The rhythm of their words results in powerful works

The diverse cast of 'Def Poetry Jam' stirs passions with its riffs on subjects including love, family and identity.

By Daryl H. Miller - LA Times

October 25 2003 -- Shakespeare knew it. So did Walt Whitman. And Emily Dickinson understood. Young people across America know too: Words are filled with music, emotion, power. They can become songs, sermons, incantations.

So voices have risen from New York, Los Angeles, Atlanta and even Oklahoma City — the voices of young people expressing anger, declaring pride, calling for action or just celebrating.

The gut-punching, rib-tickling, soul-stirring potential of their words is showcased in "Russell Simmons Def Poetry Jam," being presented at the Wadsworth Theatre through Sunday after a Broadway engagement that earned a Tony Award for special theatrical event.

The eight young men and women on the bill are America personified — the dynamic fusion of ethnicities, backgrounds and beliefs that characterizes the present day. The performers are stars of poetry slams, or competitions, who write and perform their work not to a musical beat, like rap, but in the unaccompanied cadences of hip-hop. They've been drawn together by founding Def Jam Records impresario Simmons, and their work has been beautifully shaped and thrillingly paced by television and stage director Stan Lathan.

The poems are as individual as the poets.

Black Ice doesn't mince words as he demands to know, "When you look at my brothas / What's ya' first impression? / Does the sight of us / leave you guessin', / or do you understand the stressing?"

Mayda Del Valle spins words into the rhythms of Latin music as she relives the wonder of watching her mother at work in the kitchen. "Mami's making mambo," she all but sings. "No meat in the freezer / poof / Spam and corned beef in a can are / transformed into virtual filet mignon." Tying yesterday to today, she adds: "It was there in my mother's kitchen that / I learned more / than how to cook. / It is where / I learned the essence of rhythm and power."

Poetry's comic potential is well displayed in the work of Poetri, a sad-sack, teddy bear of a man who speaks to growling stomachs everywhere when he says: "All I want to know is / Where did Krispy Kreme donuts come from? / What sick man invented this?"

The poets appear individually and sometimes in groups on a stage simply set with sleek, minimalist representations of the doorways and stoops where young people might gather in a big-city neighborhood — designed by Bruce Ryan. Paul Tazewell dresses the cast in sports jerseys, jeans, leather bustiers and silk skirts, as well as some of Simmons' Phat Farm-label hip-hop wear. Between the two- and three-minute poems, DJ Tendaji spins snippets of mood-setting music.

The works are subtly grouped by theme. There are poems that celebrate cultural and personal identity. There are poems that pay tribute to parents and cultural figures. There are funny, touching and painful words about love. And there are outspoken comments about politics and power structures.

In a smooth yet forceful flow of words, the enchanting Suheir Hammad tells would-be suitors: "Don't wanna be your exotic… Don't build around me / your fetish fantasy your / lustful profanity to / cage me in clip my wings."

Beau Sia, a pint-sized powerhouse in shocking shades of pink and green, rages against the stereotypes heaped upon Asian men. Putting the lie to it all, he struts around the stage, flexing his arms and growling: "I'm the mentally buff Chinese Hulk Hogan / disciplined, determined / and deadly."

Georgia Me and Bassey Ikpi celebrate women, men and God, and Lemon weaves and darts around the stage, declaring: " … you got to believe in something / or you will be a rhythmless void."