SAUL WILLIAMS
[MUSICIAN, POET]

One of the foremost progressive lyricists of hip-hop, Saul Williams began reciting entries from his journal in 1995 at the Nuyorcian Poets Café, the Lower East Side venue known for its celebration of poetry made aloud and alive where, as its founder Miguel Algarín remarked, “The poem began to leap off the page and become the thing itself – words were becoming action.” Distinguished among the nation’s top performance poets for his sprawling lyrics rich with esoteric imagery, Williams considers the relationship between sound, silence, consciousness and the incantatory power of the spoken word. Since 2001, when he began transposing his poetics from open mics to soundscapes, he has collaborated with such leading architects of contemporary pop music as Rick Rubin, Janelle Monáe and Trent Reznor. Williams recently toured North America in support of his latest album, Volcanic Sunlight (2011). We spoke backstage in Montréal.
—William Fitzpatrick

THE BELIEVER: You’ve said that your experience in theater taught you to be an empty vessel.

SAUL WILLIAMS: The thing we appreciate in an actor is their presence. When you think of a James Earl Jones – or even a Jack Nicholson, there’s tons of them – who, when they come out and speak at an awards ceremony or something you go, Wow, they really have a strong presence. 

Presence. Being. To be present. I am. It’s being. And what I learned from theater is that we act in order to become. It’s the highest compliment we pay someone in a performance. Like, Jamie Foxx is – is, the operative word: has become – is – present-tense – is Ray Charles. And when you change that as to is then you’ve done the thing as an actor that you aim to do: you’ve become. 

BLVR: In the introduction to your book of poetry, Said the Shotgun to the Head (2003), you write that it was inspired by a kiss – “not just lustful petting but transcendental metamorphosis.” In the acknowledgements, you write that Allen Ginsberg kissed you and taught you the power of chanting Om three weeks before he died.

SW: Talk about presence. 

I met him one night. I met him one night, at a poetry reading at NYU and I spent the evening backstage with him. That’s always a cool way to meet people actually.

BLVR: Said the pot to the kettle.

SW: [laughs] Yeah, I’ve been able to have some really nice conversations with some wonderful people in this sort of environment. And this is how I met Ginsberg. 

That...