Saul
Hoping to catch Saul Williams next week:
The manic anger-energy in it is addictive.
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It is the summer of 2002. I am cross-legged on the floor of Ben's dark bedroom and there are bruises covering the backs of my thighs from dam-jumping the day before. We have run out of conversation, or maybe we're just waiting for the night to cool down so we can go for a walk and hold hands in the park. A song comes on, Penny for a Thought, sandwiched between David Bowie and Propagandhi, spazzing the equalizer and catching my ear. It's the rhythm, or maybe it's the message, but something sticks, capping days of heady brew for a naive white girl who's just 18: anarchy, socialism, revolution, DIY, sewing clothes with dental floss, biking everywhere even when you have a car, art, love, slam poetry, actively tackling injustice with real tools and real organizing. A whole different reality.
which one is keeping it real, son?
who manufactured your steel, son?
hardcore, ancient elements at the earth's core
fuck it, I'ma keep speaking 'til my throat's sore
an emcee told a crowd of hundreds to put their hands in the air
an armed robber stepped to a bank and told everyone to put their hands in the air
a Christian minister gives his benediction while the congregation hold their hands in the air
love the image of the happy Buddha with his hands in the air
hands up and feel confused, define tomorrow
your belief system ain't louder than my car system
(Also need/want to buy his new album, The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust.)