Rock WILK

Street poet, sweet singer and spoken word artist Rock Wilk returns Shoreside for a handful of live appearances.

Last summer in the virtual pages of Red Bank oRBit, we introduced you to Rock Wilk, a seriously skilled guy from Brooklyn who we described as “a veteran of the recording studio and a chronicler of stories. A poet who works in the cadences of the hip-hop tradition, and a character who claims to do his best writing while riding the subways.” Rock spent some time down Asbury way last year, where he spread the love via his GOT WILK? stickers and brought a multimedia show of songs and stories to the historic Stephen Crane House.

“The subway is the place where I feel most creative,” said Wilk, who in our profile had some refreshingly contrary things to say about the local state of the arts — and the distances we all need to travel to truly make this system hum. “I feel private when I’m there…sometimes I just ride the trains, all day and all night.”

Well, riding the pedal-car jitney up and down the boardwalk all night just doesn’t have the same kind of cachet, so Wilk took it back to the tubes to work on some different projects, including a whole new set of spoken-word with music compositions represented on his latest self-released drop, Valentine’s Day. He’s even started a second MySpace page, dedicated to this developing aspect of his art and craft.

“The work is something I’m very proud of, a result of a real evolution of my art,” writes the music veteran who’s lent his backup vocals and arrangements to the likes of Nile Rodgers and Patti Labelle.

“I’ve been living in these spoken word clubs since just before Thanksgiving, performing all over the place doing poetry slams and finally finding my OWN voice in this genre, perhaps creating a new genre, somewhere between hip hop/music/spoken word.”

Wilk has uploaded several examples of his recent work to the page (as well as edited snippets appearing on his official website), and we think they’re a savvy synthesis of musical language and a forceful, yet conversational style of writing-out-loud. In “22 Stops to 198th Street,” Wilk wonders “who the fuck am I?” as he pieces together snapshots of the birth parents with his self-realizations as “my own little man” in a culture that still views the adopted kid as The Other. He’s that guy sitting across from you on the G line, suddenly shouting out not in subway-craziness but in epiphany. Think much-maligned Eminem in his his most devastatingly personal moments, minus the mawkish victim trip.

“A Letter” works a similar theme of Wilk’s thoughts on finally meeting his bio-mom, set against a jazzy upright-bass plunk that for once isn’t some corny hip-hop hybrid. This is a guy who knows words and music and the ways in which they either cooperate or compete. And best of all, there’s not a vein of vanilla ice running through it.

“The material is born of a lot of pain that I’ve been thru recently,” says Wilk. “So some of the material is brutal, but honest to say the least.”

The Wilkman cometh again to the Shore for a handful of appearances spotlighting his new projects, beginning this Thursday with a school show at Asbury Park High. On Friday, March 13, he’ll perform for the first time at the interesting setting of the Borders store on Route 35 in Eatontown, and one week later on March 20 he’ll be at Core Restore, that rather unique space devoted to both art and physical therapy, on Mattison Avenue in Asbury Park.

Tom Chesek - Red Bank Orbit 2-23-09 (Feb 23, 2009)
- Red Bank Orbit

Wilk to power: Singer, poet, spoken word artist Rock Wilk offers the Shore audience a look at his “work in progress� known as “Ma’Plej’.�

By TOM CHESEK

At first glance, it’s a matchup of vocalist and venue that’s simply strange — the kind of idea that just seems “too true to be good.�

At center stage, you’ve got the man known as Rock Wilk, a lifelong New Yorker recently (temporarily?) transplanted to the Shore. A veteran of the recording studio and a chronicler of stories. A poet who works in the cadences of the hip-hop tradition, and a character who claims to do his best writing while riding the subways.

Hovering above it all, you’ve got Stephen Crane (1871-1900), the renowned 19th century author whose Civil War novel The Red Badge of Courage has been taught in high schools for generations. A war correspondent and prolific journalist who served as an early editor of the Asbury Park (Shore) Press.

It’s at Crane’s house on Fourth Avenue in Asbury Park that Rock Wilk will be standing in the modestly scaled parlor on Thursday night; addressing visitors to the historic Victorian-era home with a program entitled Ma’Plej’, a “work in progress� that’s built upon a foundation of tracks from his self-released CD Broke Wide Open.

A collection of songs inspired by personal travail, current events and other messy aspects of life — yeah, real songs, with the veteran vocal arranger multi-tracking his vocals into the tight harmonies of millennial R&B sounds — the CD was performed and produced in its entirely by Wilk, inside his Bedford-Stuyvesant apartment. A look here brings you a telling of the artist’s life story, the making of the album, and a sharing of the view from his window.

There’s more to Ma’Plej’ — the title’s an acronym of Wilk family member names, as well as a representation of the author’s “pledge� to use his musical gifts for the betterment of the world — than a run-through of album cuts. It’s a performance piece that uses spoken word interludes and visual elements as well, to convey “a show that’s socially and politically charged.�

A serious guy whose steely-eyed intensity brings to mind the younger work of actor Vincent D’Onofrio, Wilk has a background that has allowed him to work on records by some of the era’s pre-eminent purveyors of pop — including Nile Rodgers and Patti Labelle, to name a couple. But, as the singer says, “I try not to be the kind of guy who drops names…I’ve always rather been the guy who speaks out against injustice.�

On closer examination, the Wilk-Crane connection starts to make a lot more sense. The impassioned observer giving voice to the souls in transit beneath the streets of the city. The dynamic young reporter whose sympathetic studies of “women of the streets� enhanced his legacy, even as they jeopardized his professional standing. Together these guys are destined to create a wild duet.

Red Bank oRBit slipped away from a family barbecue to talk with Rock Wilk about his ever-evolving work, his strange new surroundings, and the things that remain constant through good times and bad.

Underground artist: Rock Wilk, pictured in the setting from which he draws his greatest inspiration.

RED BANK ORBIT: I guess the obvious question here would be to wonder just how your presentation traveled from Brooklyn to the Stephen Crane House — you can’t take the subway to the Crane House, and a boardwalk pedal-car jitney just doesn’t mean the same thing. Did you get a look at the place?

ROCK WILK: I did, yeah, and I thought it was great. I open Ma’Plej’ at a theater in Manhattan in a couple of months, and I was looking for a unique place to do the piece down here. Somebody from ArtsCAP introduced me to (Crane House owner/curator) Frank D’Alessandro, who’s a really good guy — I walked in there and said, “I wanna do it here.� I really like the vibe in there.

It’s a room that’s certainly never seen anything like you’re planning to bring there. Not sure what Crane himself would’ve made of it. But it’s also a very intimate space, so aren’t you thinking that you’re gonna need a bigger boat, as they say?

I’ve done this material for five people out in the street, and I’ll do it for a crowded theater. As long as I’m connecting with somebody, its a piece that will work on any level.

So what exactly is Ma’Plej’, compared to the album Broke Wide Open? Does it utilize all the songs from the album?

It’s a combination of music from my album, including remixes of things on the album, along with a lot of spoken word, and some visuals. It’s personal stories; my life story basically. I’m running the whole thing off my computer.

What kind of visuals?

Believe it or not, a lot of photos that I took with my cell phone. Sometimes I just have it as a background; the visuals together with the music gets the point across.

And you did the whole album yourself at home; tracking all the vocals, playing all the instruments.

Anybody can record a great album now on a laptop. You can do better than Earth, Wind and Fire did back in the 80s. But it’s really not so much what you do with the technology, it’s who you are.

You’re not an unknown quantity, though. You’ve worked with a lot of well known people in the business, so do you think that gives the project a higher profile from the start, no matter how small and personal it may be?

I’m a background singer; I’ve been in bands, I worked with some of the best singers in the world — people who probably appear on about half the records that ever get released. But if you don’t have the funding, you just can’t be part of the mainstream.

Like most new artists these days, you’re savvy enough to know that there’s not going to be a record label looking after the promotional details for you; you’ve got to be versed in all of the alternative methods of getting the word out.

I did very well with MySpace. The MySpace site exploded when I put it up after the album came out. I actually got jobs off of MySpace — I did vocal arrangements for someone in Australia!

I’ve been lucky, doing what I can to make a living. And I’m a pop music freak — Justin Timberlake, Stevie Wonder, Jay-Z, Eminem — but I’m also influenced by Pete Seeger, Gil Scott-Heron, anybody who has something to say.

And you do all of your writing on the subway.

The subway is the place where I feel most creative. I feel private when I’m there. Sometimes I just ride the trains, all day and all night.

You’re a lifelong Brooklynite?

The Bronx, Manhattan, where I lived for twenty years, and Brooklyn — Bed-Sty. But I’ve actually been down here in Asbury Park for the past eight months. I locked myself in an apartment for all this time, just working.

When I came to town, I didn’t know anybody down here. And when I saw what was going on around town, I said damn.

So you like what you see happening in Asbury?

Well, the west side of town is not part of what’s going on — not a lot of people want to talk about it. It reminds me of Williamsburg about 15 years ago. There was no rhyme or reason to it; people just started coming in and forcing the older people out. Living in Bed-Sty, it’s like — people stayed there, weathered the storm for years, and when the money starts coming into the neighborhood, things start opening up, they’re not in a position to take advantage of the new stuff. They can no longer afford to live there.

I went to one of the First Night events in the downtown, and I didn’t see one person of color. And this is a town that’s been majority African-American for years. Then I met a bar owner over on the west side, and he had never heard of the First Night thing. So, I really appreciate what ArtsCAP is doing, but there’s still a lot that needs to be done, to get people working together.

And you’re thinking that music, or the arts in general, can play a big role in that?

Well, we were talking about influences a moment ago, and the thing that had the single biggest influence on me was this one event; after 9/11 I went to Yankee Stadium to see this program with all of these spiritual leaders coming together. All of these different singers, working together. I said, that’s what music is for. And anything I do from now on, should be along those lines.

Which brings us back to Ma’Plej’ and songs like “New Orleans, a Warning.�

I’m the guy who can’t keep his mouth shut. This is perfect for me!

Rock Wilk is scheduled to perform at the Crane House at 8pm Thursday; tickets are $10 each and can be reserved here. Seating, however, is extremely limited, so if you’re unable to attend in Asbury Park, check the link for some upcoming opportunities to catch Rock in Brooklyn and Manhattan. - Tom Chesek, Red Bank Orbit

Dime store rappers are a nickel a dozen, just take a ride on the New York City
subway or walk down a street through the borough of your choice. Personally, I
miss the days when promising young hip-hoppers could be seen city-wide,
carrying a big boombox on their shoulder, blasting crazy beats like a loud message
to the masses. Now, they don't even bother with the CD player, these psych-cases
just get in your face, spouting moronic verses while channeling their inner
Tourette's syndrome. Sure, they carry pen and paper, but can they read?
Anyway, one young hip-hop soon-to-bemogul
has recently invaded my personal
space--and it's all good. Wilk is a New
York City native (da Bronx) who uses the
subways for more than simple
transportation. Riding the rails from his
home in Bed-Sty way up to 207th street
in Manhattan or down to Coney then
round to the East Village, Wilk envisions
our beautiful, if overly commercialized
city, as his own personal inspiration pad.
Broke Wide Open was written entirely on
the New York City subway system. Does
this remind me of Travis Bickle's
response to the Yellow Cab dispatcher's
inquiry as to whether he would work
uptown and Jewish holidays, only to reply, "Anytime, anywhere, don't make no
difference to me"? You bet it does! Wilk's Broke Wide Open is his personal
mission statement of a journey through brain melting times.
You see, folks, our man Wilk is a real New Yawka. His friendships attest to his
attachments to the Big Apple's history and entertainment circles. One of Wilk's best
pals is movie producer mogul Jack Rollins. A really big cheese in this wacky
industry of ours, Jack has managed none other than David Letterman, Dick Cavett,
and Woody Allen, and is perhaps best known for his long time partnership with
Charles H. Joffe, the executive producer for practically every Woody Allen film in
existence. Not bad street cred, huh? Whenever Wilk was feeling depressed during
the recording of Broke Wide Open, Rollins would simply say "Stay with it," no
doubt the same advice he offered to everyone from Woody Allen to David
Steinberg to Tiny Tim. That, and an egg cream is all a real New Yawka needs to
get off his ass and turn lemons into lemonade.
Recorded entirely in Wilk's Bed-Sty loft, with our protagonist singing all the
harmonies, playing all the instruments, and programming everything else, Broke
Wide Open matches blue eyed soul vocalizing with a typical hip-hop template.
Opener "Be Quiet" rides its own rails over a swaggering programmed hip-hop
beat, but Wilk's vocals, which are rapper-lite at best, are actually more of the
crooning, Daryl Hall (of Hall and Oates) school. Does it work? Only because Wilk's
big choruses quickly grab our attention. "I need to find a white girl, I meant to say
the right girl" is the kind of clever subversion Wilk offers over super catchy,
infectious hooks.
There is enough evidence in the album's 14 tracks to suggest that Wilk is a
crossover driven artist, from the honey dark, Creed worthy, hands-in-the-air
harmonies of "Johnny" to the multi-tracked gospel chorus of "Stroke." He gets all
weird and Travis Bickle-like (again) in "Song For My Mother," proclaims his "nice
Jewish boy roots" with weight in the finger-snapping, throat-humming "What Did
You Mean," and creates a Ninjatune worthy moment in "Jane's Talkin' Union."
Gospel inspired, R&B enabled, and "nice Jewish boy" sanctified, Wilk is on the way
up. (See Wilkmusic.com for more madness) - Ken Micaleff, Yahoo.com

Wilk's new CD, Broke Wide Open is aptly titled. An accomplished composer, lyricist, performer and producer, he's opened up his head, his heart and his life to tackle subjects like love, death, family, religion and racism. It's obvious this a very personal piece of work, even before you know that he also provides every voice and instrumental performance heard on the disc. With a well-developed sense of sound and self, Wilk is definitely ready to break. - T. Lambert Independent journalist Editor, ARRAY magazine former Blender columnist, contributing arts

"WILK is the Muhammad Ali of hip hop and spoken word...floating like a butterfly, stinging like a bee.

looking into his eyes when he mans the machine gun of his tongue is like looking into a bunker, only to watch the tracers he dispatches as they light the sky around him, for all of us to see.

thanks for the light, WILK!" - Michael Raysses, contributing writer, National Public Radio