L-R: Suheir Hammad, Beau Sia, and Georgia Me in 'Russell Simmons Def Poetry Jam on Broadway'

Back in 1991, something strange was happening late at night on HBO. Black comedians were performing live in front of largely black audiences and telling jokes that most white folks had never been exposed to. Unedited and unrestrained, these comics introduced things like anger, sex and violence, in ways previously ignored, to sizeable cable audiences. This wasn't Sinbad's stand up. Today, there is little shocking about such comedians, and Russell Simmons' Def Comedy Jam on HBO can be thanked for this, having helped propel the careers of Martin Laurence, Chris Tucker, Steve Harvey, Jamie Fox, Cedric the Entertainer, Bernie Mac, and Bill Bellamy. Still, this is only a taste of Simmons' influence on our culture.

In the early '80s, Simmons had introduced Run DMC and Kurtis Blow to an unsuspecting America and went on to form the hit factory Def Jam Records in '85, along with partner and Run DMC deejay, Jam Master Jay (recently deceased). That label produced such massive acts as L.L. Cool J, DMX (speaking of loud people), Method Man, Ja Rule and Jay-Z. In fact, for thirty years, Simmons has consistently introduced entertainers who don't wholly sit easy in everyone's ears. His Def Poetry Jam is no exception.

Tendaji Lethan, deejay and master of ceremonies at Def Poetry Jam on Broadway, steps onto the stage and takes his audience back about thirty years, spinning tracks all the way from "Sexual Healing" (Marvin Gaye) and "For the Love of Money" (The O'Jays) to "Fu-Gee-La" (Fugees). Lethan transforms his turntables into a time machine and takes an enthusiastic crowd on a musical history ride. Dressed for church or a night out, audience members are ready for sermon or song and receive both.

Other sounds of the evening include Biggie Smalls, Jay-Z, Bob Marley, Sam Cooke, Ludacris, Outkast, Amy Mann, Dr. Dre and Tito Puente; all projected onto the surreal background of a city street-scene. It's on this stage that the poets perform, along side Lethan, who spins throughout the evening.

L-R: Poetri and Steve Colman in 'Russell Simmons Def Poetry Jam on Broadway'

For those seeking the vitalization of that acute awareness of word and style, Def Poetry Jam will supply it through nine poets who spit their rap onto the mike (and I do mean spit – be wary of sitting front and center).

So why is slam poetry so powerful? It is not too far from rap. A few poets even refer to rappers as their predecessors and inspiration. It isn't the freshness of this medium. It has been around for years. These slammers do things that no rappers (at least on CD) do today. They force eye contact and they don't give a damn if you agree with what they're saying. For the two-hour performance, you're theirs and you're going to get an earful. While straddling the border between rap and poetry, the overall absence of melody makes this a challenging pill to swallow. There is no ignoring words for music here. Of course, you could listen solely to the delicious rhythms of the verse, but these talented young poets do their best to mix things up and make sure you hear what they are saying. And so we find Simmons stopping a diverse audience in its tracks once again.

So who are our revolutionary leaders, and what do they have to say? Let us get past some of the heavy-handed comments concerning 9/11 and Leonard Peltier. The real meat of their verse deals with many of our most pressing problems: obesity, self-absorption, apathy, free expression, poverty, government, commercialism, identity, and love. Okay, so these issues aren't revolutionary, but the clarity with which they are presented is.

Georgia Me, a voluptuous slammer, addresses her figure in "Fat Girls Blues." Stayceyann Chin depicts Pinky and the Brain as revolutionaries, Bert and Ernie as straight, and then goes on to claim that our lives are often shorter than we expect – introducing an audience to the oscillation between the banal and the exhilarating, the comic and the somber. Poetri discusses his identity issues in one rap and the Krispy Kreme Konspiracy in another. Others, like the energetic Beau Sia and the direct Black Ice, provide a full palette of stage presence for the crowd.

In one of the most interesting moments of the evening, Black Ice contemplates what it is to be black (somewhat reminiscent of Richard Priors' bit without the comedy). His conclusions on the music industry and stereotypes are powerful, if not wholly popular. But his words do resonate: "America makes opportunists of us all... rap is the new crack...."

One of the favorite flavors of the evening is Mayda Del Valle's mama-making-mambo "In the Cocina" number whose ode to Tito and home cooking stir up all sorts of passion. You see, not all is preach and mind. Some of the verse is admittedly self-serving and some is said just for a smile.

This performance also included a tribute to the late Jam Master Jay, for which DJ Lathan silenced his tables and then released Marley's "Redemption Song."

In short, the spoken word is a revolutionary medium, not because of what is said, but because it requires listening. It is about the absolute attention that these voices and ideas demand. If you think you can handle clever rhymes and powerful personalities, Broadway is once again the place to be. Def Poetry Jam is well worth seeing just to bask in its vitality.