Derek Spalding

The Olympics gave Shane Koyczan a big boost, but the poet won’t jump at just any opportunity—he’s after more than instant gratification.

Shane Koyczan is actually enjoying some relative quiet when the Straight reaches him at his Penticton home. This is his only interview for the entire day. In 24 hours, he’ll head to Toronto and back into the hot glare of the international media blitz sparked by his stirring, gold-medal performance of the spoken-word piece “We Are More” at the Olympic opening ceremony.

There’s a book signing at Chapters lined up, an appearance on Canada AM, and “a lot of other stuff”, he says. “At this point I just call it ”˜stuff’,” Koyczan says with a chuckle. He sounds bemused by the weird turn his life has taken, acknowledges that he’s grateful for the boost to his career, but also adds softly, “It takes away from the time I have to create, right?”

It does, but at least on this particular day, Koyczan has the opportunity to work on new material for Shane Koyczan and some stuff I wrote—his two-night stand at the Cultch next Wednesday and Friday (March 24 and 26). As ads for the event tantalizingly inform, he’ll be joined by some “very” special guests, including musicians James Lamb and Maiya Robbie (Koyczan’s bandmate in Short Story Long), and—he semi-reluctantly reveals to the Straight—a fellow opening-ceremony performer, tap soloist Brock Jellison. “I’m giving you one supposed-to-be-secret person,” Koyczan says. “Brock and I built a pretty fast relationship backstage.”

He gives up the information presumably because he politely declines to answer two other questions in detail. In both cases, what he does say is enough to flesh out a compelling profile of the performer’s life both post- and pre-Olympics.

“I’m still very much an act that came up through the streets,” he states, “and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. There are a few new opportunities, which is great, but then again, I have to be careful in deciding which ones to take, because I want a respectable career, not to be a reality-TV star.”

Huh? Has somebody been pitching Shane Koyczan’s Family Jewels?

“I’ve been offered things that are questionable,” he answers diplomatically. “Suffice to say it’s a lot of money, and it’s a lot of instant gratification for something that would be utterly unrewarding.”

If that sounds intriguing, get a load of the work Koyczan has said yes to.

“Before I went into the Olympics thing,” he casually offers, “I’d been working with George Miller, the director.” George Miller, the Mad Max director? “Yes, Mad Max, and Babe.” Is he serious?

“I’m totally serious. I can’t give any details on what the project is, but it’s a major release.”

Koyczan figures that the antipodean Road Warrior auteur must have caught his act in Australia in 2007—which serves to remind us that the award-winning spoken-word artist didn’t just twinkle into existence, fully formed and magnificently neck-bearded, atop that draped erection at B.C. Place on February 12. Koyczan spent over a decade ascending to his post as literary superstar.

But the Olympics have increased his visibility by orders of magnitude, and the trailer-park-raised poet is taking a conscientious approach to the platform that—because of its broader implications—he “waffled” over accepting. Within minutes of answering the phone, he’s talking about the B.C. Liberals’ arts cuts.

“Reimagine the opening ceremonies and cut 90 percent of the artists involved,” he says, sighing. “It makes no sense. And it’s like, honestly, do they assume that the arts are going to be there the next time? Do they think the arts community is going to step up to the plate? I don’t think it will.”

He even suggests a strikingly simple form of protest. “I think we need to shame them,” he says.