Thursday, June 18, 2009
For those of you who think the grass is always green on the other side, heres a hole in my wooden fence, take a peak. . .
This is a blog from a guy that attended my show in Saint Louis:
Allow me to start by saying that the Future, the Michigan based poet, is not wack. Nothing that I’ll say in this blog will change the non-wack view people may have of him. Surely, a few words won’t dim his, umm, future.
Let’s start with the positives. He’s a handsome guy. He’d tell you as much during his set. He’s a clever punch line artist. He’s engaging when he spits his verses. His locks looked manicured. He has a cool looking CD (I didn’t get around to buying one). He knows his Nas albums, which is a plus for those who dig Nas. It seemed like most sistas liked him or at least liked looking at him. Did I mention that he’s a handsome guy?
I had a chance to check out Future at Legacy Café during SWG last Friday. I wanted to support the brotha because he’s my friend on MySpace…but really, because I like to hear spoken word artists do their thing. I mean, with a name like Future, I was sure his flow would be unique and his lines would be, umm, futuristic; ergo, original. Ironically, Future’s flow is very much a reflection of the current style of spoken word (rap-esque with sermonic tendencies), and cliché at that. By reflection, I mean that it only reflects the light of other poets who may possess the light that Future reflects, like a star or a moon would with the sun. I don’t want to speculate on whose light Future is reflecting, so I won’t.
Beyond his originality-challenged flow, his transition between poems needs scripting. It was like hearing someone talk on the phone when you’re waiting for the point. After a while, you get distracted by TV or paint drying and just want to hang up. Some folks did hang up; by leaving. For instance, before dropping his last poem, Future gave a five minute introduction about his looks and about some other self-absorbed ish.
As for the content, one piece sticks out in my mind. It was an anti-intellectual rant about “deep” poets whose lines are littered with jargon and obscure references. I don’t recall if he said this in the poem but he wanted the crowd to “get” one of his punch lines that may have floated over their heads. I don’t know if they did because I had to get off the phone.
If you want to see this on the original site (to ensure i haven't embellished this blog in anyway) copy and paste the link below:
please send your HONEST thoughts and opinions ;-)