Roots talk revival

>> Montreal's black spoken word scene is alive and kicking, thanks to Coco Café and other vibrant showcases

by VINCENT TINGUELY

If you've attended a black spoken word performance in Montreal lately, you may have been treated to Parisian French, Haitian Creole, Jamaican patois and American hip hop. It's a reflection of the city's black mosaic, which draws from the diasporic cultures of the Caribbean and of North and South America, as well as from the African motherland herself.

"I think it's good that people include their mother tongue or the language of their family or of their country of origin," says Mahalia Verna of Inobe Productions, the folks behind black spoken word soirées Coco Café and Allongé. "I find it adds another dimension to the pieces--using a language of the past to express hopes for the future is what makes it beautiful."

A fixture on this city's performance-poetry scene, Inobe Productions is no overnight sensation. The hard-working crew (currently consisting of producers Inobe Stanislaus and Tania Best, publicist and host Verna, art director Dave Anderson, and stage manager and frequent performer Selena Iles) has been producing the spoken word showcase Coco Café since 1997. Last October, they launched a French-language spoken word series, Allongé, that's already starting to catch on with the city's black francophone community. In addition, each member of the production crew has other irons in the fire, like Stanislaus's first short film production, slated for March.

"Everybody in the troupe can have their own goals about what they want to do," Stanislaus says, "but the events that we're doing are giving us the experience, the networking and the confidence to actually go out there and do it." Coco Café and Allongé, together with Karen Stewart's saucy Soul Shack series and the rootsy events organized by Yah Ga Yah Productions, are forging a vivid black spoken word scene in Montreal.

Speaking in tongues

According to Stanislaus, there's a certain amount of cross-pollination going on in the scene. "[Local performer] Sabrina Clery is doing a lot of spoken word mixed with her singing. It's very Caribbean, but she's doing a lot of the African-American talking to a jazz beat," he explains. "And with the French, there's always the Creole whipping in."

Kaie Kellough, a skilled spoken word artist and one of the hosts of McGill radio CKUT's Soul Perspectives show, thinks this might be part of an evolution of black culture in Canada. "Black communities have always had an interesting relationship with language. We're speaking the colonial language now and language is something that black people personalize. In Canada, there are a bunch of different idioms that have been imported from other places, like from the States and from the Caribbean. These idioms are starting to blend together, sift down and form."

Part of the vibe of the current black spoken word scene is the move into plush downtown lounges. Allongé and Coco Café happen at Jello Bar and Soul Shack's latest base is the Citron Lounge. Alex Boutros, who's currently producing a women's spoken word anthology for Wired on Words, says some artists prefer more familiar venues. "I think there's a bit of a push to have the genre--whether it's spoken word, music or hip hop--be taken a little more seriously, to make it more accessible to a younger, more diverse audience. There's a movement away from using spoken word at community events, and to have poetry once again be focused on."

Talkin' politics

There's also been something of a shift in the political tone of black spoken word since the days of spoken word activists the Diasporic African Poets in the mid- to late-'80s. At the time, tensions were reaching a peak in the black community over the shootings of Anthony Griffin and other black youth by the Montreal police. According to community activist and performer Pat Dillon-Moore, "It wasn't until Marcellus François was killed that some students formed the protest group AKAX, and they were militant. Michael Pintard was there. He was into the student government and activism, plus he was a prolific dub poet. It was out of that whole movement that you ended up with the Diasporic African Poets."

Pintard formed DAP with spoken word artists Jillian DeGannes, Dee Smith, Amuna Baraka and Tisca Pratt. "The first meeting was held at the Black Studies Centre," Dillon-Moore explains. "I think that's when [editor-producer] Anthony Bansfield was invited to become a part of it. From there, whenever there was an event, DAP was asked to perform."

Verna sees a less confrontational scene happening these days. "When people hear 'black spoken word,' they think it's going to be some kind of rant against the white community and the white establishment, that it's always going to be pro-Malcolm X and pro-Black Panther," she muses. "Just a rehash of our forefathers' words, or just bashing society in general. That's not what it's about, and I think that's what takes a lot of people by surprise when they attend a show like Coco Café, or when they attend a show that's held by [local performer] nah ee lah."

In other words, some things are universal. "We all share the same feelings, the same emotions," Verna continues. "It's not because we're black that we're going to talk about all the injustices that have been done to our people. We want to talk about everyday things as well."

Poetic rebirth

The current black spoken word scene found its start at Isart, a club and art gallery founded by Carole Faubert and Clement Grant in early '96, which closed in '99. Stanislaus, Best and Verna organized their first show, the multidisciplinary Que es Diva, soon after Isart opened; the Coco Café was born there too. The space also housed Abacus Entertainment's multicultural cabaret Volume and Tanya Evanson's Clicking Tongues, a talent showcase for women of colour. Chalice, a monthly black spoken word series, introduced artists from the New York and Toronto scenes to young Montreal performers like Debbie Young, nah ee lah, Kaie Kellough, Mathematik, Akin Alaga and Jason Selman. The impetus for all this activity was--and still is--the need for black spoken word to express its cultural character.

Kellough immediately noticed the communal energy when he went to his first Chalice show. "It seemed like spoken word was really alive and vibrant. It's almost like you're in church, because the audience gets involved and actually verbally engages the performer." Boutros concurs, "Audiences accustomed to listening to the oral traditions of various black peoples, including some spoken word genres and hip hop, are more than comfortable with the speed, rhythm and back-and-forth nature of my and Kaarla Sundstroem's work."

According to Verna, "There's a difference in the form, the rhythm of the expression, and the type of interaction that a black spoken word artist is trying to get from the audience. The black heritage is very much perpetuated by storytelling."

And that sense of connection with the audience is what the Coco Café thrives on. "Getting a response, and sensing that the person you're telling the story to is going to come back for more, or hit you with reactions, means you give more," she explains. "Instead of just communicating in a cerebral state, black spoken word is about using rhythms, metaphors and images to communicate a story."

Here and Now, a special Black History Month edition of Coco Café, takes place at Jello Bar on Sunday, Feb 25, 9pm, $7