The Dayton Finale: R&B...the stuff songs are made of.

This is the stuff that good rhythm and blues songs are made of.  Remember back when you were a kid and you would sing along to a host of songs that you LOVED but didn’t have the slightest idea of what they meant.  The one that comes to mind for me first is Karyn White’s “Superwoman.”  Me and my friend Shakira (who ironically is the person who introduced me to poetry) used to sing that song at the top of our lungs, word for word, but it wasn’t until I found myself as a 24 year old young woman attempting to be the world’s best superwoman that I finally understood those lyrics.  Good lyrical content comes from experience.  It comes from living, from life and from observation.  But the best always come from experience.  As spoken word artists, part of our culture is writing and performing a poem that is for lack of better word, braggadocios.  Almost like rappers but not really.  Rappers all claim to be the greatest that ever did it.  Poets just write the hype around them so well that people buy into it.  We do poems about how our poems come from the center of the universe’s baby daughter or how when we spit, our voices reverb will touch soles and souls of people as far and wide as the lost and forgotten island that Columbus should have trekking for if he wanted to “discover” something.  Yeah….thats us. 

And this story, this experience is the stuff R&B is made of. 

As I stood from the wobbly stool I tried to catch my breath on, the MC, who looked a lot like Cedric the Entertainer, was introducing me as a World Renowned Poet who has performed alongside side Def Poets.  That sounded great but I still trying to surpress my anxiety.  Given enough time, I could have forseen a panic attack where I would be sitting someone on the side with an elevated heart rate and sweating the sweat of a marathon.  But now, there was nothing left to do but stuff all these wild emotions inside of a box and walk out on that stage with confidence.  So when he said “give it up for januarieYork”, that’s exactly what I did.  I was on my own on this one.  I knew Anitra would not be there for most, if any, of the performance because she was parking.  Like I said, although this has taken place in three blogs, this whole thing happened a lot quicker than the word count will have you believing.  I walked out to the mic to one of those “who is this chick” rounds of applause.  I had switched my new piece “Parked Cars” out for my default piece “Poem Cry” because I knew that like the back of my hand and although I knew P.C., there was no time for mess ups at this point.  Anything negative would make me look bad and would be counterproductive to the buzz around my name I was hoping to create.  I was hoping to prove myself to my contact that I deserved to be here and she made no mistake in inviting me. 

So my line up was: Poem Cry, which if I had more than a split second to rethink, I might have thrown Brownstone in Brooklyn in its place, The Definition and The Architect (beatboxing poem).  I was confident in each of the poems I picked and I opened with Poem Cry as an introductory.  I tried to spit it as hard as I did at IMA but I couldn’t because I hadn’t warmed up to the stage and I hadn’t planned on doing this piece.  But I got thru it and the audience seemed pleased.  The next two poems went off with no problem and for the record, I messed up in both Poem Cry & The Architect.  Forgot a couple lines out of PC, and got turned around with some of the final lines in The Architect, but the conversation in my head went something like “BITCH KEEP GOING”!!!! …..so I did.  I reckon that no one noticed I messed up because I didn’t miss a beat or a line. 

By the end of performance, I walked away to a more hype applause and walked passed my contact and heard her say something to the nature of me killing it!!! I don’t know exactly what she really said, but that’s what it sounded like and that’s what I’m rolling with.  I just leaned in and hugged her.  

During the intermission, which followed me, I greeted by several people who wanted share how much they appreciated my work or loved what they heard.  I gave out my new business cards that arrived just in time for this show, talked and laughed and as I was talking to one person, Anitra walked in, having missed my whole set due to parking.  She told me later that when she got to the third floor, people were standing at the cd table talking about me in a great way.  My job was done.  All that stress, all the days leading up to it, all the excitement, worry, etc etc was done.  This turned into the most stressful trip I have had in regards to featuring.  But it made it full circle.  Could I have done better.  Hell yeah!! It by far was no IMA performance and my performance of The Architect probably paled in comparison to when I did it at Midtown a couple of Sundays ago, but I was proud.  I did just what I wanted to do.  I touched people that night, even if it wasn’t each and every one of them.  They were a relaxed crowd, so to speak and at after The Definition, I few were on their feet.  For me!!!!! For MY words.  That feeling itself is so astonishing and amazing!!!

I sold a few cds, shook some hands, took some pictures and got the chance to speak to Shihan.  I didn’t do a lot of picture taking with my camera that night because I just wasn’t in the mood, but I did take a pic with a Def Poet. 

We were UBER ready to get back to the crib.  They all went to dinner after the show but as proud of myself as I was for handling the pressure like a G (lol), I wasn’t in the mood to be a stranger.  I had a funeral the next morning, of which I winded up missing, and I was SLEEEEEPY!!!!!!  We hit the road home.

This is the stuff life is made up.  Ups and downs that don’t make or break you.  They just help to continue you.  By the second poem, I had found some comfort in my zone and delivered my pieces with ease and relaxed posture.  It had become second nature and my heartbeat stabilized again.    And still, despite that, I felt bad for being so late.  I was still embarrassed.  I heard someone else talking about being stuck in traffic on the hwy as well, so that made me feel better.   The people backstage were all really nice and hospitable.  Nothing like those who were walking the streets with attitudes and pototo chips on shoulders.  Shihan complimented me on a great show and let me know he came back into the theater just in time to hear my poems. 

Then yesterday I received a phone call.  It was from someone in Dayton, a fellow artist whom I traded cd’s with, who called just to tell me how much she loved my cd !!! That was the best.  That just iced the cake.  It may have fallen in the middle but it was still fluffy, delicious and edible.  This is the stuff R&B must be made of.

“I thought I lost my footing and became rythmless.

Then my lack of balance forced me into the blues.

But out of the ashes comes the rainbowed phoenix.

Performing still with grace and using life as her muse.”

jY