spoken word. witchy words aritz galarraga
I oriol clavera Experts in the field say that poetry began with sounds, with the cadence of sounds, with a sort of melody. This is because song soothes pain and brings the group together. The first poetry, according to those experts, was music and meaning, sound and rhythm, expression and cadence. The written word came later and much, much later came books, the building blocks of a book, a conversation between poems. As with Katulore, for instance. And though it has probably never really totally disappeared, lately poetry, or at least a distinct kind of poetry, has gone back to the oral tradition, back to the beginning.
It is not unique; let us not forget rap, hip-hop, but Spoken Word as it is called, is the contemporary expression of oral poetry. The others we have mentioned are accompanied by melody or a rhythm. Spoken Word, on the other hand, is a naked act, one person, alone, with no musical backing, in front of an audience, with nothing but words, as if they were conversing, but in a different way. Between the storyteller and declamation, Spoken Word is spoken poetry. It started in the 80s, dramatised poetry, playful, live literature, accompanied by slam poetry, a challenge, a contest of spoken poetry.
Quite a few figures from the world stage recently got together in Barcelona at the Kosmopolis Literature Festival that takes place once every few years. D’bi.young Anitafrika, Malika Ndlovu and three young British hopes: Laura Dockrill, Francesca Beard, Chris “Ventriloquist” Redmond. And to finish, a slam poetry competition, and exhibition with Bob Holman and Daniel Orviz on stage. But we’ll come back to slam another time. We are here to talk about Spoken Word.
D’bi.Young Anitafrika’s session stood out above the rest, it even eclipsed the others with the Jamaican-Canadian poetess breathing strength, rhythm and African roots into her work. She started in Catalan, slowly, and started blowing up a full steam when she moved into English, as if hers words were saliva, on the attack, revindication: “Our ancestors were committed / to never giving up”. She mentioned Assata Shakur, Amilcar Cabral, Frantz Fanon, Steve Biko, Sojourner Truth, Stokely Carmichael: “I want to see them / I want to smell them / I want to touch them”, a non-stop declaration to fight on the side of the oppressed black population.
Malika Ndlovuk gave a very different type of recital, reposed, dressed up in an esoteric setting. The South African was more like a storyteller, like the guru of a strange religion. All mysticism, smoke and karma. Ideal for a quick nap. And the British should be mentioned before we finish, plenty of phlegm but nice and easy as you go, each one in their own particular style, but each one live, lasting. They didn’t have the belly-fire of D’bi.young but they did show that Great Britain is definitely on the Spoken Word map. Laura Dockrill, for instance, flows, vomits poetry, no stopping to breathe, proving that if indeed it had ever left, the spoken word has been returned to literature. In two words, Spoken Word.
It is not unique; let us not forget rap, hip-hop, but Spoken Word as it is called, is the contemporary expression of oral poetry. The others we have mentioned are accompanied by melody or a rhythm. Spoken Word, on the other hand, is a naked act, one person, alone, with no musical backing, in front of an audience, with nothing but words, as if they were conversing, but in a different way. Between the storyteller and declamation, Spoken Word is spoken poetry. It started in the 80s, dramatised poetry, playful, live literature, accompanied by slam poetry, a challenge, a contest of spoken poetry.
Quite a few figures from the world stage recently got together in Barcelona at the Kosmopolis Literature Festival that takes place once every few years. D’bi.young Anitafrika, Malika Ndlovu and three young British hopes: Laura Dockrill, Francesca Beard, Chris “Ventriloquist” Redmond. And to finish, a slam poetry competition, and exhibition with Bob Holman and Daniel Orviz on stage. But we’ll come back to slam another time. We are here to talk about Spoken Word.
D’bi.Young Anitafrika’s session stood out above the rest, it even eclipsed the others with the Jamaican-Canadian poetess breathing strength, rhythm and African roots into her work. She started in Catalan, slowly, and started blowing up a full steam when she moved into English, as if hers words were saliva, on the attack, revindication: “Our ancestors were committed / to never giving up”. She mentioned Assata Shakur, Amilcar Cabral, Frantz Fanon, Steve Biko, Sojourner Truth, Stokely Carmichael: “I want to see them / I want to smell them / I want to touch them”, a non-stop declaration to fight on the side of the oppressed black population.
Malika Ndlovuk gave a very different type of recital, reposed, dressed up in an esoteric setting. The South African was more like a storyteller, like the guru of a strange religion. All mysticism, smoke and karma. Ideal for a quick nap. And the British should be mentioned before we finish, plenty of phlegm but nice and easy as you go, each one in their own particular style, but each one live, lasting. They didn’t have the belly-fire of D’bi.young but they did show that Great Britain is definitely on the Spoken Word map. Laura Dockrill, for instance, flows, vomits poetry, no stopping to breathe, proving that if indeed it had ever left, the spoken word has been returned to literature. In two words, Spoken Word.
