If you’re a fan of Kae Tempest’s rapping, poetry, spoken word and writing then this book is probably for you.
I’m a relatively new fan of Tempest, although, their work has always been on my radar. Sometimes I’ve scoffed at their music because I couldn’t pinpoint what I was hearing. I had no reference for it. Is it rap? Is it spoken word? Is it theatre? It’s all of the above and more. Honestly, who cares. It’s weird, clever, and interesting.
When I heard a live version of their song, “People’s Faces” I was sold. Their lyricism and delivery is so on point.
This is their first book of non-fiction and it reads as a continuous monologue from someone who has lived many lives and feels the weight of the world, yet has enough wisdom and experience to navigate it all with aplomb.
From the breath of a homeless man, to the awe of an audience, Tempest unpacks the nuances of connection, disconnection, creativity, live performance, and the numbness of capitalism.
The prose has a beat generation pace from the same vein of Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. This is a strength and weakness of the text, as sometimes I felt like I was rereading the same page over.
The book finishes with a David Foster Wallace, “This Is Water” vibe, which is a perfect and elevating end to the 117 pages of self-reflective poetry.
“All that sound out there is life and people. Not background sound. But close-up. Front and centre. See those windows and all those buildings? Look up. There’s life in there. Put yourself away. Let go of of yourself. Tune in to other people. To the movement in the branches, the sudden coming of rain or the patterns in the waves. This is it. This is the thing. This is the beautiful thing.”
