10
mar

Saul Williams, all ways

Revu dimanche dernier l'incroyable Sage Poète de la Rue Saul Williams, revu après 15 ans. Là, c'était le prix des Paroles Urbaines, mais c'était aussi et surtout Saul Williams. Le basquiat du Spoken Word...

Saul Williams dérive sur les origines, varie sur les thèmes du monde et se lie aux gens avec mots et mains.
Un incroyable bonhomme, que mon fils a fait rire et qui a fait rire mon fils. Bon signe, dis-je en bonne mère fière.

Saul touche à tout car c'est dans le monde qu'il vit pas dans un monde. Je suis admirative de sa langue, de son corps (céleste et présent), de son regard (et de ses yeux, j'avoue).

Un entretien très vif, ici.

 

muse-hicmuse-hicmuse-hic

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quelques mots?

("ohm" is chanted in long drawn out syllables throughout the song)

[Saul Williams]
through meditation I program my heart
to beat breakbeats and hum basslines on exhalation
*Saul beatboxes* "ohm"
I burn seven day candles that melt
into twelve inch circles on my mantle
and spin funk like myrrh
*Saul beatboxes* "ohm"
and I can fade worlds in and out with my mixing patterns
letting the Earth spin as I blend in Saturn
niggaz be like spinning windmills, braiding hair
locking, popping, as the sonic force
of the soul keeps the planets rocking
the beat don't stop when, soulless matter blows
into the cosmos, trying to be stars
the beat don't stop when, Earth sends out satellites
to spy on Saturnites and control Mars
cause niggaz got a peace treaty with Martians
and we be keepin em up to date with sacred gibberish
like "sho' nuff" and "it's on"
the beat goes on, the beat goes on, the beat goes "ohm"

and I roam through the streets of downtown Venus
trying to auction off monuments of Osiris' severed penis
but they don't want no penis in Venus
for androgynous cosmology sets their spirits free
and they neither men nor women be
but they be down with a billion niggaz who have yet to see
that interplanetary truth is androgynous
and they be sending us shoutouts through shooting stars
and niggaz be like, "Whattup?" and talking Mars
cause we are so-lar and regardless of how far we roam from home
the universe remains our center, like "ohm"

I am no Earthling, I drink moonshine on Mars
and mistake meteors for stars cause I can't hold my liquor
but I can hold my breath and ascend like wind to the black hole
and play galaxaphones on the fire escapes of your soul
blowing tunes through lunar wombs, impregnating stars
giving birth to suns, that darken the skins that skin our drums
and we be beating infinity over sacred hums
spinning funk like myrrh until Jesus comes
and Jesus comes everytime we drum
and the moon drips blood and eclipses the sun
and out of darkness comes a *Saul beatboxes*
and out of darkness comes a *Saul beatboxes*
and out of darkness comes the...

*µ*µ*µ

I don't know whether to laugh or cry
and I don't know whether to live or die
I kept my love for her locked deep inside
it cuts like a knife
she's out of my life
out of my life, out of my hair
out of my mind, there's no love in there
I move on, move on

dear God, I wasn't breast fed
and most of my conversations with men seem to revolve around music
I'm no musician but the pain has been instrumental
my sense finally tune the instruments of - of - of
of being lonely, of being lost, of being loved, of being human
man I could use a metaphor but I can't get beyond this shit
I could use someone to talk to
but most of my conversations with men seem to revolve around music

I am a poet who composes what the world proses
and proses what the world composes

I am a poet who composes what the world proses
and proses what the world composes

damned indescion and cursed pride
I kept my love for her locked deep inside
and I don't know what to do
to get it through to you
get out of my life tonight
get out of my life
out of my life, out of my hair
out of my mind, 'cause no lovin' fair
I move on, move on

she had nothing but time on her hands
silver rings, turquoise stones and purple nails
I rub my thumb across her palm
a featherbed where slept a psalm
yay though I walked, I used to fly, and now we dance
I watch my toenails blacken and walk a deadened trance
'til she woke me with the knife edge of her glance
I have the scars to prove the clock strikes with her hands

and I don't know what to do
to get it through to you
and I don't know what to do
to get it through
out of my life, out of my hair
out of my mind, 'cause no lovin' fair
I move on, move on, I move on

*µ*µ*µ

Now I wasn't raised at gunpoint
and I've read too many books
to distract me from the mirror
when unhappy with my looks
and I ain't got proper diction
for the makings of a thug
though I grew up in the ghetto
and my niggers all sold drugs,
and though that may validate me
for a spot on MTV
and give me all the airplay
that my bank account would need,
I was hoping to invest in
a lesson that I learned
I thought this fool had jumped me
just because it was my turn.
I went to an open space
because I knew he wouldn't do it
if somebody there could see him
or somebody else might prove it,
and maybe in your eyes
it may seem I got punked out
because I walked in their own path
and then went and changed my route.
But that open-ness exposed me
to a truth I couldn't find
in the clenched fists of my ego
or the confines of my mind
or the hip-ness of my swagger,
or the swagger of my step,
the scowl of my grimace,
or the mean-ness of my rap.
Because we represent a truth son,
that changes by the hour,
and when you open to it,
for nobility is power,
in that shifting form you'll find a truth that doesn't change
and that truth is living proof of the fact that God is strange?

Talk to strangers
when the family fails and friends led you astray
and Buddah laughs and Jesus weeps and turns out God is gay.
As angels in disguise love can come in many forms,
the hallways of your projects or the fat girl in your dorm,
and when you finally take the time to see what they're about
perhaps you find they're lonely or their wisdom trips you out.

Maybe you'll find the cycles end
right back where you began,
but come this time around
you'll have someone to hold your hand,
who prays for you who is there for you
who sends you love and light,
exposes you to parts of you
that you once tried to fight.
And come this time around
you choose to walk a different path,
you'll embrace what you turned away
and cry at what you laughed,
because that's the only way
we're going to make it through this storm,
where ignorance is common sense
and senseless is the norm.
Infact we're high above the truth
and that you never touch,
and stolen goods are overpriced
and freedom costs too much,
and no-one seems to recognise
the symbols come to life,
the bitten apple on the screen
and Jesus had a wife,
and she was his Messiah
like that stranger may be yours,
who holds a subtle knife
that carves through worlds
like magic doors,
and that's what I've been looking for,
the bridge from then to now,
just watching B.E.T like what the fuck son,
this is foul
But that's where [Boston?] represents
this fear that we live in,
the world is not a flat screen
I ain't trying to fit in.
But this ain't for the underground
this here is for the sun.
A seed a stranger gave to me
and planted on my tongue.
And when I look at you,
I know I'm not the only one.
As a great man once said,
there's nothing more powerful
than an idea
who's time
has come

 
 
 
 
et pour les images et les sons, allez youtuber.

 

21:11 10/03/2013 | Lien permanent | Tags : muse-hic |  Facebook

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