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drinks Monday 3 November 08
Married to the Last of the Beats
Jamie Kilstein's a Beat with a potent political message ... says Allison Kilkenny, who's run with him from angry audiences. Allison should know ... she's Mrs Kilstein
by Allison Kilkenny
Ours is the generation of aggressive apathy and callous ignorance. Leaders such as Robert Kennedy and revolutionaries such as Che Guevara and Bill Hicks would shudder at our slothfulness. Worse, they would be appalled at the lack of camaraderie between us and at the disloyalty that has infested our ranks. Our generation lives in the
time of the western caste system. We divide ourselves into clusters based on socio-economic trends, race, sexuality and other such imagined differences. We’ve lacked a voice to unite us - a clear, reasoning voice that called for union, movement, and reasoning. That is, until now.
Jamie Kilstein is a revolutionary in every sense of the word. He is the product of the radicals who came before him - a strange amalgamation of Beat, thug, and poet. He is not a comic, politician, or guru. Even the term ‘slam poet’ falls short of describing his craft. He is a respected poet, who has just earned the coveted title of Grand Slam Champion, and will be representing New York City at the National Slam in Austin, Texas this year.
Some might call me biased, since I'm his writing partner and wife; however I have witnessed his extraordinary acts of bravery and genius. Jamie has recently escaped from the world of stand-up comedy in favor of pursuing his political work. The transition from the seedy world of comedy to the enlightened craft of poetry was not a smooth one. On several occasions I have seen Jamie defending his new craft to old friends, family members, and his management. He has never faltered.
Trailblazing is not a difficult task for Jamie. Through his difficult evolution from comedian to poet, he has remained resilient. He has never compromised his vision; even when doing so was a faux pas, and on one occasion almost incited a riot. One night, Jamie and I fled from a New York City comedy club after he performed his ‘Hurricane Katrina’ piece for an audience of white, rich suburbanites who had migrated into the city for a spell of alcohol-soaked debauchery.
It started when Jamie's manager excitedly phoned him to say that Jamie had secured him a Saturday night spot at The Comic Strip Live. Not only had Jamie clinched a spot that most comics dream of, but Comedy Central (America’s largest comedy television channel) would be at the Strip, and were scouting for the Montreal Comedy Festival. His agent was ecstatic. However, when Jamie was told to go light on the political stuff and perform his familiar, harmless comedy cadence, he looked nauseated.
While Jamie's comedy is witty and reflects his intellect, it is not the medium through which he prefers to catalyse his political platform. Unbeknown to the manager, Jamie had discovered slam poetry, and was quickly climbing the ranks of the three main poetry venues in New York City: Urbana, Bar 3, and, The Nuyorican Café. He hung up the phone and looked at me. For several moments we were silent, and then he nodded. There was an unspoken agreement between us that he was going to throw the spot and perform his poetry. It was huge risk. Reading his poetry almost guaranteed that his management would drop him, that Comedy Central would blacklist him, and that an angry, drunk audience might attack us when Jamie failed to bring in the easy laughs. This is the level of his commitment to his craft. He would rather express himself with experimental art than cater to a zombie-like audience.
When I first met Jamie, he always referred to Bill Hicks, and talked about the potential for intelligent, social commentary to be hidden between set-up and punch line. Like Hicks, he saw troubling trends in American society, and he wanted to discuss them publicly. People who can afford costly comedy-show tickets and outrageous drink prices are usually white, middle- or upper-class men and women, and they only want to hear black-people-are-different-than-white-people jokes, dick jokes, or pot jokes. They certainly don't want to hear about the American Government planting crack in ghettos, or the army sending recruiters to poor urban areas where they have a better chance of snagging disenfranchised youth. This audience wants their punch-lines spoon-fed to, and the respective club's management keeps any danger of descent or serious discussion far away. ‘Too many serious thoughts upset the stomach,’ Jamie would say.
An interviewer once asked Robert Kennedy what went wrong after he gave an unsuccessful primary speech to a crowd in Seattle. His audience was older, white men and women, who ignored Kennedy's impassioned pleas about the United States’ economy (with its widening divide between rich and poor). Kennedy responded, ‘If I brought a ghetto here, they'd understand.’ As with Robert Kennedy, some privileged folk don't get Jamie. But that's not who he's trying to reach.
Back to that night at The Comic Strip. Jamie performed his Hurricane Katrina piece, called ‘I'm Pretty Sure George W. Bush Hates Black People.’ The audience was not happy. Around the time Jamie exclaimed, ‘President Bush doesn't hate black people! He doesn't need a hurricane to do his dirty work! He has crack, and ghettos, and shitty schooling, he has the NRA, the Confederate flag, Jerry Farwell, and Ted-fucking-Nugent’, the audience began to hum with discomfort. I saw several people hang their heads, as if Jamie was their father, scolding them. A few tables tried to flag down the MC, the only black face in the audience, but their host was too busy smiling.
Audience members began to talk amongst themselves. They looked nervous, angry, and oddly panicked. Despite these distractions, Jamie concluded his set. When it finished, running from the club was not an over-reaction. People don't like an artist who thrusts truth unexpectedly in their faces. So we ran from the furious audience, and from Jamie's manager, who followed us onto the wet city streets, screaming Jamie's name until we lost him.
This spirit of political descent brought Jamie further
success as a slam poet in the city. I’ve stood in the thick of a surging crowd at the Nuyorican Café - a place named for the diversity of the city. Every shade of poor gathers at the Nuyo weekly to preach their message. This is where Allen Ginsberg read, and where hop hip sheds its beats and bounces raw from the rafters. I’ve seen sisters and brothers of all colours embrace Jamie's words - his criticism of class wars, racism, and deceit that infest America. In the poetry community, he is not a comedian; nor is he a preacher, as some have accused. He is possessed by the spirit of something our generation had almost forgotten - passion.
The Beats lived furiously. So did Sartre and the Existentialists. They were living. They found excitement and inspiration in the mundane, while the drooling, dumb masses went unchallenged by plastic forms of entertainment and their leaders.
While politicians do not have the luxury to speak as freely as Jamie does, they would do well to study his colloquialism and brutal honesty. Most Western leaders lack zeal, charm, and a definite agenda. When Jamie is on stage his passion is electric and his rallying call unmistakable. One gets the impression that his fans are like an army that would follow their leader into battle without question. Yet this is not blind compliance. It is the act of impassioned devotees who have finally found their archetypal leader. Something in his voice promises a better tomorrow – A time when Generation X-ers find excitement in political debate, community development, and social reform.
Jamie and I are touring America this year. We will be drifting from town to town, living on the modest pay of various poetry venues and the kind spirits of slam masters who’ve offered to house us. Jamie will share his message at these venues and no doubt recruit more people into his Army of Reason. We consider ourselves part of the Last Beats - those artists who risk everything in the hope that they might offer the world something of true, original beauty.
END
(c) Allison Kilkenny 29 June 06
Further information, tour dates, and journal updates at: www.myspace.com/jamiekilstein.
article subeditor - Sarah Shavel 29 June 06
Fringe Report (c) Fringe Report 2002-2008
