Studs Terkel: Using a populist style to tell populist history

My first official introduction to Bronx-born Studs Terkel was in Willie Perdomo’s VONA Poetry class two years back. Willie was constantly challenging us to view the creation of political poetry from as many vectors as possible and kept bringing in material that challenged the notion that there is only one way to write political poetry.

One example was Studs Terkel’s 1961 interview with Gwendolyn Brooks that was reprinted in Conversations with Gwendolyn Brooks. Studs’ admiration for Brooks is very present throughout the interview but more than anything, I really dig how he keeps asking her to read more poems, reads a few of her poems himself (“May I try reading this?”), and then brings in an outside recording of “Sir Patrick Spence” to broaden their conversation on the ballad form.

Man, I am so feelin’ this interview and Turkel’s reverence for the office of “poet,” how he feels it elevates and chronicles the people. Which is the cruz of Willie’s discussion: How do you stay true to your craft but still relate to those who you are writing about?

Gwendolyn Brooks’ response:

By the time I began to write Annie Allen I was very much impressed with the effectiveness of technique, and I wanted to write poetry that was honed to the last degree it could be. … I no longer feel that this is the proper attitude to have when you sit down to write poetry, but that’s how I felt then… I feel that my poems should be written more in the mood that I had when I wrote A Street in Bronzeville. I was just interested in putting people down on paper and, although it’s rougher than Anne Allen, I feel there’s more humanity in it.

That quest for “more humanity” seems to be one that Terkel also shared in. His list of oral histories is not only impressive but also takes an approach that honors the traditions of the griot while simultaneously predating the current trend of user-generated content that is driving Web 2.0 to replace the network news and local papers.

It’s looking like I’m going to have a lot of Studs Terkel to catch up on but this appraisal from the NY Times and this YouTube from UCTV seem like two great places to start.

He Gave Voice to Many, Among Them Himself
By Edward Rothstein

Mr. Terkel anticipated the academic movement of recent decades to tell history from below — not from the perspective of the makers of history but from the perspective of those who have been shaped by it. He once said he was interested in the masons who might have built the Chinese Wall, or the cooks in Caesar’s army. That is also one of oral history’s implicit ambitions: using a populist style to tell populist history. The oral historian does little more than hold up a mirror, just making sure the glass is clean. The practice claims to be self-effacing and world-revealing. How can a collection of interviews be anything else?

But if you look closely at these oral histories, you can never forget who has shaped them and to what end.

Full article can be found here.

Conversations with History: Studs Terkel

Books I Read in October

[done in the steelo of javier huerta]

Leaves of Grass. Walt Whitman (Author) and Malcolm Cowley (Introduction)
Spider-Man: One More Day, J. Michael Straczynski (Author), Stan Lee (Afterword), Joe Quesada (Illustrator)
The Roots Of A Thousand Embraces, Juan Felipe Herrera
Blood Dazzler, Patricia Smith
Unfortunately, It Was Paradise: Selected Poems, Mahmoud Darwish
The All-Union Day of the Shock Worker, Edwin Torres

Día De Los Muertos: Pedro Pietri


The House Pedro Pietri built
Originally uploaded by geminipoet

[you still have me trippin, pedro pietri. i am sure you are having a fun day today, fuckin with the saints and preachin to the demonios. en paz (y poesia) descanse, querido reverendo.]

Telephone Booth #898½

if you are
unable to erase it
it means that you
have not written down
anything to erase
& don’t have to fear
being quoted just
when you are about
to contradict what
you didn’t write down

© Pedro Pietri

Remix: Welcome to the Terrordome

My mind is still trippin from last night’s wonderful anthology reading/philosophical lecture/phonological processing that went down last night at City Lights with DJ Spooky. More to come later as I am still absorbing the 411, and seeing how it applies to my own poetics distribution theories. For a great synopsis of last night, you can check Barb’s write up: What DJ Spooky, That Subliminal Kid Taught Me.

But for now, on this night of scary monsters and surprise gifts, open your ears to Pharoahe Monch’s cover of the hip-hop classic: Welcome to the Terrordome.

Originally written in 1989, the first year of George H.W. Bush’s presidency, it still stands as one of the most vatic lyrical compositions in the history of hip-hop consciousness. Monch’s version stays true to the cadence and commanding tenor of Chuck D’s vocals but updates the lyrics and the images in the accompanying video to match the reality and after-effects of 2007, the penultimate year of George W. Bush’s presidency. Or, to put it in hip-hop terms, What goes around comes back around again.//S.O.S., is you wit me?

Anticipating: breaking poems by Suheir Hammad

It’s been a great month of poetry books and reading events for me with different voices and styles all coming together to help me try to make more sense out of my own poetics. Surprisingly, two roads that have been intersecting quite a bit is the path between hip-hop lit and political poetry.

For starters, I think all hip-hop is political. It’s born of a desire to prove that a culture can emerge from near-nothingness and leave behind a standing testament to celebrate that survival. And, since I can never find an authoritative dictionary meaning for the term poetry, I will say that is one of my personal definitions for poetry as well. I’ll also add that all the poems I am attracted to are political.

In logic terms, if hip-hop is to political what political is to poetry, then hip-hop is poetry. At least it is for me.

The only problem is that a logic equation doesn’t always hold water in the real world; sometimes it only works out in theory, which isn’t good enough. For art to succeed, for poems to be effective, they have to work in practice as well as concept.

This brings me back to the VONA Faculty Reading this past July and my first introduction to Suheir Hammad’s breaking poems. From the get go, these poems resonated with familiar pull and push of the classic hip-hop break, the spot in the song the DJ knows will get the crowd even more amped and up for the party. Suheir started off with “break is this” and images of myrrh and smoke, the intermingling of the holy spice with the clearing of rubble, a slow prayer that reminds the listener of a past horror (the pull) and the hope for more as her speaker’s people enacts the “we” and “still looking for our.”

Since I’m going by my notes from the night, I’m not sure if the speaker is looking for what is “ours” or for more “hours” but that quick wordplay, the cutting and scratching of language, was repeated deftly throughout Suheir’s reading.

The hip-hop break was present again in another poem where “someone is drumming//to accompany the dead” as the rhythms and beats we know from the dance club and blaring car speakers are transformed into measured intonation and consistent meter in Suheir’s breaking poems set.

Then again, these poems don’t all take place in the familiar Bronx of my youth, or Downtown Oakland of my present, they are happening in the present of the speaker’s Palestine. Where the break is not just a musical/poetic concept but the daily real. Suheir’s last poem brought that alive in “break (clustered)” where the shape of the spoken poem took the form of a slow ticking bomb, as it started with an introspective deliverance, as the speaker contemplates on where the break will happen next. “Whose son will it be?” “We mourn women complicated.” This reflective mood is shattered as the language becomes more pointed, the lines more jagged, and the tension builds out to a point even past the poem (“Language can’t math me”) and then settles with the internal image (“One woman//One woman//One woman gives birth”) that is ready to set the break off again and “harvest witness.”

Barb has already started reading breaking poems and is citing some of the bombardment and brokenness I was feeling from the live reading. She is also seeing another layer of code-switching that I didn’t pick up from Suheir’s set. And that’s all good. A reading shouldn’t be the whole book, it can never be since it is only the aural aspect of the poem, but a reading should be about possibility, excitement, and daring. Can the text match the sound? Can a fantastic reader deliver a fantastic book? Can the two aspects of poetry, the orature and the literature, fight to maintain their own space in the speaker’s message?

Anticipating that the answer to all those questions will be a resounding Yes I can’t wait to get a read at Suheir Hammad’s new book and to try to follow along as her book release party is webcast live from the Bowery Poetry Club tomorrow.

More breaking poems:
• Video: Suheir reads “break word”