Ms. Cousins' Rap

The New York Times article I e-mailed to the class states, “[p]oetry is thriving – on the Internet, in slams and public readings – but for most of us, song lyrics now do the work of modern verse; they organize the truths that rattle around in our skulls.” Poetry does have a smaller audience than music; music is more accessible. There are countless radio stations playing music of every genre; people download tunes and burn CDs and go to concerts; they sing in choirs, at ball games, in elevators, and in the shower. Poetry is not nearly as pervasive in our culture, but I’m not sure I agree that song lyrics really “do the work of modern verse.”

Bob Holman, one of the original members of the Nuyorican Poets Café, is quoted in the article as saying that “poets are now happy to seek legitimacy in the vulgar swagger of rockers rather than the other way around. The alternative is the quiet cloister of the academy.” It’s an interesting point; what choices do poets make? If you’re a poet and you set your words to music, are you still a poet and how does it change your message? If I substitute “rappers” in this quote (instead of “rockers”), it adds another layer of complexity.

Is “Ms. Cousins’ Rap,” by Linda Cousins, a poem, or is it rap, and does that matter? It’s in a collection of poetry, and its title labels it as rap; I assume that rap is a style of music her students, to whom (and presumably for whom) the poem is written, are familiar with. My impression is that this is the title because it’s a form that’s accessible to her students, and maybe they’ll listen “better.” What strikes me about the message of her poem is that it’s a commentary on other rap. She’s criticizing the “too many rhymin’/how to hurt and to kill/let this drop/with the hip-hop.” She says, “the positive is the only/way to go.” I’m wondering how practical this message is.

I think about the music industry, and it’s all about the selling. Violence and sex, or rather misogyny, sell in popular culture. How are these (negative) words, these messages, chosen to be made accessible to the audience? Who is making these decisions? The speaker in Nzinga Regtuiah Chavis’s “enter(f*#@ckin)tained” says,

I disdain how you like hearing Niggro words for shock value
Like a poem with dope words but a whack beat won’t sell
But a whack rap with dope beats sells: real well.

I also think about the writers of the words. Writers are always told to write what they know; that way the writing is “genuine” or “authentic.” If the writers know gangs and violence and killing, then their subjects cannot be “positive.” The speaker in Fredrica Africa Payne’s “conjugation of the verb: to blow” seems to think that her audience could have made other choices and says, “wasn’t like/you couldn’t/if you wanted to/you woulda,” but “the life you had you blew!” Are these writers writing about their own private experience with violence in the world or are they making a statement about the world in general?

Our speaker in “enter(f*#@ckin)tained” goes on to say, “Da positive I caress/but gotta get this sh*t offa my chest.” Other poets we’ve read (Sapphire* and Reg E. Gaines come to mind immediately) write about violence, but clearly aren’t glorifying the violence. Would it be seen as gratuitous then if their poems were turned into rap and sold for popular consumption? Would this be seen as the industry exploiting these poets’ experiences to satisfy public demand or is it doing a service by making their stories more “accessible?”

I realize I’ve asked a lot questions in this post. Questions about accessibility to Art, in whatever form it takes – poetry, music, etc. – raise issues about the relationships among artists, their art, their integrity, and their audience(s), their intermediaries and “patrons.” Exploring these relationships leads me to even more questions. I’m looking forward to our discussion.

(*As a footnote: Sapphire’s book Push is currently on the New York Times Trade Fiction paperback bestseller list and is being made into “a major motion picture.”)

Sheila