Poet to Poet: Sonia Sanchez interviews Jill Scott

Who is Jill Scott? Poet to poet, woman to woman, heart to heart—the consummate artist connects with the emerging singer—songwriter as they ponder life, love and herstory – Interview
Essence, Jan, 2002 by Sonia Sanchez

Her first CD asks the question, Who Is Jill Scott? Indeed, as I travel on Amtrak from Philadelphia to a New York City hotel. where she is staying while rehearsing for Michael Jackson’s thirtieth-anniversary tribute, I collect my memories of this young woman called Jill Scott. I know that, at age 29, this sister from North Philadelphia has already sold 2 million albums, released a live double CD–aptly titled Experience: Jill Scott (826+)–and moved folks to dance ill the aisles and sing along as she performs her “words and sounds” onstage.

I recall our last conversation on a plane from Jamaica one Monday morning last August. She had retreated to the island after a fast and furious year of travel and gigs. She said, “Sister Sonia, I had to rest. I had to go someplace warm and lock myself in a room and sleep past songs and stages and airplanes and work.” Then she smiled her exquisite shy smile, beamed at me and said, “You know, my sister, I tried semester after semester to get into your creative-writing class at Temple University. It was always oversubscribed and closed out the first week.” I responded, “You should have knocked on the door, bogarded your way on in, girl. What a welcome addition you would have been to any class of mine! In fact, I asked only one question of any student trying to get into my class: Do you really love this thing called poetry? If the answer was yes, I let them come on in.”

I remember Jill from her years as a student at Temple. I remember her reading at regular Philly gatherings with Ursula Rucker, Rich Medina and Trateta B. Mayson. She was part of a stunning outburst of young poets who held their own in Philadelphia, reciting poems, humming songs, rapping lyrics that rocked the room and the city. They were live, on-time, exciting and on a mission to be heard.

Today as I enter Jill’s hotel room, she greets me barefooted in a brown caftan that mixes with her almond-colored skin. She extends her arms and smiles widely, and as we hug I think: I know Jill Scott. She is pot liquor and cornbread. She is caviar and champagne. She is a blues song and a spiritual. She is Nina, Leontyne, Sarah, Aretha. I look up at her and I see Truth Seeker. Teacher. Sister. Artist. Anointing us with her twenty-first-century words. As we begin our conversation, I lean back on the fullness of her breath and conjure up her songs that make us love ourselves in spite of ourselves. Jill Scott, a young woman living on the cusp of time, abundant with love. Jill Scott, ornate with jazz and soul, carrying the quiet urgency of a star.

Sonia Sanchez: I think I remember, sister Jill, reading someplace that you and your mother used to listen to your grandmother’s humming. Why is humming so much a part of our living and learning process as Black women? And at 29, have you arrived near that place your grandmother occupies?

Jill Scott: Well, my grandmother is 84 years old. She comes from a different era, a different time, and she’s telling her story without saying any words. She would hum while she cooked and cleaned. But more important, she would hum and sing praises. She would sing about her color, how brown she was. She would sing about how thankful she was for her hands and feet. She would pray in song. To have someone at that age, with that kind of herstory, be able to express herself with so much passion without words is a kind of wealth that you can’t put any price on. Sometimes when I sing, I get close to that place of hers. Then I can go deep, deep into the history of who we are as a people, that kind of way-down-deep-in-the-pelvic-bone singing. That kind of singing is not singing. It’s something that I don’t know if I could even put into words. It’s a spirit talk.

Sanchez: It is spirit talk and it’s confident, isn’t it? It’s a good beginning to talk about grandmothers because when we talk about grandmothers, we talk about our herstory, about Black women who have made a place for us, a way for us. When you sing do you hear your grandmother’s voice?

Scott: I hear my grandmother’s voice, I hear my voice, I hear Mahalia Jackson’s voice, I hear Leontyne Price’s voice. Sister Price’s voice reminds me very much of the wind–how wistful, how easy, how strong it can be all at the same time. When I first heard her voice, I knew she was a Black woman because she had that same spirit talk in her voice that my grandmother has when she sings. And when I heard her I thought, I can do that. I know it’s here inside me. I just have to find it.

Sanchez: And that’s why it’s so important to have you onstage. You authenticate yourself and your audience. You say, “This can be done,” as you turn and extend your heart and soul to them, Do you feel the power that you give your audience?

Scott: Well, we live in a society that says you have to be thin, you have to have a certain kind of hair and you have to have these expensive clothes to be considered attractive. Intelligence is third or fourth. My intent has been to show myself completely and not hide behind the masks of fancy clothing, a lot of makeup, lots of jewelry. I don’t want to hide behind any of those things. I want to be just who I am. Sometimes I win and sometimes I fail.

Sanchez: Sometimes you may do something onstage and it may not work. You dare to do something that doesn’t work, and you say a mental oops, but you go on, you continue. What do you think about your failures?

Scott: You’ve got to try it. That’s how you innovate. That’s how you find new things. You can’t put a cap on your soul and just say, “Okay, that’s it.” There’s always something else. That’s why I have a live band. They play from their souls more often than not, and I say to them, “Follow me. Support me.” These are the things I need musically. Wherever I’m going they say: “Oh, check that out. She’s going over here. All right. I got something for her.” So we have fun every night because I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Sanchez: I have seen you perform and I’ve seen your improvisational side, but you need good musicians to back you up, right? I’ve performed with jazz musicians and they have the genius to say, “If you go there we know how to get there with you, and we’ll also take you places you’ve never even imagined.”

Scott: It was the same with my record producers and musicians [on Who Is Jill Scott? Words & Sounds, Vol. I]. I spoke to them about my songs in terms of color. I said, “That song is very blue, navy-blue, dark-blue, sky-blue, deep, black night-blue.” Because they had played with Roy Ayers and Anita Baker and Aretha Franklin, they knew the sound of my colors. They knew the places where sound and color mixed to become one–become music.

Sanchez: As a singer, did you have any formal training or did you just begin knowing that you wanted to sing?

Scott: I’ve had very little formal training, but I did listen. I love a good stow. I listened to the singers who had a story to tell, and I felt their pain and glow, all at the same time. Sarah Vaughan does that for me. Wow! Donny Hathaway does that also. And Minnie Riperton–oh, boy, can she ever do that. At 14 I was out there listening to their songs. And I listened to how they told their stories, how authentic the stories were in the course of their songs, where the music resides. And of course, there was Leontyne Price. With her it was a combination of church and opera. A regal combination.

Sanchez: Spirit coming out of a cathedral and a Black church.

Scott: Yes, all at the same time. And to me, it meant that opera was accessible; it was something I could do. Why? Because Leontyne Price does it, and she’s magnificent. Later on there was Kathleen Battle–such a young and beautiful and vibrant woman with this huge voice. I said, “I can do this, too.” So I listened and I went to a class that included all that I needed to learn. I wanted to learn voice techniques, how to breathe. I wanted to learn how to use the tools, but I didn’t want them to take over and crush the spirit.

Sanchez: You’ve also done some acting and you’ve been in some plays haven’t you?

Scott: About five years ago my friend Ozzie Jones told me that I should act. I told him “No way,” but he insisted and sent me some scripts. I finally did a script reading for him, and that’s how I got into acting. I already was frustrated with what I was doing. I was working in a clothing store, and I was at Temple University studying to be a high school English teacher. I quit everything! School, my job, everything. Ozzie told me about an apprenticeship at a theater company, and I gave it a shot. Eventually I landed the role of Seasons of Love in the Canadian version of Rent.

Sanchez: Do you see yourself as an artist and singer all your life?

Scott: There are more arenas to be explored. There may be some arenas that come before singer. Before poet. Before woman. It may be on different tiers that I don’t know or quite understand yet, and I’m comfortable with that. I think it’s important in this day and time to be multifaceted, to be able to do many things. My mother is the kind of woman who can fry some fish and then put up some drywall. I get a lot of that from her. I have no idea where I’m going to go tomorrow or what I’m going to do or what I’m going to see, and I love it.

Sanchez: So you’re open to all things? New things?

Scott: Yes, wide open. I love to sing. I truly do. I appreciate my own voice. I love to hear it. I love how I can play with it. It really makes me happy. Sometimes when you’re writing, it will start as a poem, become a story, transform itself into a screenplay and finally end up as a novel. And I’m amazed at how it’s transformed. I feel like it is doing all the work. I’m just the vessel for all these wonderful songs and poems. And then I think, What next? Am I going to be a hairdresser tomorrow? Am I going to eventually own a school that I’ve dreamed about? Where Sonia Sanchez comes in and teaches a class and rapper KRS-One talks about writing? Where The Roots’ drummer ?uestlove comes in and talks about the drum? That’s the kind of school I envision for my students and me. A place where we discuss our work ethic and have a never-say-die mentality. A place that says hold on and never give up, even when everybody says you can’t do it. Yeah. I have no idea what’s going to happen in my life. And I’m okay with that. I’m really cool with it.

Sanchez: Have you been writing during this fast-moving period of travel and gigs?

Scott: I’ve written, I would say, most of my second, third and fourth albums. It’s just a matter of getting all the music together. But I need a vacation. I need to get away from all this for a while. We talked about that, Sister Sonia, about trying to deal with being recognized, alive and out there in the world. We talked about those things on the flight from Jamaica last summer. I’m still trying to work my way through what being a celebrity means. I’m going to be honest; sometimes I don’t feel like being bothered at all. I’m an only child. I come from being able to go into my room, close the door and stay alone for as long as I want to. My family has always respected my alone time.

Sanchez: When I listen to your voice it’s like the singing coming off the drums. It’s old and ancient, young and new, you keep us here but you hint of a past.

Scott: I feel very old and very young. I feel like a child who’s seeing the world for the first time, that every day is fresh and brand new. But there is a part of human nature that I think I understand because I like to watch people. Sometimes when I look at people, I can see where they were before this life. I met a young man at a poetry reading and told him, “I know you. We used to play a game with a hoop and a stick. Do you remember?” And he really, you know, just thought I was out of it. But when I saw him I could see myself barefoot; I could see myself very brown.

I could see myself with a stick. I was running. He was running. And we were laughing. That man got away from me as fast as he could. Not everybody. Not every day. Not all the time. Just sometimes I will see something. I haven’t put a finger on that yet. I don’t want to call it anything.

Sanchez: Don’t. There’s so much naming out there.

Scott: And it limits what you do. So I won’t name it.

Sanchez: What experiences have formed you, had an impact on your work?

Scott: I am fully aware that everything that has happened in the course of my life–like being hit by a car when I was 8 years old–all the little things and the big things have led me right here sitting next to you. Being in the eighth grade and reading Sonia Sanchez and Nikki Giovanni and thinking Wow, I can do that, too. That was a beginning. Having Miss Danish as my English teacher, a White woman, sharp as she knew how to be. She wore fur coats to school every day. And for recess she’d paint my nails because I did well on the spelling bee. All of those things. Thinking I was going to be an English teacher. Meeting Ozzie Jones, who offered me my first play. Not only my first play but also my first gig as an actor–as an equity actor. Everything has been directed whether I could see it or understand it or not.

Sanchez: What do you see in your eyes?

Scott: I see a child laughing, just laughing. I see myself at 5. There’s still so much wonderment and confusion and knowing.

Sanchez: What do you see behind your eyes.

Scott: Quiet. There’s quiet there. Very relaxed. And it’s not black at all. There’s yellow. Very happy, bright, laughing yellow. There’s burgundy. Rich and full-mouthed burgundy. There’s sky-blue, there’s peach. There’s gray, stormy days. Purple. I see a queen. A king. People call people kings and queens quite easily. I don’t think everyone is a king or a queen. I don’t know if I’m a queen but I’m definitely regal. I come from a solid family, a family that’s been respected. And I don’t necessarily mean my blood kin. I feel that Sarah Vaughan is regal, that she has to be my aunt; that Langston Hughes was somebody I hung out with. I feel akin to the writers and exciters, the people who put themselves out on the front line, let their thoughts and their hearts be known to the world. I feel akin to them. I feel very related to Martin Luther King, Jr. He died on my birthday, April 4, four years before I was born.

Sanchez: Are there concerns and questions you think artists must raise?

Scott: It comes with this gift, this life I’ve been given. I didn’t have to be given this life, but I have been and I’m grateful. I’m so appreciative of all of it. And it didn’t have to be this way. Growing up in North Philadelphia at a time when Rizzo was mayor and gang fights were daily occurrences. Someone was always getting shot, killed or stabbed. I watched the transition from being able to play outside to the arrival of the crackheads. Then we went inside. I watched guys I knew as young boys become drug dealers. And their cars got real fancy and their girls got fancier. I watched all of that. That’s why I still like to be invisible, because I’m able to watch everything. Onstage I definitely want people to hear me. I want to be present so I can talk to an audience about what I’m thinking. But on the street I want to be invisible. I want to watch so that I can come back and report and say, “Look, this is what’s going on. What are we going to do about this? Are we planning on making any changes? Do we want to make any changes? Are we just going to screw one another? What are we going to do about the drugs, the poverty, the children? What do you think?” I definitely want to raise the questions.

Sanchez: Do you sing soul music?

Scott: Just like I don’t believe I should be put in any boxes, I don’t think soul music should be put in any boxes. It’s not just love songs or painful songs. Soul music is/can be rock or hip-hop or classical. It can be any genre of music. Not just blues or lovemaking, let’s-get-down music. The prerequisite is that you have to be completely naked to perform it, you know. Naked. It’s mandatory.

You can’t sing soul music and think about the kettle you left on the stove or those shoes that don’t match. That’s probably why my style is so comfortable because I need to be naked. I need to be comfortable. I need to feel relaxed. And I am calling out to all the musicians, singers and writers to truly write, to truly sing. I really believe that the artists should speak loudly about what’s happening in the world because when they share their experiences, the people know they’re not alone, that they’re not the only ones who were foolish for a moment. That’s one of the things I’ve always appreciated about Aretha Franklin. She had the ability to be strong. She said, “I need respect,” but at the same time she said, “You know, I’m a fool, and I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve been a fool.” That’s the magic of soul music. Yeah. As poets this is what we do. We look at the world, we cut it open, we dissect it. We examine every particle, every molecule. We’re searching for truth and even still we go deeper, deeper than atoms. It’s important. It reminds us of our humanity.

Sanchez: Artists keep the rest of the world human too.

Scott: Yes.

Sanchez: An African proverb says: The king fears only the poet. Thank God for the poets.

Scott: I thank God for you.

Sanchez: And you, for continuing this thing called poetry.

Scott: And you, there to tell me to continue. How about that? Life is a circle.

Poet Sonia Sanchez is professor emeritus at Temple University. Her most recent books are Shake Loose My Skin and Does Your House Have Lions? (Beacon Press). Chat with Jill on January 16 and enter a contest to win her double CD. Go to essence.com for more details.

On page 84, writer and poet Sonia Sanchez helps us answer the question, “Who Is Jill Scott?” in our fresh take on the one-on-one interview. “I was smiling when I left her,” Sanchez says about the rap session with her sister poet. “I was thinking, Yes, it’s good to see our young people continue this great tradition of genius.”

COPYRIGHT 2002 Essence Communications, Inc.
COPYRIGHT 2002 Gale Group