{"id":3528,"date":"2014-04-15T23:42:00","date_gmt":"2014-04-15T23:42:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.eoisabi.org\/?p=3528"},"modified":"2026-03-24T22:40:39","modified_gmt":"2026-03-24T22:40:39","slug":"the-last-poets","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/englishroam.com\/?p=3528","title":{"rendered":"The Last Poets"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a4\u00a0Novelist\/essayist\u00a0Darius James<\/strong><\/a>, in his book\u00a0\u00abThat’s Blaxploitation!<\/strong>\u00bb (St. Martin’s Griffin, 1995) recalled the impact of the Poets at their birth.<\/p>\n

\u00abIn 1970 the Last Poets released their first album and dropped a bomb on black Amerikkka’s turntables. Muthafuckas ran f’cover.<\/address>
Nobody was ready.\u00a0Had em scared o’ revolution. Scared o’ the whyte man’s god complex. Scared o’ subways. Scared o’ each other. Scared o’ themselves. And scared o’ that totem of onanistic worship — the eagle-clawed Amerikkkan greenback! The rhetoric made you mad. The drums made you pop your fingers. And the poetry made you sail on the cushions of a fine hashish high.\u00a0Most importantly, they made you think and kept you \u00abcorrect\u00bb on a revolutionary level.<\/address>
We all connected. ‘Cause it was a Black communal thing. Like the good vibes and paper plate of red-peppered potato salad at a neighborhood barbecue. The words and the rhythms were relevant. We joined together around the peace pipe and the drum. And when it came to the rhythms of the drums, the drums said, \u00abCheck your tired-ass ideology at the door.\u00bb<\/address><\/blockquote>\n

\"last_poets\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u21d4<\/strong>The Last Poets<\/strong>\u00a0<\/a>made four albums. Oyewole, at times with Hassan, at time without, made a number of others. On the albums, there are many special guests.\u00a0Bill Laswell<\/strong>\u00a0has appeared with the group during much of the 90s. They participated in the 1994 Lollapalooza tour; performed in John Singleton’s \u00abPoetic Justice\u00bb film and\u00a0Holy Terror<\/a><\/strong>\u00a0has Senegalese drummer Aiyb Dieng and his longtime collaborator, former Coltrane protege\u00a0Pharoah Sanders<\/strong>\u00a0to add some fireworks on sax. Hassan has the CD\u00a0Be Bop or Be Dead<\/strong>. Anyway, a mid 90s performance of Oyewole and Hassan can be heard on the\u00a0Stolen Moments: Red Hot and Blue<\/strong>\u00a0compilation, which also ran on PBS as a video. On the fourth album since 1993,\u00a0Time Has Come<\/strong>, Chuck D, co-founder of Public Enemy appears.<\/p>\n

\u21d3 \u00a0\u00a0‘Oh my people’ <\/a>\u00a0\u21d0<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>– Well, thanks for coming by the studio, Gylan… er … Could you tell us a little bit about the origins of The Last Poets<\/strong>?<\/address>
– Well, we started on a corner, an we finished down the square.<\/address>
– And what was it that you were up to do?<\/address>
– We […?] bring some guitar.<\/address>
– And what kind of resistance did you run into?<\/address>
– […?] is superstition.<\/address>
– A reaction of the record companies? What did you think about that?<\/address>
– […?] artists to the hole, stayed in the corner and oriented the trick.<\/address>
– Radio? Critics? Newspapers?<\/address>
– […?] radio, tvs spreading aloud across the seven seas.<\/address>
– Did you have any kind of problems from the government or the government agencies?<\/address>
– Well the government is the governing man, they govern you man.<\/address>\n
\u2660 \u00a0True Blues\u00a0<\/a> \u21d0<\/h5>\n

True Blues\u00a0ain’t no new news\u00a0‘bout who’s been abused
for the blues is as old\u00a0as my stolen soul, as the true blues
I sang the blues when the missionaries came
passing out Bibles in Jesus’ name.
I sang the blue in the hull of a ship
beneath the sting of the slavemaster’s whip.
I sang the blues when the ship anchored\u00a0the dock
my family being sold on a slave block.
I sang the blues being torn from my first born
and hung my head and cried
when my wife took his life
and then committed suicide.
I sang the blues on the slavemaster’s\u00a0plantation
helping him build his tree nation.
I sang the blues in the cotton field
hustlin’ to make the daily yield.
I sang the blues when he forced my woman\u00a0to bed.
Lord Knows I wish he was dead
I sang the blues on the run
ducking the dogs and dodging the gun.
I sang the blues hangin’ from the tree
in a desperate attempt to break free.<\/p>\n

I sang the blue from sun up to down
cursing the master when he wasn’t around.
I sang the blues in all his wars
dying for someone unknown cause.
I sang the blues in the high tone, a low moan,
a load groan, a soft grunt, and a hard funk!
I sang the blues on land, sea and air
about who, when, why and where.
I sang the blues in church on Sunday.
slavin’ on Monday
misused on Tuesday.
abused on Wednesday.
accused on Thursday.
fried alive on Friday
and died on Saturday.
Sho’nuff singin the blues.
I sang the blues in the summer, fall, winter\u00a0and spring.
I know sho’nuff the blues is my thing.
I sang the backwater blues.
Rhythm and blues.
Gospel blues.
St. Louis blues
Crosstown blues.
Chicago blues.
Mississipi Goddam blues.
The Watts blues.
Harlem blues.
Hough blues.
Gutbucket blues.
Funky junkie blues.
I sang the up north cigarette cough blues.
The down south strung out the side of my\u00a0\u00a0mouth blues.
I sang the black blues.
I sang the blues blacker.
I sang the blues blackest.
I sang about my sho’nuff blue blackeness.<\/p>\n

I sing the blues for you . . .<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u2660 \u00a0E Pluribus Unum \u00a0\u2193<\/strong><\/h5>\n