A THEATRICAL MIXTAPE
Poet/vocalist Motion teams up with DJ L’Oqenz in Oraltorio,
Oraltorio: A Theatrical Mixtape
(out of 4) Written by Motion. Music by DJ L’Oqenz. Directed by Mumbi Tindyebwa Otu. Until Oct. 20 at the Young Centre for the Performing Arts, 50 Tank House Lane. Soulpepper.ca or 416-866-8666.
The static sound of a stereo antenna searching for radio waves in the air, breaking out into clear notes and then dissolving into white noise again, is a delightfully vintage one. But it’s also a blast from the past that catapults the poet and vocalist Motion and DJ L’Oqenz into their anachronistic ride through Black music history. When the two women are unable to find anything but white (mostly male) pop artists — John Mellencamp, Billy Idol, U2 — on the earth-bound waves, Oraltorio: A Theatrical
Mixtape begins as they seemingly enter the static space in between the channels, guided by Missy Elliott and Lauryn Hill, creating music of their own and transmitting it back to their own audiences.
Since Oraltorio first debuted in Why Not Theatre’s RISER Program in 2016, director Mumbi Tindyebwa Otu and designers Jackie Chau (set, costumes and props), André du Toit (lighting) and Laura Warren (projections) have emphasized this otherworldly, afrofuturism-inspired esthetic. Three circles are painted on the floor: two smaller ones are on the side with a galaxy-esque arrangement of swirls and stars, while the larger one in the middle, where the microphone stands, is like a microscope revealing a complex network of plant roots or human nerves — both fitting metaphors for the breakneck journey through musical, political and personal movements within Black music in North America. Throughout the show, which flits back and forth through eras through Motion’s sung and spoken lyrics and DJ L’Oqenz’s polyphonic electronic orchestrations, we see the growth of an artist from scrib- bling rhymes on the subway to the sexist trappings of hip-hop fame, we see how popular music was (and is) a tool for white supremacy, and conversely, we see how music was (and is) a uniting force in Black protests, anger, celebrations, love and individual expression.
Adhering to a linear or narrative-driven progression through a myriad of styles in this packed 75 minutes might not have been a priority for Motion, DJ L’Oqenz and Tindyebwa Otu, but its speed does have a dizzying effect, especially when hints at character and il- lustrative scenes only last for a few beats and the audience is left begging to know more. Or, as Tindyebwa Otu describes as the “coded language” of Black music, maybe these moments are enough to convey what’s necessary to the audience who has the code — which I, as a white downtown-dwelling Torontonian who isn’t plugged into the city’s world-renowned hip-hop scene, admittedly do not.
What I can undoubtedly appreciate are the talents of Motion and L’Oqenz and the supportive chemistry they share onstage. As Motion traverses the stage as a dancehall queen, a gospel preacher, a minstrel, a ragtime singer and more, L’Oqenz is obviously quieter but no less in control, as a mirror above her reflects the intricacy of her work on her deck and her small, rhythmic movements signal her passion for her music and her collaborator. In its roughness, you see its freshness, and I’d tune into Oraltorio again.