It is probably pretty safe to say that Saul Williams is seen as the posterboy for the slam-poetry movement that has infiltrated mainstream media and culture. After garnering awards for movies that profile the new generation of poetic syntax, appearances in chain record stores across the country and even having ultra-hip trendsetter Russell Simmons jump on your bandwagon with a new HBO series based on your art, being a posterboy might become an irritating job. But Saul Williams doesn’t see it like that.
“I don’t think about being a figurehead of a movement, because that is really all you are, a figurehead,” Saul Williams says from a hotel room in downtown Seattle. “You by no means represent the core of it all and so I just take it in stride. It is because of the media that people are seen like that, so I’m not trippin’ like ‘I really am that.’ I am just seen as [a figurehead] by people who need to see things in that way.”
Speaking on the positive aspects of the subculture that lies in the slam poetry movement, the Albany, N.Y.-born renaissance man champions poetry’s ability to help young people think outside the box and make decisions for themselves while realizing the power of their own stories.
“The great thing about the spoken word movement is that it is so diverse and it is beyond just urban America and poetry’s connection to hip hop,” he says in his deep voice, each word perfectly articulated. “There are people in the poetry scene that were turned on to it by actually reading it and there are people that were turned on to it by their connection to Ani DiFranco. It seems to be the place where young people are saying, ‘You know what, I can think for myself. Beyond what MTV tells me to think.'”
With thoughts of actually recording an album of not just poetry, but iconoclastic music mixed with his newfound desire to sing, Williams was inspired to do so during the filming of the 1998 feature “Slam.”
After three years in the making, Saul Williams and his band began recording his debut, Amethyst Rock Star (American Recordings), in January 2000 at the famed Cutting Room recording studio in New York City. Under the tutelage of hip-hop pioneer and head of American Recordings Rick Rubin, Williams found comfort in his first major recording venture, all the while tapping into the talents and experience the Def Jam Records co-founder gained over the years.
“Rick heard something I recorded in 1998 and contacted my management right around the time ‘Slam’ came out,” Williams says. “I decided to go with Rick [as a producer] because the music I was playing around with was extremely experimental. It was getting a bit closely linked to the fusion of rock and hip-hop elements and I figured that Rick was the one that would know how to successfully do that.”
Not actually involved in the songwriting process, Rubin mixed Amethyst Rock Star and advised the artist, now in his late 20s, to explore new avenues of music and thought.
“[Rubin] was kind of like a mentor who would say, ‘You need more guitars here, you need less guitars there,'” Williams says. “He would just have me demo songs and play them for him. And he said that when we had 20 songs that we could go into the studio and record.”
Shifting the conversation back to the film that made his name known, Williams answers questions about “Slam” with the enthusiasm of any person that is truly comfortable with a piece of art. Poignant, passionate and praised as one of the best independent films of 1998, the Mark Levin-directed film follows Williams as Raymond Joshua–an incarcerated marijuana slinger–through the tumultuous process of being arrested in a tough section of Washington, D.C., infamously known as “Dodge City,” then through the judicial process.
“It was surreal that we shot it in a real prison,” Williams reminisces. “It was in the D.C. jail, but I’ll tell you one thing–it wasn’t really scary. The [prisoners] were so cool with us. Just full of respect and gratitude and the fact that we were even there trying to document imprisonment. They wanted it to feel real. It was a magical experience. Everybody in the project knew that the project was so much larger than all of us. We felt the power of it while we were creating it. We knew it would win the awards it won.”
Clearly proud of his work in film, poetry and music, the now 30-year-old Williams (his birthday is Feb. 29, so he has had only four real birthdays) appears to be at ease with his career and excited about his current tour.
Visiting major cities as well as college campuses, Williams addresses one of the biggest issues concerning college kids and intellectual property lawyers alike: Downloading and “stealing” music.
“You can’t steal music,” he says in a slow, almost nonchalant tone. “Well, I guess you can, ’cause Elvis did. But I really don’t see it as a big problem. People need music. Just because people can afford to pay for it doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have it. I actually think it’s a great thing. It is a means of self-empowerment. People will still pay for music. If they can figure out a way to do it on the computer, then hell yeah–they should do it.”
Now, how is that for thinking outside the box?
