[Paul Lake]

Here's a link to an excellent new essay on poetry by Dana Gioia, from the Hudson Review.

http://www.poems.com/essagioi.htm

[Paul Lake]

I should add that Dana mentions Eratosphere in his discussion of new trends in contemporary poetry.

[Chris Childers]

Thanks very much for posting that. I'm one of those who tends to dismiss the new "Poetry Slam" culture without even really knowing anything about it, in spite of the little niggling voice in the back of my mind that keeps bringing up Homer, Sappho, Pindar, etc.. I'm also glad he seems to think poetry *readings* are so important; I look forward to the time when I'll get to do a lot of readings at a lot of different places. I never even knew that people stopped caring about how the language sounded, I guess since Yeats' dictum about composing for the ear has always made so much sense to me. That was strangely reassuring; I'm very glad I read it.

And dammit, when am I going to start subscribing to literary journals? I need to get off my ass and address myself to that old-fangled method of communication, the letter. Why can't we subscribe to these things over the internet? Dusty old traditionalists.

[This message has been edited by Chris Childers (edited July 05, 2003).]

[Roger Slater]

Very interesting article.

I'm not sure why Gioia doesn't include non-rap popular songs, especially folk and folk-rock and blues and country songs, as part of the "popular poetry" he discusses. I think it's obvious that some of the best poetry around is in song lyrics, as we've discussed here from time to time. Dylan, of course, but also Paul Simon, Bob Marley, Lennon & McCartney, Ira Gerschwin, Cole Porter, and probably dozens of other songwriters. Gioia's point could be made in terms of these artists, too. Isn't it odd that nothing like a "free verse" movement ever overtook the world of songwriting?

I don't have it in front of me, but today's paper quotes Seamus Heaney making some very complimentary remarks about Eminem's abilities with language.

[eaf]

Oh yeah, this is Eminem baby, back up in that motherfucking ass
One time for your mother fucking mind, we represent the 313
You know what I'm saying?, cause they don't know shit about this
For the 9-6

[Verse 1:]
Ayo, my pen and paper cause a chain reaction
To get your brain relaxin, cause they be actin maniac in action
A brainiac in fact son, you mainly lack attraction
You looking zany whack with just a fraction of my tracks spun
My rhyming skills got you climbing hills
I travel through your mind until you spine like siren drills
I'm sliming grills of roaches, with sprayed on disinfectants
With some ex rappers till their spinal column disconnects
We disinfect then check the monologue, turn your system up
Twist them up, and indulge in the marijuana smoke
This is the season for noise pollution contamination
Examination of more cartoons than animation
My lamination of narration
Hit's a snare and bass of track fucked up rapper interrogation
When I declare invasion, there ain't no time to be stare and gazing
I turn the stage into a barren wasteland...
I'm Infinite

[Chorus:]
You heard of hell well I was sent from it
I went to it's surface and sentenced for murdering instruments
Now I'm trying to repent from it
But when I hear the beat I'm tempted to make another attempt at it...
I'm Infinite

[Verse 2:]
Bust it, I let the beat commence so I can beat the sense of your elite defense
I got to meet the fence fruit was stompin at your feet to rinse
I greet intensive ladies, I spoil all your fans
I foil plans and leave fluids leaking like oil bands
My coil hands around this microphone lethal
One thought in my cerebral is deeper then a Jeep full of people
MC's are feeble, I came to cause some pandemonium
Battle a band of phony MC's and stand the only one
Imitator, Intimidator, Stimulator, Simulator of data, Eliminator
There's never been a greater since the burial of Jesus
Fuck around and catch all of the venereal diseases
My thesis will smash a stereo to pieces
My accapella releases plastic masterpieces through telekinesis
And eases you mentally, gently, sentimentally, instrumentally
With entity, dementedly meant to be Infinite

[Chorus:]
You heard of hell well I was sent from it
I went to it's surface and sentenced for murdering instruments
Now I'm trying to repent from it
But when I hear the beat I'm tempted to make another attempt at it...
I'm Infinite

[Verse 3:]
Man I got evidence I'm never dense and I been clever ever since
My residence was hesitant to do some shit that represents the M-O
So I'm assuming all responsibility
Cause there's a monster will in me that always wants to kill MC's
Mic messaler, slamming like a wrestler
Here to make a mess of a lyric smuggling embezzler
No one is speacialer, My skill is intergalactical
I get cynical at a fool then I send a crew back to school
I never packed a tool or acted cool, it wasn't practical
I'd rather led a tactful, tractical, track for your fancy
In fact I can't see, or can't imagine
A man who ain't a lover of beats or a fan of scratching
This is for my family, the kid who had a cameo on my last jam
Plus the man who never had a plan B
Be all you can be, cause once you make an instant hit
I'm tense to be tempted when I see the sins my friends commit...
I'm Infinite

[Chorus:]
You heard of hell well I was sent from it
I went to it's surface and sentenced for murdering instruments
Now I'm trying to repent from it
But when I hear the beat I'm tempted to make another attempt at it...
I'm Infinite
You heard of hell well I was sent from it
I went to it's surface and sentenced for murdering instruments
Now I'm trying to repent from it
But when I hear the beat I'm tempted to make another attempt at it...
I'm Infinite

[eaf]

Well, I'm sorry... it appears that I may have inadvertently killed this thread by posting that song by Eminem. I found the Gioia essay interesting, though I echo Roger's curiosity as to why rappers get the label as poets when there are lots of other musicians in different genres doing similar things... and they've been doing it a lot longer than rappers. It all seems like a stretch to me. Comparing rap to poetry is like comparing graffiti to painting. Rap barely even qualifies as music, much less poetry, and the fact that the youth of America is reciting vapid lyrics doesn't make me jump for joy and pronounce the return of poetry.

[Sharon Passmore]

Sorry but, some graffiti is painting. Also, the article explained in detail why - you just can't get it by reading this in print. The entire meter is missing in print.

Anyway, this got me thinking that we can enjoy some oral poetry here at Erato too, if we want. We can attach any type of file we want to and I think, though I haven't tried it, that sound files would work. The only problem I can see is that maybe they may be too big.

------------------
Sharon P.
http://get-me.to/chinaberries

[eaf]

Ugh. I've rewritten this post about five times and I give up.

[Sharon Passmore]

There's no law that says we have to agree, is there?

[eaf]

This is true. But we're not really arguing the same thing. I didn't say that there are SOME graffiti out there that could be considered artistic (and, since they're made with paint, let's call them paintings) -- however, on the whole, graffiti isn't a new art form, or a branch of painting. To me, it more closely resembles vandalism than painting, or art. I'm not going to argue the exceptions.

Now, that's a generalization of graffiti. Which is basically what I'm saying about rap, too. Rap is music. It follows a beat. It has syncopation. I'm glad Gioia "discovered" that some music has qualities that might be considered poetic. This isn't a new viewpoint. What do we call the words in a song? Lyrics? Hmmm. That word sure sounds familiar, and none too new.

In any case, Gioia's heralding of a new oral tradition is a bit ridiculous. Perhaps what he should be saying is that there's a new VISUAL tradition. It's called the web, and most of us don't browse with headphones on, nor do we read emails and crank the speakers up. Print isn't dead, it's just moved.

I'm just a bit skeptical about that essay, that's all.