Def Poetry is coming back! The sixth season of this underrated cable TV show begins midnight Friday, featuring a guest appearance by DMX.
As my longtime readers now, I think Def Poetry is well worth watching, not to mention worth reviewing. It’s the only television series featuring original poetry on any major TV outlet, period. The show isn’t perfect, and can sometimes drag down into predictable spoken-word ruts. But there are always at least a couple of memorable performances during each half hour show, and you never know who’ll show up to read a poem. Past performers have included Sharon Olds, Alicia Keys, Shappy from the Bowery Poetry Club and the TV debut, long before “Golddigger”, of Kanye West.
I got a chance to meet Def Poetry mastermind Danny Simmons at a Brooklyn book festival this summer, and he was nice enough to invite me to a taping for one of this season’s shows. I think I’ll get in touch and see if I can interview him on LitKicks sometime soon.
I need some new literary hiphop thrills, because neither the new Jay-Z or the new Nas is pleasing me very much. But at least there’s the White Rapper Show, in my opinion the best and funniest new reality show we’ve had in years. Literary? Hell, yeah — the key challenge in the show involves composing spontaneous verse and reciting it from memory, usually based on a topic chosen by the show’s host, MC Serch of 3rd Bass. If you’ve ever tried this, you know it’s harder than it looks.
The inability to flow tripped up the show’s best contestant, Persia of Far Rockaway, Queens, in this week’s episode. She looked like a favorite to win the whole thing, and Serch clearly liked her best (I did too). But when it came time to stand and rhyme without paper, she couldn’t do it. This is extra ironic because Persia’s nemesis is Jon Brown, the dopey-looking “king of the burbs”, who can’t write anywhere near as well as Persia. But when it’s time to flow he turns into Busta Rhymes, and that’s why he’s still on the show and Persia is gone.
Why is it so important to be able to rap or recite from memory? Well, that’s the wrong question, because when you’re flowing you’re not going from memory at all. The purest freestyle comes when you feel comfortable enough to actually compose new verses in real time. If you can’t hit that zone, reciting from memory is second best. But to “flow” is to be in a state of grace, as every rapper knows, as Jack Kerouac and James Joyce knew too.
Maybe this is why the Beastie Boys — those other white rappers extraordinaire — used to open every concert with this chant:
Let it flow
Let yourself go
Slow and low
That is the tempo