I happen to love words and like performance art, so it may seem odd that I abhor “spoken word,” that amalgam of poetry, prose and performance. In theory, on paper (hah), I like it, but in practice, well, it’s usually painful to witness. More than most people realize, it’s quite difficult to pull off as it requires talent in writing (which few amateurs have and not all professionals do either), as well as interesting subject matter (hint: your personal feelings about love and sex, not so much) and good delivery.
Most spoken word-ists have but one (if any) of these three elements, usually the latter. And even excellent writers will sometimes linger over boring subjects in their writing (ahem, David Foster Wallace). Thus it was a lovely surprise to see Neil Gaiman reading at the Torent Engine 88 gala last Friday. Mr. Gaiman’s voice carried nuance and substance as he read a poignant and literally fantastic poem about the end of the world featuring aliens, zombies and warring gods, and second poem about what he called a personal end of the world, the night before he got married and went to a “bordello of rhyme.”
So I learned spoken word can be enjoyable, but all the same, is best left to the professionals.
