When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

Jesus Christ is gonna be standing on the corner of Lennox Ave and 125th Street trying to catch the first gypsy cab out of Harlem, when the revolution comes

Poeti, musicisti, attivisti, rivoluzionari, “MC” senza microfoni, newyorchesi. Neri. Last Poets.

Abiodun Oyewole, Omar Ben Hassen, Jalal Mansur Nuriddin si incontrano spesso all’incrocio tra Lennox Avenue e la 125°. Mettono in ritmo, più che in musica, le loro rime.

Non si parla di sesso, né d’amori finiti o ragazze dei sogni. Si parla di società, di politica, di razza, razze e razzismi. Di diritti. Lo si fa in un modo che 20 anni dopo abbiamo chiamato hip-hop. Non ci sono chitarre, pianoforti, mellotron né sezioni d’archi. C’è il battito delle mani, la chiamata e risposta tra il solista e il coro.

Per un bianco ascoltare questa musica è sempre spiazzante. Inevitabilmente; ai limiti dell’imbarazzo.

Chi dice il contrario, mente.

Si potrà obbiettare che per chi ascolta, parla, ha ascoltato, scritto e trattato di Ornette Coleman, dell’Art Ensemble of Chicago e di tutta quell’ enorme mole di Great Black Music, potrebbe essere facile sparare qualche sentenza anche in questo caso. Non è così; però certamente anche questa è “Great Black Music” nella pura accezione che ne dava Joseph Jarman.

Ma resta spiazzante.

Come trovarsi nel mezzo di una scena tipo quella in cui Clint Eastwood/Henry Callaghan va ad interrogare  Albert Popwell/Mustapha in “Cielo di piombo ispettore Callaghan”:

-You got the wrong number, boy. We don't deal in violence.-

-What do you deal in?

-Waiting.-

-For what?-

-Waiting for all you honkies...to blow each other up so we can move on in.-

O come nel pranzo che Al Pacino/Tony D’amato offre a Willie Beamen/Jamie Foxx in “Ogni maledetta domenica”:

-Maybe it’s not racism, maybe it’s placism, but the black man still gotta know his place, right, coach?-

Forse c’è ancora una cronica incomunicabilità.

Credo che qualunque bianco americano possa ascoltare un album del genere, come Last Poets, apprezzarlo, ammirarlo, magari idolatrarlo; ma mai farlo proprio. Figurarsi noi europei degli anni duemila. Tanta parte scappa, tanta parte sfugge, è un’esperienza di pura superficie, di puro radicalismo-chic tanto per dire “Però, che figo che è condividere gli ideali nella Black Nation!”.

Ammettiamolo, finalmente.

E’ come appendere al muro la maschera di ebano al ritorno dal safari in Kenya.

Quale Kenya, quale safari?

Non esiste quel Kenya, quella Tanzania. Non esiste quell’Africa. Esiste, anzi persiste nella perenne mentalità missionario-colonizzatrice-educatrice tipica della storia centenaria del bianco europeo cattolico.

Educhiamo il buon selvaggio in cambio di qualche devoto alla nostra sacrosanta religione. L’unica giusta, s’intende!

Sono troppo estremista? Chiedere a Kurtz per chiarimenti…

Allora ho deciso che tanto vale ascoltare “Last Poets” per quello che è, esternamente: un archetipo di hip-hop analogico all’incrocio tra Lennox Avenue e la 125°. Ad Harlem. Rime, ritmi, africanismi, bidoni di alluminio percossi con le mani, belle voci; frenesia da rito laico; ma pur sempre rito. Testi strampalati, che mi dispiace di non potere interiorizzare fino in fondo. Anzi, il farlo mi sembrerebbe un’ingerenza indebita.

Non voglio portarmi a casa la maschera. Mi basta ammirarla nella bottega dello scultore.

Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers are scared of revolution

But niggers shouldn't be scared of revolution

Because revolution is nothing but change

And all niggers do is change

Niggers come in from work and change into pimping clothes

And hit the streets to make some quick change

Niggers change their hair from black to red to blond

And hope like hell their looks will change

Nigger kill other niggers

Just because one didn't receive the correct change

Niggers change from men to women, from women to men

Niggers change, change, change

You hear niggers say

Things are changing? Things are changing?

Yeah, things are changing

Niggers change into 'Black' nigger things

Black nigger things that go through all kinds of changes

The change in the day that makes them rant and rave

Black Power! Black Power!

And the change that comes over them at night, as they sigh and moan:

White thighs, ooh, white thighs

Niggers always goin' through bullshit change

But when it comes for real change

Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers are actors, niggers are actors

Niggers act like they are in a hurry

To catch the first act of the 'Great White Hope'

Niggers try to act like Malcolm

And when the white man doesn't react

Toward them like he did Malcolm

Niggers want to act violently

Niggers act so coooool and slick

Causing white people to say:

What makes you niggers act like that?

Niggers act like you ain't never seen nobody act before

But when it comes to acting out revolution

Niggers say: 'I can't dig them actions!'

Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers are very untogether people

Niggers talk about getting high and riding around in 'els'

Niggers should get high and ride to hell

Niggers talk about pimping

Pimping that, pimping what

Pimping yours, pimping mine

Just to be pimping, is a helluva line

Niggers are very untogether people

Niggers talk about the mind

Talk about: My mind is stronger than yours

"I got that bitch's mind uptight!"

Niggers don't know a damn thing about the mind

Or they'd be right

Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers fuck. Niggers fuck, fuck, fuck

Niggers love the word fuck

They think it's so fuckin' cute

They fuck you around

The first thing they say when they're mad: 'Fuck it'

You play a little too much with them

They say 'Fuck you'

When it's time to TCB

Niggers are somewhere fucking

Try to be nice to them, they fuck over you

Niggers don't realize while they doin' all this fucking

They're getting fucked around

And when they do realize it's too late

So niggers just get fucked up

Niggers talk about fucking

Fuckin' that, fuckin' this, fuckin' yours, fuckin' my sis

Not knowing what they're fucking for

They ain't fucking for love and appreciation

Just fucking to be fucking

Niggers fuck white thighs, black thighs, yellow thighs, brown thighs

Niggers fuck ankles when they run out of thighs

Niggers fuck Sally, Linda, and Sue

And if you don't watch out

Niggers will fuck you!

Niggers would fuck 'Fuck' if it could be fucked

But when it comes to fucking for revolutionary causes

Niggers say 'Fuck revolution!'

Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers are players, niggers are players, are players

Niggers play football, baseball and basketball

While the white man cuttin' off their balls

When the nigger's play ain't tight enough

To play with some black thighs

Niggers play with white thighs

To see if they still have some play left

And when there ain't no white thighs to play with

Niggers play with themselves

Niggers tell you they're ready to be liberated

But when you say 'Let's go take our liberation'

Niggers reply: 'I was just playin'

Niggers are playing with revolution and losing

Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers do a lot of shootin'

Niggers do a lot of shootin'

Niggers shoot off at the mouth

Niggers shoot pool, niggers shoot craps

Niggers cut around the corner and shoot down the street

Niggers shoot sharp glances at white women

Niggers shoot dope into their arm

Niggers shoot guns and rifles on New Year's Eve

A new year that is coming in

The white police will do more shooting at them

Where are niggers when the revolution needs some shots!?

Yeah, you know. Niggers are somewhere shootin' the shit

Niggers are scared of revolution

Niggers are lovers, niggers are lovers are lovers

Niggers love to see Clark Gable

Make love to Marilyn Monroe

Niggers love to see Tarzan fuck all the natives

Niggers love to hear the Lone Ranger yell "Heigh Ho Silver!"

Niggers love commercials, niggers love commercials

Oh how niggers love commercials:

"You can take niggers out of the country, but

You can't take the country out of niggers"

Niggers are lovers, are lovers, are lovers

Niggers loved to hear Malcolm rap

But they didn't love Malcolm

Niggers love everything but themselves

But I'm a lover too, yes I'm a lover too

I love niggers, I love niggers, I love niggers

Because niggers are me

And I should only love that which is me

I love to see niggers go through changes

Love to see niggers act

Love to see niggers make them plays and shoot the shit

But there is one thing about niggers I do not love

Niggers are scared of devolution

When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes some of us will probably catch it on TV, with chicken hanging from our mouths. You'll know its revolution cause there won't be no commercials

When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

Preacher pimps are gonna split the scene with the communion wine stuck in their back pockets

Faggots won’t be so funny then and all the junkies will quit their noddin’ and wake up When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

Transit cops will be crushed by the trains after losing their guns and blood will run through the streets of Harlem drowning anything without substance

When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

Our pearly white teeth froth the mouths that speak of revolution without reverence

The cost of revolution is 360 degrees understand the cycle that never ends

Understand the beginning to be the end and nothing is in between but space and time that I make or you make to relate or not to relate to the world outside my mind your mind. Speak not of revolution until you are willing to eat rats to survive

When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes; guns and rifles will be taking the place of poems and essays. Black cultural centers will forts supplying the revolutionaries with food and arms when the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

White death will froth the walls of museums and churches breaking the lies that enslaved our mothers when the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

Jesus Christ is gonna be standing on the corner of Lennox Ave and 125th St trying to catch the first gypsy cab out of Harlem, when the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

Jew merchants will give away motza balls and gifilka fish to anyone they see with afros. Frank Shieffin will give away the Apollo to the first person he sees wearing a blue dashiki, when the revolution comes

When the revolution comes afros gone be trying to straighten their heads and straightened heads gone be tryin to wear afros

When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

When the revolution comes

But until then you know and I know niggers will party and bullshit and party and bullshit and party and bullshit and party and bullshit and party...

Some might even die before the revolution comes