of ispeak, Melanie. Melanie did not perform a piece, but her words still managed to have an impression on me. What she said went something like this, “The before stuff sucks (the writing and the performing). It’s after the performance that it all feels good.” A looked around waiting for a reaction from anyone in the room, however, I found none. I left the room looking for one and I will.
During the discussion of how their opening act was going to work out, I was able to get a good first impression of “who” some of these poets are. Starting with the first reader of the day, Dashawn. A 19 year old, Jamaican American male from the notorious Coney Island in Brooklyn New York, home to some of the finest talent in the country. His voice is soft but his words shoot at you real fast, keeping your attention very sharp, just like his message. “ART” a 19-year-old African American female from Boston Massachusetts, with a flow serious enough to resemble a young Erica Badu, but enough art to remain similar to none. J.G, an 18-year-old writer with a voice as powerful as his words, and stories that make his swagger and attitude look natural. Keni, a 19-year-old newly self found poet, whose appearance shows no pain or struggle, but body language will double slap your eyes wide open and inject reality. The last poet that caught my attention at this meeting was one of he co-presidents of ispeak, Melanie. Melanie did not perform a piece, but her words still managed to have an impression on me. What she said went something like this, “The before stuff sucks (the writing and the performing). It’s after the performance that it all feels good.” A looked around waiting for a reaction from anyone in the room, however, I found none. I left the room looking for one and I will.
My first day of research
I emailed and talked to the two co-presidents of the on-campus spoken word group (iSPEACK). I informed of my purpose in joining the group, to make sure they were ok with the idea. Furthermore, I had already established personal connections with some of the Artist who at the first sound of my idea, volunteered themselves for the research.
The first meeting I ended was on Friday September 26, 2008. It was a rainy, dark and dull day; All I wanted to do, is take my soaked behind home, watch “The Boondocks” and nap. But fortunately enough, I had to work till 4:30 pm and than run across campus to the ispeack meeting. At worked I watched “Gang Wars” which got me a bit fired up to attain the meeting. Being a work for four and a half hours isn’t usually a problem, but there’s something about the rain, that makes it one. To my luck right in that same room I was, there were two unknown variables to my research: an active member of ispeack and a “silent poet.” I didn’t take much interest in the guy from ispeak, since I figured I was going to spend some time with him later on, but the silent poet, oh that silent poet! I was popping questions left and right not getting many details, but the broad things let out were still juicy and very interesting. I let the silent poet know of my situation; the reason why I’m doing this and what my goal is. The silent poet did not give me a definite answer but did not sound too interested. I was told to wait for an answer, and so I will.
4:30 came around and I took my time double checking I had all my things with me. I walked as fast as I could making my way to the second floor of this lounge soaked and very tired. I wasn’t paid much attention to when I walked in since the poets were discussing their upcoming event and planning for it. I wanted to interrupt to let them know who I was and what I was doing just so that everyone was ok with it and there wouldn’t be any conflicts, but I didn’t. One poet read a piece he had put together 2 hours before the meeting. IT was very personal, the voice wasn’t angry, the words were calm but the message was a furious one; powerful as the image of the bullets being described to the listeners. After this I knew I couldn’t let anyone else go without me introducing myself first. So I did, and I let them know that I was ok if they did not feel comfortable with anything I was doing. Luckily I was given complete freedom to do whatever I wanted. I was in, and so it began.
The first meeting I ended was on Friday September 26, 2008. It was a rainy, dark and dull day; All I wanted to do, is take my soaked behind home, watch “The Boondocks” and nap. But fortunately enough, I had to work till 4:30 pm and than run across campus to the ispeack meeting. At worked I watched “Gang Wars” which got me a bit fired up to attain the meeting. Being a work for four and a half hours isn’t usually a problem, but there’s something about the rain, that makes it one. To my luck right in that same room I was, there were two unknown variables to my research: an active member of ispeack and a “silent poet.” I didn’t take much interest in the guy from ispeak, since I figured I was going to spend some time with him later on, but the silent poet, oh that silent poet! I was popping questions left and right not getting many details, but the broad things let out were still juicy and very interesting. I let the silent poet know of my situation; the reason why I’m doing this and what my goal is. The silent poet did not give me a definite answer but did not sound too interested. I was told to wait for an answer, and so I will.
4:30 came around and I took my time double checking I had all my things with me. I walked as fast as I could making my way to the second floor of this lounge soaked and very tired. I wasn’t paid much attention to when I walked in since the poets were discussing their upcoming event and planning for it. I wanted to interrupt to let them know who I was and what I was doing just so that everyone was ok with it and there wouldn’t be any conflicts, but I didn’t. One poet read a piece he had put together 2 hours before the meeting. IT was very personal, the voice wasn’t angry, the words were calm but the message was a furious one; powerful as the image of the bullets being described to the listeners. After this I knew I couldn’t let anyone else go without me introducing myself first. So I did, and I let them know that I was ok if they did not feel comfortable with anything I was doing. Luckily I was given complete freedom to do whatever I wanted. I was in, and so it began.
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