Poetship in Actors’ Shakespeare Project’s Seven Guitars
Poetship (po· et· ship, ˈpōə̇tˌship): the state or function of a poet
How many times have you heard the phrase “I love all music except rap?”
This phrase tends to get parroted at an early stage in one’s life, at the moment when we are beginning to develop a sense of our own taste. At this juncture, it’s often parroted less out of a genuine belief, and more out of the desire to follow a crowd. We see people say rap is sexist, or dumb, or sleazy, and we nod along because it looks that way from afar. But is it? Do those sentiments prove true when we actually take the time to listen, to look up the lyrics on Genius, to attempt a song at karaoke and realize just how much skill it takes to perform? I’ve written before about how powerful and beautiful the genre of rap can be, but it always bears repeating: the notion that rap is a lesser form of music is just another symptom of racism. In fact, rap is arguably the most intelligent genre of music there is. To be a rapper, one must excel at linguistics, rhythm, wit, and pace all at the same time — the same set of skills August Wilson demonstrates in Seven Guitars.
Seven Guitars, one of 10 plays in August Wilson’s Pittsburgh Cycle, is the second production in Actors’ Shakespeare Project’s 2022–23 season. Describing the plot of the piece proves difficult, not because it’s overly complicated or hard to follow, but because “tensions between a budding musician, a butcher, and their community” undersells the richness of the dynamic an audience member is in for. What makes Seven Guitars great is not knowing right away and watching it unfold piece by piece, line by line, note by note. And all the while the cast literally makes the script sing. Much of the script is written in AAVE, a vital piece of African American identity and a joyride for the ears, especially when paired with multiple musical breaks and expert dialect work. Johnnie Mack’s turn as Hedley is made all the more raw and haunting by the stark contrast between his Ethiopian accent and the quick-moving tones of his Pittsburgh-native peers. Not only do the cast of Seven Guitars carry Wilson’s words beautifully, they challenge us to really and truly listen.
The venue partnered with ASP is Hibernian Hall, right across from West African restaurant Suya Joint. It’s a smaller, more intimate venue than one typically expects for a play, but one that couldn’t be a better home for the piece. The set by Jon Savage is excellently understated, suggesting exactly what it needs to while providing a diversity in levels that engages the eye. The eye is further engaged with period costuming by Nia Safarr Banks under Amanda E. Fallon’s nostalgic, dreamy lighting. As a whole, the design team understands their role perfectly: they are the chorus of “I’m good” under Chance the Rapper’s “Good Ass Intro.” they are the beat to Wilson’s lyrics.
A lot of teachers jump to call Shakespeare “one of the greatest rappers in history,” and while that may just be an attempt to connect with students, it’s truer than it sounds. Kids have trouble connecting with Shakespeare because, like rap music, he is easily misunderstood. His work feels stuffy and alienating because it takes work to comprehend. But up close, it becomes clear that Shakespeare had a deep-rooted understanding of what words are, what they mean, how they come together, and how they can shape our steps forward. ASP has proven multiple times that the bard is still relevant, but with this latest production, they’ve proven that Wilson falls under that same relevancy. Perhaps the same may be true for Baraka, or Kennedy, or Parks; I challenge ASP to see for themselves, and I look forward to whatever may come.
