Customer Reviews

Crowdpleaser

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A lot of people seem to smooth over the "poet" part of "performance poetry," but this book from the seminal Chicago poet who created the poetry slam is an interesting, and moving, piece of work. Smith is a master poet for the working stiffs and blue collar classes, a poet whose work reads on two different levels--as great, entertaining story tellling and as in imprint of a current running through American Culture. Read this book, buy this book, and gove the Slampappi his due.

SLAM founder Marc Smith delivers a classic collection of stories and poetry. This limited edtion book is an underground collector's item with amazing artwork.

Mark Smith is a great poet and the king of slam. This Chicagoland native is great

Marc Smith singlehandedly reignited performance poetry as a popular art form. I've heard him read, and he reads with intensity. Unfortunately, his collection of poetry, "Crowdpleaser" holds little of the energy his performances do.

"Crowdpleaser" comes across as self-indulgent, self-conscious, stream-of-conscious prosiac poetry-talk. I was not impressed at this Beat Generation imitation. I've heard better poetry in college town coffeehouse open-mikes. Kerouac and Ginsberg both survive being published in print form. They did not rely on shock or profanity for its own sake, giving the reader rich images and philosophical depth Smith does not. Smith's poems sound like mimics of Walt Whitman or Ginsberg, but without the originality to even make them entertaining parodies.

He flops from strong image to overstated emotion. Granted, those who love poetry drawn from emotive prose will love "Crowdpleaser," and will take me to task, but I think this poetic effort falls flat.

Lines like "You don't even know what a real poem is!/You wouldn't know a real poem if it hit you in the face!" using boldface and CAPS comes across sophomoric at best, and low-brow teenage diary angst at worst.

There are a few shining phrases in this collection of urban verse. His poem "Watching secretly from the stair" has more than cliche in his sentimental recollection of watching his daughter lip-synching.

"Pupils fierce and flaming hair--
Mute she sings,
Arms outstretched,
A last scratched note."

He provides introductions for many of his poems, and for those who follow the poetry slam scene might find this intriguing. The pen drawings in the book provide a romanticized view of the slam scene, but have a interesting accuracy.

Anthony Trendl