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Black thought
crusade >> Poet Saul Williams observes and analyzes the plight of the thinking black artist
Mirror:
I’ve noticed that most of the media has portrayed you as some sort
of crusader for truth in both music and poetry. Do you see yourself
like that? Saul Williams:
Crusader?(laughs) I am in a sense a crusader, but not because they said
that I am. I’m fighting a crusade that needs to be fought. Most
people heard of me through poetry circles, and considering you have
to be dead and white to get any kind of respect as a poet in America,
I sometimes feel like I have a unique opportunity and responsibility.
Well, I guess you could be old and black like Maya Angelou and still
do alright, but I would never use the word “crusade.” I only
used it because you did. M: What
would you call it then? SW: I’m
out to show and prove that there is a place for thoughtful art in the
black community. The plight of the thinking young black artist is that
it’s hard to get that shit out there. White popular music has room
for a thinking side, but in black music, if it’s not escapist,
then you’re going to have a hard time. Every time you turn around,
there’s another bullshit film or another bullshit album that just
refuses to think. The challenge is taking the peripheral artists and
marginal expressions and allowing them to explore a greater sense of
purpose and being. M: I’ve
probably read two or three articles this month where the phrase “Black
music is dead” has turned up. Do you think there’s any truth
to that claim? SW: I think
they’re referring to hip hop when they say that. Hip hop reacted
to the Vanilla Ices and MC Hammers of that era with a return to “keeping
it real.” Your shit had to be ghetto or from the projects to afford
a certain legitimacy. Enter Biggie, Mobb Deep, Tupac and a whole bunch
of artists whose mentality influenced what we hear in the mainstream
today. The problem is, people like De La, Rakim, Tribe, Big Daddy Kane,
Jungle Brothers and others—the precedents they set get wiped out.
If you apply a faulty definition to something young like hip hop, it
suffers. There’s need for a change. Look at the Brits. They’ve
always been good at re-inventing music, while maintaining a respect
for its many influences. M: Why do
you think that is? SW: There’s
always an interesting dialogue between the colonized and the colonizer.
Look at guys like Robert Plant and Eric Clapton, holding the utmost
respect for American blues pioneers, yet it was Plant and Clapton who
influenced a generation of American musicians. M:
Do you analyze or simply observe? SW: The
two go hand in hand. Most have to analyze in order to comment at all.
Nas observes with analysis, and what we hear is a beautiful, narrative
description of what he sees, whether it’s the drug dealer on the
corner or the dude selling Che Guevera T-shirts on the corner. You just
have to internalize it first. M: Does
the whole record industry machine ever seem comical to you? SW: Most
of the artists I have problems with are on Island/American, the label
I call home. It’s those artists that generate returns for the company,
and in turn pay for us to tour. It’s pretty funny. I also think
it’s pretty funny that the Backstreet Boys’ management decided
to put out another group just like them. “We’ve got something
here!” Then along comes ’NSync. That’s pretty comical
too. M: How’s
it been touring with Spearhead? SW: It’s been cool. Spearhead has such a hippie following. I mean, we both attract the bohemian bunch, but I feel guilty that our band is so hard. We’re in North Hampton right now, home of old blue blood in the U.S., and it’s great to get people out of their cottages to hold hands, but I’m really sorry. We’re not Phish. : With Spearhead,
Parkside Jones and K-OS at Club Soda on Saturday, March 30, 7pm, $22.50
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Even
though the secret of New York poet/MC/actor Saul Williams’ success
may lie in his unfaltering and critical dissection of hip hop as we
know it, he certainly hasn’t limited himself to the infinite boundaries
of such a poignant topic. Deftly sidestepping the kudos from completed
projects like his feature film on spoken word, SLAM!, and recordings
like the Elohim EP, Williams removed himself from the spotlight and
changed cities in order to complete Amethyst Rock Star, his ambitious,
and most recent, album on Island/ American. Now on tour with Spearhead,
led by like-minded wordsmith Micheal Franti, Williams brings his live
band of five years for a Montreal show. The Mirror spoke to Williams
over the phone from North Hampton.