by Cory Tracy

It don’t mean a thing…  

The musical continuum touches everyone’s life, whether we acknowledge it or not. I grew up listening to WBLM, but in middle and high school I got exposed to hip hop. My friends were into it, so I eventually came around. For a small city in Maine, Portland has an impressively active rap community. When I moved here, in 2008, I’d occasionally catch the headlining acts at Rap Night (this was back when the weekly shows were at The Big Easy). After my second or third time, I realized the best part of Rap Night was the open mike — the half hour at the beginning and end when they opened the stage to let anyone exercise their tongue and their mind. I’ve tried to attend every Rap Night ever since.

Rap Night is hosted by Ill by Instinct (Jesse Wagner), your Master of Ceremonies, with El Shupacabra (Nate Shupe) spinning the turntables. The first Rap Night was held on 9/10/2001, the night before the planes hit the towers, at Free Street Taverna (now The Dogfish). Back then, DJ Boondocks manned the controls and Jesse and Nate were just two friends with a mania for the music. In 2007 DJ Boondocks moved to California and passed control of Rap Night to Jesse and Nate. It’s undergone a few transitions since then, and now calls Aura home on every other Wednesday, but there’s still a strong sense of community and mutual support.

On July 12 the headliners were Eyenine and Sara Violette with Renee Coolbrith. Eyenine spits lyrics with the manic speed and intensity of a washing machine on spin cycle. Sara and Renee play off each other like the bad cop and the good. Sara’s style is relentless and insistent. She’s the older sister who’ll beat the piss out of you to teach you a lesson you need to learn (an experience I remember well). Renee presents a sweet temptation that you just know can’t really be good for you. The ladies weave their lyrical spells with precision and a power that makes you grateful for the pleasure of their presence.

Every other Monday night, my favorite little dungeon, Flask Lounge, offers Monday of the Minds, an event hosted by Stay on Mars (Zachary Mullen) that endeavors to celebrate the four elements of hip hop. The DJ behind the counter spins turntables and conjures demonic sounds from his laptop while a variety of MCs take turns spilling their souls on the mike. There’s always graffiti art on display and, though Flask doesn’t have a big dance floor, the b-boys can usually stake out enough floor space to wow the spectators with their supernatural breakdancing. I’m no able-bodied gymnosophist, but I know grace when I see it!

Ben Shorr was a shy kid. A series of misfortunes, including a car accident and the contentious divorce of his parents, made him jaded, always on the defensive. Rap was his only outlet, his way of making sense of his screwed-up life. He went in and out of the juvenile justice system. Homeless, he’d try to scrounge up three dollars every week to pay the cover for Rap Night. That’s where he rediscovered his passion for words, and for life. The Rap Night community anchored Ben and inspired him to never be anything less than his very best.

These days, Ben hosts a monthly offshoot of Rap Night at Oxbow Blending and Bottling, on Washington Ave., called Hip Hops. At this month’s show, on Aug. 12, he’ll release his second album, Pyrokinesis. Rap is full of pass-or-fail lessons that only the streets can teach. There is wisdom to be found in discarded lives.

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When I moved to Pittsburgh for college in the late ’90s, the swing revival turned me into an unrepentant jazz junkie. There was a Holiday Inn a few streets off campus, where a jazz band performed every Sunday. I’d get dressed up and talk to pretty women, pretending I was a hip gigolo instead of a closet bumpkin from Maine.

Every month at One Longfellow Square, the 18-piece Portland Jazz Orchestra puts on a swingin’ show. The Orchestra formed in 2004 and plays standards peppered with originals. The spontaneity of jazz erodes the buffers that normally guide us through life and keep us on the straight and narrow. The room at OLS was congested with chairs last month. I wished the floor in front of the Orchestra were empty, so everyone could swing! So says the guy in a wheelchair.