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On Coming From A Broken Home(pt.1)

TWitter users have a popular hashtag designation when they want to “tweet” about music they are listening to. They type #MM for ‘music Monday’. It’s silly groupthink (we’ll talk about this later) similar to the #FF (follow Friday) hashtag, but at the end of the day the internets is a bastion for silly groupthink memes.

Maybe that’s why I bought two(2) vinyl copies of Gil Scott-Heron’s latest album ‘I’m New Here’. Maybe I thought I could zig while the rest of the world zags. I suppose the idea of trying to be an individual is also groupthink on some level. I like the vinyl edition mostly because of the art that was issued inside of the album jacket.

Gil Scott-Heron is an amazingly honest artist. In the sense that what you see is what you get and the pretense is removed and thrown away. His greatest characteristic in his music is his frailty, his vulnerability. I think Gil Scott-Heron’s honesty with this characteristic is what makes him so great. He sits before you naked [ll], yet unafraid. There is nothing that you can steal from him that he won’t just give you of his own volition.

Editor’s note: Our good friend Willis Still Sunsweet forwarded this review he posted online elsewhere…

Had Gil Scott-Heron’s (b. 1949) superb I’m New Here not come out recently, this might have been a threnody. Sixteen years had passed since Heron’s previous album, 1994’s invigorating Spirits; more than a decade lay between that and its predecessor, Moving Target. In the interim he’d been adduced “proto-rap”— reductive praise for America’s greatest living blues singer but that doesn’t get it all either; Heron’s brilliance is too vast to summarize.

Gil Scott-Heron’s 1970 debut, Small Talk At Lenox & 125th, set the lyrical tone, a black Phil Ochs via Langston Hughes, “Whitey On The Moon” with spare percussion grooves. His 1971 follow-up, Pieces Of A Man, was the musical future, with pianist/composer Brian Jackson’s avant soul-jazz arrangements allowing Heron to speak and increasingly sing of everything: “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” “Home Is Where The Hatred Is,” “Who’ll Pay Reparations On My Soul,” “We Almost Lost Detroit,” “B-Movie,” an epic evisceration of Ronald Reagan and more. Then darkness veiled his eyes.

In November 2001, as New York State prisoner number 01R5191, Heron began serving eighteen months for “Crim Poss Contr Substance 5th.” In July 2006, as 06R3165, twenty-six months more; again, possession of cocaine. Which travails make I’m New Here all the more staggering. He stares down Robert Johnson and Bobby “Blue” Bland, tries to write a letter but can’t get past “Dear Baby, how are you?” He triumphs anyway. Welcome back, brother.

‘I’m New Here‘ is unlike any R & B we are accustomed to because the ‘B’ that normally represents the shallow themes of selfish bullshit has been supplanted with the spiritual ‘B’ that belongs to blues music. The blues isn’t supposed to make you feel bad either. The blues should make you reflect on what you can do to make your soul complete. The blues is your humanity and everything that you love. I’ll cherish my memory of Gil Scott-Heron as the most honest, real artist I ever listened to and I thank him for reminding me of my great-grandma.

On Coming From A Broken Home(pt.2)