Hip-Hop Memory and Meditation (Number 1)

This is the first memory and meditations I seek to write to archive, and most importantly, to share.

I grew up on early rap/hip-hop music. It is one of the earliest of sources of creativity that helped define me and inspire me. Growing up on the west side of Rockford, IL (northern Illinois) rap music was a profound discovery young people of color, especially in the inner city, were growing to love and delving into deeply. I was one of those young people who quickly fell in love with the raps, the rhythms, the rhymes.

My older brothers began collecting and playing the 1970s and 1980s rap/hip-hop music I owe a lot to. They were playing all kinds of rap music, mostly from the east coast. It was a new form of music that would not only identify what was going on in the inner city streets of this country, but would also change what was going on here. It became our soundtrack, our collective voices, our messages to the world.

Break dancing was beginning to take over as well, so these two elements of the hip-hop culture were allowing young people of color, especially Latinos/as to to express ourselves in the most creative ways. The older people didn’t understand it. They would look at us crazy wondering what we were doing, what was going on. We stuck to it. Rap especially was the sound of the day, we had our own music to dance to and to sing along to.

One of my earliest memories was going to a local convenience store not far from where my family and I was living at. That store sold cassette tapes and rap was one some of these cassette tapes. I saw one that said “Funky Technician” by Lord Finesse and DJ Mike Smooth. As soon as I saw it I knew I wanted that tape. I had to hear that music! It didn’t take me long. I got enough money to buy the cassette and went and bought. That was probably my first purchase of music. It was one of the best purchases I ever made.

Funky Technician, the first project by Lord Finesse And DJ Mike Smooth is a groundbreaking rap/hip-hop recording. I had heard nothing like it at that point. Lord Finesse was on top of his lyrical game and the beats by Mike Smooth fit the raps perfectly. My favorite song on the project “Funky Technician” I bobbed my head to many times. I can remember this like it was yesterday.

I spent hours in my room listening to this cassette tape. It introduced me to a lyricism and production I had no idea existed. All of the tracks on the project has a unique flavor, all of them definitely are funky, creative. DJ Premier produced a track on the album. I didn’t really know of his work back then but you can see that Preemo – as he’s called – was definitely a producer on the rise back then.

This is a meditation. A memory. Reminding me of where I came from as a lyricist and a poet. I learned from poets like Lord Finesse and it is nice to meditate in this, to document it, remember it. We’ve all been inspired by something or someone. Let us take note of this as we strive and thrive as Creatives.

In Deep Peace, Christopher D. Sims a.k.a. UniverSouLove.

 

Human Rights – a poem by Christopher D. Sims

Our beloved, sacred human rights
take flight the day we are born.

Born into a world of injustices,
harms, hindrances, limitations
People of color are slapped in the face
from nation to nation.

As a universal concept, we all should reject
any notion against any person’s worth, dignity.

We all have voices. We all have minds.
We all know what bigots and dictators are,
especially in these political times.

Your rights are mines, my rights are yours:
a mantra true and righteous forever more.

We dream, we hope, we unite, we fight
For the liberties that come along with
the power of human rights.

From nation to nation, there’s a war
going on. The youth are becoming educated
the elders are getting strong.

We sing a song crafted by the trials in our paths.
Justice is a love word that will always last.

Power to the people in Africa, in Haiti, in Palestine.
Power to all the people who have been in shackles
for lifetimes.

We need compassion, resources, and loving-kindness
shared with the downtrodden. Human potential is
the best weapon against those who have been overlooked,
forgotten.

We collectively, virtually sit by the camp fire
at night. The moon glows brightly despite
what’s happening in communities where
crying is being unheard. We know we’re on
the verge of a huge turnaround, even when
loud tears hit the ground.

The sound and sight of people of all races and classes
coming together, means, human rights will be that much better.

©Christopher D. Sims
February 25, 2017

Smuggling Poetry Across Boarders

I have a confession to make:
In one of my earliest days as a
spoken word performer, I smuggled
poems across the boarder to Canada.
I told a white lie to get in, those words
needed a stage, freedom.

That was the beginning: knowing the
poems I was penning were taking
me across interstate lines was the
most ultimate of times, of times.

Lines on paper traveling on buses
and airplanes to arrive to be unpacked,
spoken, or slightly rapped.

Sacred Woman, I took her to Washington, DC
with me; I Met Her at A Book Store, we went to the
Memphis Black Writers Conference & Film Festival;
Word Warrior, we cruised out to Chicago to the
Chicago Poetry Festival; She has Breast Cancer
has traveled with me to Cornell University.

These are poems with miles on them – frequent
flyer miles where they received applause, praise, smiles.

They are packed, packaged, unpacked. Poems, rhymes,
rhythms, raps packed, packaged, unpacked.

Poems, rhymes, rhythms, raps
Tucked neatly inside of my bags. Traveling
vocab. Traveling vocab.

They’ve helped me develop a following
and a name. Poetry written, but born to be
wild. Experiencing long bus rides, just as
tired and worn as I am. Just as tired and
worn as I am.

I open the bag, then let them breathe. They
have come to achieve. Been places you
wouldn’t believe. Smuggled consistently
ready to please.

Happy to satisfy, especially after they’ve
been requested or ordered, are the poems
of mines smuggled across boarders.

© Christopher D. Sims
March 7^th, 2013

Listen to a recording of this poem with music here: https://soundcloud.com/universoulove/smuggling-poetry-across-1?in=universoulove/sets/internacional-sounds-words

Words and Water: Katrina Ten Years Later – a poem by Christopher D. Sims

This poem formed, brewed inside of me
Like you did Katrina before the levees broke
As you rushed forcefully, undeniably
into New Orleans.

This storm of words inside me took
their time. They aligned with thoughts, feelings,
emotions, tears, devastation, loss.

So many lost everything: lost family; lost pets;
lost homes; lost a sense of belonging; lost their
ability to return home.

This is jazz and blues for the displaced; the
people who were called refugees. Easy, no
the rebirth of New Orleans has not been.

Gentrification has pushed the poor out. Young
Black men cannot find jobs. Isn’t it odd
That the people who created the culture, the dance,
the music are not benefiting financially?

Katrina’s wrath can still be felt ten years later.

These words are brewing still. My memory
takes me to images of bodies floating in high
waters, to the eyes of the distressed, the shocked,
to a president’s response that was too little and too late.

I wait.

I wade in rivers of words.

I listen to spirit and sound.

I remember Katrina rushing through the Lower 9^th.

It’s been a struggle to arrive at these ten years.
These words are the Mississippi in the form of tears.

© Christopher D. Sims
 August 27, 2015

Remembering Michael Brown – A Poem by Christopher D. Sims

Four and a half hours your body laid there
flat on hot summer concrete untouched, unmoved,
not cared for. Your people in  Ferguson started
crying and fighting back, fighting back and crying.

Dying harshly seems to be young Black men’s plight.

Death knows our name all too well. It’s either death
or jail and prison cells.

Your tragic story is all too commonplace in the thick of
the hate and inequality of the United States.

We are remembering you Michael. We are remembering
the lies, the pain, the struggle, the voices that followed
in those Ferguson streets. We have yet to find justice and
peace.

It’s been a year but it feels like yesterday that your death
sparked an uprising; a resistance; a movement; movement
building. Black Lives Matter is not yielding!

I’ve remembered you in marches since then in St. Louis,
New York,  Illinois, and New Jersey. Marching with the
masses in what is a state of emergency.

We breathe the horrible air of American injustice that you
won’t ever again. We are fighting, igniting, engaging, and
conversing about race. We are taking over space after space
to be heard.

And the name Mike Brown sits proudly our tongues as we
fight and fight until we have won. Until we have won.

I am remembering you lost soldier who died with your hands
up in submission. Because of what happened to you, we are
making sure the world listens.

Copyright Christopher D. Sims
August 10th, 2015

The Ghost of Sandra Bland – A Poem by Christopher D. Sims

The ghost of Sandra Bland wants us to understand
That the lives of Black people in the United States
are fragile; are for the taking; are worth nothing when
a cop is confronting you.

The ghost of Sandra Bland haunts me in the day time,
and even in my sleep. She creeps among us fresh from
a suspicious hanging – her life physically not remaining.

The ghost of Sandra Bland watches us watch what happened
to her on social media and on the evening news. She watches
her devastated family sing the blues. Sing the blues.

The ghost of Sandra Bland knows what happens.

She’s waiting for us to find out. She’s waiting for us to demand
justice and cry out!

The ghost of Sandra Bland is just as strong as the young
black woman who knew her rights; who lost her life; who
went down in a fight just because she was black and determined.
Black and educated. Black and situated hoping for a better life.

The ghost of Sandra Bland is among us all.

Will you hear her call?

Copyright Christopher D. Sims
July 22nd, 2015

black churches are burning – a poem by Christopher D. Sims

It’s a hot summer. It’s burning hot in the south. Black churches are burning down in the south. Black connections to African roots are being threatened and uprooted in the Deep South. Even in God’s house. Even where people gather, pray, seek lives of purpose. Black churches are burning. Black people are hurting. Black people are worrying. Black people are not forgetting. We are not forgetting about similar times. We are not forgetting about the same kinds of wicked minds that contain hate. Even in 2015 we can relate. Black churches are burning down. Burning down in old southern towns. Black churches; Black memories; Black gatherings that have happened for centuries. Black people praying and swaying; Swaying and praying. What is this new hate saying? What is it conveying? Black churches burn. Black churches are burning in the Deep South. Yes, even God’s house. They want to burn away our history. They want to burn us into misery. Even when we’ve been a part of this nation since its early beginnings. Will the burnings have an ending? As Black churches burn who is winning? Black churches are burning, burning in the Deep South.

Copyright Christopher D. Sims

July 3rd, 2015 

The Art of Performance Poetry with A Lively Writer’s Group

Performing spoken word poetry.

Yesterday morning, after an early and fairly quiet drive to Winnetka, Illinois, I went to the Off Campus Writers’ Workshop to be featured with a discussion focused on my ” The Seven Elements of Performance Poetry.” The group was very lively, and interested in what I had to share and to say about my techniques as a seasoned spoken word poet.

I put together a defined workshop that spoke to each element – available as a Word document if you’re interested in viewing it. I was concerned about not having enough material to carry me through, but that quickly vanished when the lively group of seasoned writers and literary enthusiasts began asking me questions about my knowledge of performance poetry and/or Slam poetry.

The questions carried us through most of the first half of our electric conversation. I am glad that I have been performing as long as I have, and was prepared with a memory of what it takes to be a performance poet. The questions they asked kept me on my toes!

I learned of the Off Campus Writers’ Workshop through a local poet’s husband during a conversation we had at an event where his visual art was on display, and where her and my poetry was featured in a live reading in downtown Rockford. I remembered the name of the group and went home and found their website. I reached out to them expressing my interest in being a presenter. I shared what I could present and it was accepted.

The Seven Elements of Performance Poetry is my go to workshop for highlighting my tactics as a spoken word poet on stage. It consists of pieces of knowledge and information that I feel will help any poet seeking to become a performance poet – which, as I explained to the Off Campus Writers’ Workshop group, is taking written poetry to the stage.

The group consisted mostly of women who listened intensely and made sure they asked the right questions. Performance poetry is not simple, and I believe only the brave poets want to take their writing to the level of performing and reciting it.

I have been performing since the late 90s as a spoken word artist. My early start was in Memphis, TN at the former Sidewalk University in midtown Memphis. I remember that first experience like it was yesterday. Going to an open mike to share my poetry live was something I had never done. It was a new genre for me. Although I had performed as a budding rapper at my elementary school in the mid 80s, there was something different about reciting poetry to a group of people I didn’t know. Later on, after learning about the weekly open mike at the former Precious Cargo in downtown Memphis, I become hooked and haven’t looked back since.

Years later, here I am in Winnetka, Illinois at the Off Campus Writers’ Workshop sharing what I have learned all of these years. I have come full circle as a spoken word poet. I am glad I had the opportunity to showcase that there with that lively and kindred group of writers and literary enthusiasts!

I hope to get back there some time, even if it is just to listen to them and learn about what they are doing with their writing. Happy National Poetry Month! May the muse be with you!

Unemployment in the United States through Jazz and Poetry

This collaboration between the United Kingdom’s Michael Linney and myself addresses unemployment in the United States with a blend of poetry and jazz music. The arts meet reality.

 

A Music Review 27 Years In The Making: Steady B’s “What’s My Name”

I started listening to rap/hip-hop music in the early 80s, shortly after my older brothers introduced my twin and I to the New York birthed art form. Those early 80s were great times for young black and brown women and men who witnessed the early stages of a culture that has grown exponentially since then. Rap was mesmerizing, and that’s exactly what it was for me before I was even a teenager.

Steady B’s classic “What’s My Name” was one of the first rap recordings that turned me into a big fan and addict of rhythms and sounds that have their roots in the musicality of the African diaspora. I had the album, a 78 inch vinyl, that I played on a daily basis for months. Steady B is one of those lyrical legends that you hear about on the underground and early rap scene. He established himself early on with this second project.

Steady B is a Philadelphia native who is a pioneer of the early rap sound that Philadelphia is known for.

My favorite track on the album is the title track, “What’s My Name.” He rhymes “Steady B yeah you got it right/The MC, master of the ceremony tonight.” With passion and a beat that will quickly make your head nod, the track takes you to a place where purists of rap have sought quality lyricism and beats that give an emcee’s rhyme the power that they need. “What’s My Name” reminds me of Nas’ classic “It Ain’t Hard To Tell” – lyrical prowess that you can only get from those who have proven themselves, and show a natural talent at rhyming and emceeing.

Steady B wrote and recorded “I’ll Take Your Radio.” An early diss track that was aimed at LL Cool J. This track helped put him on the map and solidify him as an emcee to be reckoned with.

“What’s My Name is the quintessential rap album that “rap heads” love, and once they re-examine it, they give it its just props. Every beat on the album is done well and the scratching by DJ Tat Money is exactly what you’re looking for in an early rap album. Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince’s early sound come out of this Philadelphia tradition of precise rap lyrics and cutting and scratching that is superb.

“Use Me” is my second favorite track on the album. It’s a smooth rap track that has a sample in it from an early R&B song. It’s probably one of the earliest rap tracks that featured a sample from

an R&B song. DJ Tat Money’s best scratching is found in this song. I can listen to this track over and over.

“Funky Drummer” is another pounding track with Steady B flowing over live drums. This was a great idea. Live drums and a rapper go together well if it’s done right. Steady B had no problem making it work!

When I want to go to a quality rap album that takes me back to the music I fell in love with as a child, “What’s My Name” is an album that I can go to and be satisfied. I recommend this album to any youth who wants to find the best in early rap music. For upcoming lyricists and rappers, Steady B can be a guiding force showing you how it’s supposed to be done. I would say the same for DJ Tat Money. He’s a deejay who is masterful and talented at what he does. “What’s My Name” will show you that.

Long live Rap and the culture we call Hip-Hop