The Probable As To the Ws.

Although most of the context of this blog is all based on my opinion, I can assure you that I’ve done a lot of research. Starting from the very resourceful Youtube, to attending Wheaton’s spoken word group: iSpeak. I’ve Watched professionals do their thing live in color, I’ve had countless talks with artist and friends about it, which I very much regret not being able to include. But nonetheless, some of their knowledge was passed on to me and I’ve done my best to let their thoughts shape my understanding for the topic of Spoken Word.  With that said, here is my conclusion.

There are so many different types of art that surrounds and corners us on the daily basis. More likely than not, we as competitive individuals, don’t ever take the time to appreciate the artistic beauty that others have to offer.

Just like with paintings or songs, there’re really good ones and extremely horrible ones, in my opinion, this all depends on the taste of the receptor. As a man-in-the-making, I’ve gone through many ups and downs and experienced completely different things than most people I’ve meet; therefore I find my place in selected groups/forms/genres of expression. Spoken Word being one.  I’ve normally being just a part of the active listening audience, but through this research I was able to take a step further and realize I have and I’m capable of doing much more. The art of spoken word is in a lot more places than I’d imagined including in my own friends.

While choosing the specific questions I wanted to answer in my research, I hypothesized that inner city kids are better at spoken word, than small town ones. Now I can’t say that I came across many “small townies” while researching.  Based on ratio and percentage, I argue that inner city kids tend to be better based on the amount of fueled created by the things they are exposed to. However, there are several outstanding patterns in the types of poets. They are: race, social status and influences. For the most mart, if not entirely, spoken word artist come from having very little and the lower class, at least the ones that become professionals and try to make a living out of the art. That’s not to say this is just the way it is, it just so happen that I didn’t encounter otherwise.

To finalize my work in this blog, I feel like I owe it to the topic to finish off with a little something I wrote.

 

Probable Answer

Ask me why the chicken crossed the road

And I’ll tell you

Because

There was a bible and a gun on his side

But a golden coin and some bred on the other.

True Hip Hop minus the beat.

While in 2008, Hip-Hop has taken an image of money, cars, jewelry and barely dressed women, there was a time this wasn’t the case. Even more, this kind of Hip-Hop still exists underneath the radio sound waves and digital cable. As an individual who believes that beats and rhymes flow through my veins, I try giving all kinds of artist a chance before I label them as well-marketed rubbish. However I’m no expert, just a fan that uses music as medication.
One of my favorite rappers for sometime now is Kanye West, who was pronounced: best rapper of 2007, according to MTV. At the 2008 American Music Awards, he won “favorite rap/hip-hop male artist.” Kanye started out in the mainstream industry with bodies of work that had strong connections to that of spoken word. However, like the majority of the real popular rappers, his lyrics started focusing a lot on money and all the stereotypes of Hip-Hop.
As a fan of this music genre, I’ve noticed that the majority of rappers begin their professional carriers telling their stories and the things they’ve gone through, but eventually move on from that and stop at their new life style: being rich and famous. However, there are those who manage not to brag too much and keep their ties to spoken word, which in my opinion is where the pen and paper first take these artists.
Underneath are some legends of Hip Hop, who in the clips are introduced as, “not needing no introduction.”
List goes from youngest to oldest in the industry.
Kanye West:

DMX:

Erykah Baduh


Rakim:

You can do more than snaps.

This posting is somewhat of a critique towards the mainstream poets but more than anything, a sign of appreciation for their talent and level of creativity.

"If you’re going to tell people the truth, you better make them laugh; otherwise they’ll kill you.” – George Bernard Shaw

The industry and money plays a big role, as in most cases in regards to performing art, in spoken word. Mainstream anything pretty much means that is made to appeal to the masses and not to be kept underground.
Russell Simons, one of the most solid names in hip hop put together an HBO special, paying tribute to spoken word. He was able to gather the most known names in this field and in others. Amongst the line up of poets, there were hip-hop legends funny poets and even comedians.
Here is a little taste of the more entertaining side of spoken word:

Beau Sia:



Jamie Foxx:



Dante Basco:



Shihan:



Dave Chappelle




Spoken word is a very tricky and easily misunderstood title for the art. Breaking it down and first looking at spoken, which means saying something in order to convey a message. Word: a single distinct element of speech, in other words, everything. Now when combining the two, you get the art of speaking about “anything”, with a kick of attitude that is. Think of an open mic. night, usually opened to anything that people want to share. More or less, that is spoken word.

Citations:

I got the above videos from youtube, but they were originally recorded and aired by HBO.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fndMa0HHvVU
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsEZw_KaUPk&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrXgGQaUtlE&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=muNOyqhVjg8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C40EUMU3pFc

In Words We Passion: Some Struggle

Where you from Isaac?
New York City
New York City? You must find this place just like home than.
Ha yeah, just like it.

It’s Saturday night (Sunday morning if you want be technical), living the college life as a sophomore from New York City, making the best out of my situation in Norton, MA. It’s 3 am and I just finished spinning records for a house party at Wheaton. As my partner and I are packing our equipment, one of the house members comes over and begins small talk asking questions like “what are you doing tomorrow,” the usual polite stuff. Not too long from than we ended up outside the house talking about spoken word and what it meant to us. Too make a long story very short, I was told that in order for me to take that step into actually understanding this form of art, I had to try out myself.
Here’s my attempt at creating art with the simplest tools humanity has to offer:

I don’t even wanna talk about the specifics
I don’t even wanna get into it
I just wanna
I just wanna
I just wanna
Let it go for 30 seconds
Put it all aside for 30 seconds
Make it seem like nothing has ever happened, for 30 seconds
Make it seems like everything will be ok, for 30 seconds
Feel like my wings have finally been granted, for 30 seconds
Spit at the sky and not have it land on my face, for 30 seconds
Forget about everyone I know for, for 30 seconds
Have everyone forget about me, for 30 seconds
I just want 30 seconds where my mind is not connecting me to my conscious
30 seconds where all the light bulbs around me shatter in 360 pieces
Removing everything around me In One blink,
But keep the light on
30 seconds where being hard-in a tough guy kind of sense- is soft
But being soft- in a sensitive guy kind of sense- is not optional:
It’s just being
30 seconds where the lights of the world go off and freeze time
But heat up my emotions and pains
Freeing the rough diamond of thoughts
That stab me in the back as I sleep during the day
30 seconds where MY dream is MINE
And forget you if you’re not in it
But thank you for being here during the 30 seconds I actually get.


Isaac, where’d you get that scar from?
Don’t worry about it.

Little Brown Book: Connecting the dots

My senior year of high school, I was asked to give a speech by the mentors of a foundation called Summer Search. Summer Search had been a huge part of my growth and evolution throughout high school, so it was only right I’d say yes. The speech was meant to welcome the new batch of high school sophomores from around NYC, or convince those who still had their doubts with the foundation. I had never given a speech before in front of an audience and the intimidation of a college auditorium. With some help from a few of my mentors, I gathered my words, got on that stage, adjusted the mic and spoke about my trajectory.
When my legs stopped shaking and I was given the chance to sit back down, I was told there was a “very special gift” for me underneath my chair. I tore through the baby blue gift-wrap and came out with a little brown leather book with yellow pages. I went home and put it away until June 15, 2008.
Sometime in early June of 2008, I found myself in Central Park with one of my close friends talking about how life changes and unless you constantly remind yourself of the past you’ll loose yourself in the future. He asked me if he could read me something he wrote, I agreed. After he was done, he starred at his work and said, “man I’ve really been feeling speaking my words, lately.” That, and “see that’s me, that’s how I feel, it’s for me, and maybe you if you let it,” were the two lines I wrote down on my little brown book on June 15, 2008.
Now I don’t want to disrespect my friend’s privacy, so I’ll just say this: If experience and struggle put 25 cents in that man’s pocket-every time they flew in with the winds of life-right now he’d be rich. And I’m not talking about the stuff you see on shows like MTV’s “The Hills” or the overly hyped, mainstream hip-hop lyrics you hear on the radio. I’m talking about the stuff you don’t hear about, unless you find yourself ready to listen, and someone to listen to.
It was dark and a bit windy, there were about 10 benches going left and 10 going right from where we were sitting and one light post right in front. He took two steps left and two right, crisscrossing his legs with his back to the light. Bit his bottom lip, closed his eyes and let the words loose as they traveled from his mouth to my ear, being guided by the movement of his hands like an orchestra leader leading a hip hop beat for the first time.
He didn’t have much skills in the art, what he did have was passion, aggression and motivation. To me, that was a good piece.