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Major Jackson
I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown so many times I witnessed it. No, I felt it. A young trumpet player was a raw need to hear the notes in her head played at the speed in which she feels them. Or the rapper whose delight is wordplay to the nth degree but even more locates the cypher so deep within that the joy is not cleverness but the way the atmosphere changes when his rhymes hit the air. Or the modern dancer striking moves with such force we in the crowd feel concentric waves of energy pulsate to our seats, equally so the actor who delivers their lines so convincingly. Parts of ourselves are reawakened. I used to believe great art emerged from intense passion, a committed discipline driven by a purity of purpose. Of late I use the word hunger as a measure of art, as an aesthetic value, hunger as that inexplicable quality that conveys the artist's works as their unique form of living, how they breathe, where creation is existence. When I read a poem of such power, articulation and image making, I close the book thinking the writer had no other choice. The poem came into the world out of a voracious need. Even in the quietest of poems, set in a forest or garden, I hear an intense longing for solitude, for evidence of our connection to something larger than ourselves on this subject. Today's poem is unapologetic. Its rhythms are bound up in the speaker's self worth and their massive feelings. With such depth of cadence, repetition and emotion, I cannot help but be moved. Playback by Lauren Camp Let there be footfall and car door. Let me be finished with fire. Let the man get on a plane for his morning departure, erasing each reverie. Soon there will be only daylight, maybe a blue envelope torn, maybe bracelets of color from the petunias. I will need to know how to recover the familiar, how to open the door in the evening, how to again lock it. Almost everything about me goes unspoken but commas and colons. I live with this heart rate multiple times, its direction, its tempo, my 4, 4 with acceleration, sometimes tuned to an alternate signature. Think of Brubeck's Take five. Those blocky chords were the result of an accident Dead on arrival, they said, after he smashed to the surf. Think how he switched it around, made his hands do what he wanted to hear. And forgive me the analogy May I never rush a surge for a better experience. Every Sunday all over the country apologies gather When I'm not in this small cottage unreacting I cascade sound and a few sentences from a cramped room to whoever will listen. I know some people think it is sinful to love such temptations But I stay with my face soft against microphone announcing my moral directions. Sometimes I'm convinced my blood needs all those crossings. I'm not after absolution the man I love taught me to want without Lyrics Remember I haven't gone anywhere I'm in a thirsty way, sort of possessive I shouldn't show you this side of myself Try to remember I'm also praised for my kindness we each need to learn to turn off some dreams so we can play hours without creases. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts on the web@arts.gov to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. And find us on Instagram atdowndownshow and blueskylowdownshow.org.
Slowdown Host
Happy National Poetry Month from all of us. At the Slowdown we celebrate National Poetry Month every April, but you rely on the Slowdown for inspiration and insight all year long. Today I'm asking you to give back by making a gift to the Slowdown. Support from listeners like you makes this podcast possible. Contribute today at slowdownshow. Org Donate or find the link in the show notes.
Major Jackson
Thank you.
Episode 1330: Playback by Lauren Camp
Release Date: April 10, 2025
Host: Major Jackson
Produced by: American Public Media in partnership with The Poetry Foundation
In this episode of The Slowdown, host Major Jackson delves deep into the intrinsic motivations that drive artists across various mediums. Jackson begins by reflecting on personal experiences with different art forms, emphasizing the profound connection between creators and their work. He articulates a nuanced perspective on what fuels artistic creation, transitioning from the traditional notion of "intense passion" to a more encompassing concept of "hunger."
“Of late I use the word hunger as a measure of art, as an aesthetic value, hunger as that inexplicable quality that conveys the artist's works as their unique form of living, how they breathe, where creation is existence.” (02:10)
Jackson illustrates this idea by recounting encounters with a young trumpet player, a deeply engaged rapper, a forceful modern dancer, and a convincing actor. Each artist, in Jackson's view, exhibits a voracious need to express and connect, their creations emerging not merely from discipline but from an insatiable drive to communicate their inner landscapes.
Transitioning to the featured poem, Jackson introduces Lauren Camp's "Playback" as a work that embodies the unapologetic expression of self-worth and profound emotion. He highlights the poem's rhythmic complexity and emotional depth, noting how it resonates with the themes of hunger and existential longing he previously discussed.
“With such depth of cadence, repetition and emotion, I cannot help but be moved.” (03:45)
"Playback" navigates the intricate dance between external actions and internal states. The poem juxtaposes mundane activities—like a man boarding a plane—against the speaker's intense personal reflections and emotional turbulence. References to jazz musician Dave Brubeck's "Take Five" underscore themes of improvisation and the beauty derived from unexpected turns, mirroring the poem's own structural rhythm.
Key themes explored in the poem include:
Self-Awareness and Vulnerability: The speaker grapples with unspoken emotions and the complexities of personal relationships, striving to balance kindness with the desire to express deeper feelings.
Connection to Art and Life: Using musical metaphors, the poem illustrates how art serves as both a refuge and a means of navigating life's chaos.
Longing and Recovery: There's a persistent yearning to "recover the familiar" and find stability amidst change, reflecting a universal human experience.
Jackson underscores the poem's ability to convey a sense of urgency and profound introspection, likening the speaker's heartbeat to a musical tempo that drives the narrative forward.
“I live with this heart rate multiple times, its direction, its tempo, my 4, 4 with acceleration, sometimes tuned to an alternate signature.” (05:30)
As the episode draws to a close, Major Jackson celebrates National Poetry Month, inviting listeners to engage more deeply with poetry throughout the year. He emphasizes the collective inspiration and insight that The Slowdown aims to provide, encouraging support from the community to continue fostering this poetic journey.
“At the Slowdown we celebrate National Poetry Month every April, but you rely on the Slowdown for inspiration and insight all year long.” (06:24)
Jackson concludes with a heartfelt thank you, reinforcing the podcast's mission to be a daily ritual that offers calm, inspiration, and connection through the shared experience of poetry.
This episode beautifully encapsulates the essence of why we turn to art—it's not just creation, but a fundamental need to articulate our existence and connect with something greater.