Wearing a denim jacket and a billowy blue skirt, local poet Tara Manor climbed up the tall stage at Downtown's swanky Ice House Lounge, and introduced herself:
"Contrary to popular belief, my name is Bliss
A diamond in the rough,
I'm tough, a gem, a rare stone,
Clap for me, niggas, I'm home."
And clap they did last weekend, this well-heeled, mostly black crowd. In a desert city being pummeled by a summer heat wave, the only thing some residents want more than air conditioning, or a cold front, or lots of water, is culture. Or, culture of a particular kind, one that can engage the mind, intellectually and sensually. Culture you don't find enough of in the city. Culture that makes you feel like you've come home.
"To us, poetry today is where hip-hop was in the '70s or '80s," says Kenya Henderson, the COO of Untamed Entertainment, sponsor of the Untamed Tongues Poetry Lounge. "We're trying to be the Russell Simmons of poetry and take this to the top."
Of course, given the success of the HBO series Russell Simmons Presents Def Poetry, the rap mogul himself may already be the Russell Simmons of poetry. Still, spoken- word poetry is not often used in the same sentence as Las Vegas, so there's plenty of room for Untamed Tongues to find a rhythm. The poetry set is the brainchild of local poet Warrick Roundtree, who wants to provide an alternative to the clubs and gambling that are the primary leisure options for young, urban-leaning Las Vegans.
"Vegas needs this horribly," says Roundtree. "Vegas doesn't have anything near this."
In past years poets would meet once a month at The Poets Corner on the city's west side. The readings were by and for the poets themselves, and the audiences were dedicated but small. Roundtree couldn't attract those who were looking for something on top of just poetry. So in February 2004, Roundtree and his partners, his wife Takicha and Henderson, launched Untamed Tongues and put a bit of Las Vegas showmanship into spoken word—theirs became a place to see and be seen, to drink, to network, to listen to poetry and live DJs in an atmosphere that can be thought of as heightened chill.
Since last year's launch, Untamed Poetry has moved from M&M Soul Food Restaurant to Sweet Georgia Browns to the Ice House. The shows have grown from 80 people to several hundred, and from monthly engagements to quarterly, in a bid to draw even bigger crowds and make each show more of an event. (The next poetry night will be October 22.)
In a world that values style over substance, spoken-word poetry is something of an antidote. It presents lyrically adventurous work in a no-frills wrapper. Poets come to the mike and throw down verbal barrages, both political and romantic, like rappers touched with the spirit of John Coltrane. Over the years spoken word has evolved into an art form that can match the hard-edged content of the most socially-minded newspaper columnists as well as produce imagery of the flesh that is more vivid than all but the wildest nights at your local strip club.
Last weekend's show featured a trio of local poets, as well as a poet from Chicago and a DJ and headliner from Miami. Love was the main theme, and the poems ran the gamut from pleas for self love to heartfelt odes that reached across gender lines to heal the wounds between men and women, to vigorously sexual poems, to fierce reminders of why those wounds exist in the first place.
Headliner Will Bell, a.k.a. Will Da Real One, wore the casual clothes of a rapper, along with a glittering watch and a blinding diamond cross. "The bling is a gimmick," he says softly, a way to grab the attention of young listeners who might only respond to displays of wealth. A product of Liberty City, the heart of black Miami, Bell spent years working for the Florida health department before he turned to spoken word three and a half years ago. Last year he won a world poetry slam championship in Canada, competing against a field of more than 20 top-ranked poets. These were guys who would fly in with assistants carrying their mike stands. "I don't think they saw me coming," says Bell, who traveled alone and stayed at the YMCA.
He describes his work as being testimonial, and he wowed the crowd with poems about answering his cousin's call for help after being shot at, trying take a prostitute off of Miami's rain-soaked streets and his own rebirth as a poet.
"Twenty years ago rap was being force-fed to the world and the world was fighting it every step of the way," he says. But with a sense among the Untamed crowd that rap has lost its appetite for intellectually nuanced, spiritually probing content, spoken word may be poised to fill the vacuum. "We've already passed the fad stage."
If Untamed Tongues can get to the fad stage here in Las Vegas, spoken word might have a chance in Sin City. Roundtree's goal is to bring the cultured vibe of spoken word onto the Strip at House of Blues.
"If they keep on building it up," says Bliss, "it's going to be a beast they can't contain."