That’s a rap

Kimberley McGee

Thursday, March 2, 2000 | 9:49 a.m.

Everyone has a story to tell, and Brett Silver's doesn't seem too unusual.

On the surface.

The contrasting sides of Silver make him interesting. The fact that he has never seen the light of day makes him extraordinary.

The 24-year-old Las Vegan is a musician with four rap albums on his label, Negative Records. He performs his style of homemade rap with lyrics a bit on the vulgar side (a parental advisory sticker is placed neatly on his CD covers) at local pubs and clubs.

But this dark side of the artist known as B-Sick is tempered by Silver's huge heart.

He is an avid community volunteer who counsels rape victims and callers to the local suicide hot line, and aids autistic and preschool children at a Las Vegas elementary school.

Blind from birth, Silver sees no obstacles in life.

"It takes a real challenge to go out and do something out of the ordinary," Silver said. "I'm always getting challenged, whether it's music, whether I need to cross the street, everything is a challenge for me.

"If there was no challenge, life would not be interesting."

And he's determined to keep it interesting.

In the dark

He doesn't mind if people stare; he can't see. But what he does mind is being ignored. "I'm about attention," Silver said.

He turned to rap in his early teens as an alternative to the bubble-gum pop tunes of the late '80s. "I can't sing, but I've always liked rap," Silver said. "It seems to talk about more than just love. With rap music the guy is talking about the day he had, going to school, getting on the bus and dealing with other people."

So Silver became B-Sick (rap slang for cool), making up raps and letting loose at school, in the classroom, on the bus. People took notice. A teacher inspired Silver to showcase his talent in front of an audience.

"She heard me rapping in the back of the class and asked me to write something for (an) assembly," said Silver, who began performing on stage in ninth grade at James Gibson Middle School, writing rap songs for pep assemblies.

"I like to perform, I've always liked being the center of attention," Silver said. "Whether they are laughing at me, talking about me, whether they come up to me after a show, I always like to be the center of what's going on."

The tall, blue-eyed rapper performs at local clubs as B-Sick, climbing on stage with guest rappers and assorted musical gadgets.

It's not always safe.

"I've fallen off a stage before," Silver said. "At first I thought 'Uh-oh, I've fallen.' Then I was embarrassed. And then I got up, I laughed because it was funny, and got back on (stage)."

He has produced four albums. His latest, "I Hope You're Offended," is available at Odyssey Records.

"I use music as a stress reliever, mainly," Silver said.

The lighter side

Silver compares crisis work with mountain climbing. The challenge is to pull the caller from the precipice of depression, fear and possibly suicide.

"You get the whole rush of 'Uh-oh I need to help this person,' " Silver said. "It's a rush to know that you have to help this person and know that you have to do it right."

When callers first contact Silver they are deeply depressed. He gives suggestions on how to cope. "They want to shoot you down, they don't want to hear anything positive, but when you talk to them they switch, they are up a little bit," Silver said. "To see them go from depressed to positive, it's cool."

Silver's ability to reach withdrawn callers and his openness to discuss his disability makes him a good counselor, said Maxine Lantz, victim liaison and volunteer trainer for the Rape Crisis Center in Las Vegas.

"(Callers) liked Brett and wanted to talk to Brett," Lantz said. "He's a very complicated person, but he's a lot of fun, and a very caring, interesting person. It's more important that he is a good volunteer rather than he is blind."

Silver teaches other crisis volunteers how to comfort a blind or otherwise physically challenged caller without coming across awkwardly. "Brett helps us to overcome fears we didn't even know we had," Lantz said. "They can sense the other person is attuned to their disability."

Each volunteer must get past the fear of offending someone with a disability. "We are trying to give the opportunity for new volunteers to overcome any apprehension they may have," Lantz said.

Silver's willingness to answer any questions makes for a comfortable environment as fears subside. "When someone has been victimized they are sensitive to everything," Lantz said. "Any apprehension will be intensified to the point they would be uncomfortable."

The rape crisis hot line receives calls from the elderly, mentally challenged and hearing impaired. Silver throws some light on how to deal with anyone different.

"It's an open forum to discuss the taboo, to be able to find out what truly offends a person who's blind," Lantz said. "He's so open to questions. It's interesting to get his perspective."

Volunteers have asked Silver if he dreams in color, if he can smell colors, what the sun feels like and other questions that define his world to those with sight. "I don't mind questions, because at least people are taking the time to ask instead of just assuming," Silver said.

But many of his friends and acquaintances find Silver's penchant for helping people a little strange. "It's something they couldn't do," Silver said. "To them they think it's sick. They couldn't listen to that stuff but what they don't understand is the reward."

Many of his clients call back just to say thanks and check up on Silver as well. "That's powerful," Silver said.

The Rape Crisis Center has between 25 and 35 volunteers who work from home. Silver has a computerized voice-mail system that repeats his own words electronically. Callers listen as he explains that he is blind. They usually let it go at that, and continue the conversation.

Silver also gives speeches and teaches other volunteers how to deal with blind victims of rape, as well as other blind people they may meet.

Silver is also helping children overcome any fears they may have of blind people by volunteering at Cyril Wengert Elementary School three times a week.

On a recent afternoon in a preschool class at Wengert, children crawled over, around and under Silver as he sat at a little table. His fingers danced over the Braille bumps on a plastic transparency over the words as he read the tykes a story.

"Kids do all kinds of crazy stuff. They definitely present a challenge," Silver said. "With kids, you have to be careful."

An autistic child tapped Silver and placed a piece of paper with a scribbled note in his hand. He thanked her and she walked away to scribble more notes for other teachers and guests.

"It's fun because they don't care that I'm blind," Silver said. "Kids you can always have fun with, always be creative. Adults are harder."

His double life of rapping and charity began in 1997 while finishing dual degrees in communications and criminal justice at UNLV. A professor asked Silver to enroll in an internship at the Spring Mountain Youth Patrol.

"It's something I had wanted to do for years," Silver said, adding that he was interested in being a big brother to the troubled youths. "I enjoyed getting them back on track," Silver said. "You can't go in with that whole attitude that you're going to help these kids and change their lives."

He understands frustration and the depression of slipping backwards. "Sometimes when you follow up with victims they are doing great and next time they are back where they started," Silver said. "You have to be patient."

The thought counts

Silver has never known what it's like to see. Both of his retinas were detached at birth, a defect known as retinal fiberplacia. If given the opportunity, though, Silver says sight would not be an option he would consider.

"I've been blind all my life. For me to all of a sudden to get vision, it would be too strange," Silver said. "It would be like loosing your vision. You've adjusted to one way of life and all of a sudden you get a new twist on it and just, whoa."

Silver would have to redefine his whole world. "Do you know how much you'd have to learn? You'd have to learn to read regular, you'd have to learn what objects are," Silver said. "I could look at a wall, but would I be able to tell you it was a wall?"

Strangers' ignorance angers him. But even when he's mad, Silver is soft-spoken and quick-witted. "(People) will ask my friend with me if I can do this or that, like I've got a mental disability," he said. "I'm blind, not stupid."

Silver doesn't admit to experiencing many difficult obstacles, but he offered this opinion as a Citizen Area Transit bus chugged in the background, waiting to take him home.

"Transportation is a big thing," Silver said. "If I need to go somewhere right away, if it's a performance or a job interview, I have to call around and get my friends."

If he needs to go to a street or business he doesn't know well, he usually won't go alone, for safety's sake. "If it's a strange area, I don't feel comfortable," Silver said.

He will probably always rap -- he likes the attention and the art -- but in the long term he wants to continue to interact with others.

"I just want some kind of job working with people," Silver said. "I don't really plan for the future because you don't know what the future holds. There are lots of things I want to do, lots. But who knows?"

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