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Rating: I have my own idea about why an artist of Gil Scott-Heron's caliber hasn't recorded in a while and, most importantly, has fallen into a "black hole" from which he can't seem to escape. Precisely he, who throughout his exemplary career as a writer, poet, musician, political activist sought to chart a path of proud redemption, of conscious rebellion for the "brothers" against a society, both past and present, hypocritical, racist, and too unjust, he got caught in its traps, seduced by those mirages from which he tried to warn his peers and the younger generations.
I think it has a lot to do with the painful disappointment for what he perceives as the end of his ideals. It must be difficult to accept that those who now point to him as a reference, as a precursor (indeed, Gil was doing "rap" when no one called it that yet...), have raised the white flag, swallowed by the god-dollar and tamed by subsequent rampant consumerism. "My generation has lost," he must have thought; and those that followed, dazzled by the deceitful glitters of Mammon, have gradually become functional to the system that swells the ghettos, prisons, and the bank accounts of a very few, celebrated "Black Stars."
Those who don't know him can get an idea of his multifaceted personality by reading his second and last novel from '72, he hasn't written more, published in Italy only in 2001 by the commendable publisher Shake, "La fabbrica dei negri," a sort of photograph with lights and shadows of the Afro-American student university movement of the seventies; or get hold of his "The Best," which also contains his most famous piece, a sort of political-musical manifesto, "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," written in '71 at just over twenty years old: more than a proto-rap, a "stream of consciousness" (...The revolution will not go better with Coke / The revolution will not fight the germs that cause bad breath / The revolution WILL put you in the driver's seat / The revolution will not be televised, WILL not be televised, WILL NOT BE TELEVISED / The revolution will be no re-run brothers / The revolution will be live).
But it's about one of his albums from the '80s that I want to tell you about, my first encounter with him, "Reflections." It is an unparalleled mix of commitment, popular black music, political awareness, intelligent easy listening: body & soul, in short. And if in his previous works a kind of jazz-fusion was "the attire" most often donned by his dense and direct "streams," in the seven tracks of "Reflections" there is much more variety and the "black" music is declined in all its "cases". From the reggae of "Storm Music," a tribute to the King of Kingston whom he considered a master of freedom, to the d.o.c. Soul of "Grandma's Hands," where he seems like an angry Bill Withers. There's even a nod to Latin American rhythms with "Gun," and the classic cool-jazz "carpet" on which to lay his "morning thoughts." "Is The Jazz?" is a continuous succession of images (Bird, Billie, Miles, Prez. . . ) that responds in an unequivocal, yet original way (there are also Stevie Wonder and Bob Marley) to the question.
To seal this ecumenical conception of black sound, a cover of "Inner City Blues" could not be missing, a very personal interpretation, a more canonical first part that grafts onto his typical spoken-word. Closing beautifully with the 12-minute and more "b-movie", an ironic philippic about that mediocre western actor who became a terrible president (we are not much better today: there is a terrible cruise ship pianist at the helm of the ship...).
It's a shame that Gil is not doing well: his mirror glasses, proudly worn on the album cover, would be more useful than ever to help us reflect (with "reflections" in English referring to both reflections and contemplations) on the current desolate reality.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 Grandma's Hands (05:24)
Grandma's hands clapped to church on Sunday mornings
Grandma's hands played the tambourine so well
Grandma's hands used to issue out a warning
She say, "Scotty why you run so fast,
Might fall on a piece of glass,
Might be snakes there in that grass?"
Grandma's hands, they keep on calling to me.
Grandma's hands soothed the local unwed mothers
Grandma's hands used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands, lord they'd really come in handy
She say, "Bobbie why you want to whip that boy?
What you want to whip him for?
He didn't throw no apple core."
Grandma's hands, they keep on calling to me.
Grandma's hands soothed the local unwed mothers
Grandma's hands used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands, well they really came in handy
She say, "Bobbie why you want to whip that boy?
What you want to whip him for?
He didn't throw no apple core."
But I don't have grandma anymore
When I get to heaven I'll look for grandma's hands.
06 Gun (04:01)
Brother man nowadays livin' in the ghetto
Where the dangers sure enough real.
Well when he's out late at night,
and if he's got his head on right,
Well, I lay you 9 to 5 he's walking with steel.
Brother Man says he's 'fraid of gangsters
Messing with people just for fun
He don't want to be next.
He got a family to protect.
So just last week he bought himself a gun.
Everybody got a pistol, everybody got a .45
And the philosophy seem to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.
This is a violent civilization;
If civilization's where I am.
Every channel that I stop on
Got a different kind of cop on
Killing them by the million for Uncle Sam.
Saturday night just ain't that special.
Yeah, I got the constitution on the run.
'Cause even though we've got the right
To defend our home, to defend our life,
Got to understand to get it in hand about the guns.
Everybody's got a pistol. Everybody got a .45.
The philosophy seems to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up, I, I'll give up...
Saturday night just ain't that special.
Freedom to be afraid is all you want.
Yes if you don't want to be next.
You've got a family to protect.
9 out of 10, you've got a friend, you've got a gun.
Everybody got a pistol. Everybody got a .45.
And the philosophy seems to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.
Everybody got a pistol, this mosty be the NRA
Yeah 'cause when it's time to line up
You know damn well they're gonna shine up
Everybody...
And the philosophy seem to be
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.
07 B Movie (12:13)
Well, the first thing I want to say is: Mandate my ass!"
Because it seems as though we've been convinced that 26% of the registered voters, not even 26% of the American people, but 26% of the registered voters form a mandate or a landslide. 21% voted for Skippy and 3, 4% voted for somebody else who might have been running.
But, oh yeah, I remember. In this year that we have now declared the year from Shogun to Reagan, I remember what I said about Reagan, I meant it. Acted like an actor. Hollyweird. Acted like a liberal. Acted like General Franco when he acted like governor of California, then he acted like a Republican. Then he acted like somebody was going to vote for him for president. And now we act like 26% of the registered voters is actually a mandate. We're all actors in this I suppose.
What has happened is that in the last 20 years, America has changed from a producer to a consumer. And all consumers know that when the producer names the tune, the consumer has got to dance. That's the way it is. We used to be a producer - very inflexible at that, and now we are consumers and, finding it difficult to understand. Natural resources and minerals will change your world. The Arabs used to be in the 3rd World. They have bought the 2nd World and put a firm down payment on the 1st one. Controlling your resources we'll control your world. This country has been surprised by the way the world looks now. They don't know if they want to be Matt Dillon or Bob Dylan. They don't know if they want to be diplomats or continue the same policy - of nuclear nightmare diplomacy. John Foster Dulles ain't nothing but the name of an airport now.
The idea concerns the fact that this country wants nostalgia. They want to go back as far as they can - even if it's only as far as last week. Not to face now or tomorrow, but to face backwards. And yesterday was the day of our cinema heroes riding to the rescue at the last possible moment. The day of the man in the white hat or the man on the white horse - or the man who always came to save America at the last moment - someone always came to save America at the last moment - especially in "B" movies. And when America found itself having a hard time facing the future, they looked for people like John Wayne. But since John Wayne was no longer available, they settled for Ronald Reagan and it has placed us in a situation that we can only look at -like a "B" movie.
Come with us back to those inglorious days when heroes weren't zeros. Before fair was square. When the cavalry came straight away and all-American men were like Hemingway to the days of the wondrous "B" movie. The producer underwritten by all the millionaires necessary will be Casper "The Defensive" Weinberger - no more animated choice is available. The director will be Attila the Haig, running around frantically declaring himself in control and in charge. The ultimate realization of the inmates taking over at the asylum. The screenplay will be adapted from the book called "Voodoo Economics" by George "Papa Doc" Bush. Music by the "Village People" the very military "Macho Man."
"Company!!!"
"Macho, macho man!"
"Two-three-four."
"He likes to be - well, you get the point."
"Huuut! Your left! Your left! Your left, right, left, right, left, right !"
A theme song for saber-rallying and selling wars door-to-door. Remember, we're looking for the closest thing we can find to John Wayne. Clichés abound like kangaroos - courtesy of some spaced out Marlin Perkins, a Reagan contemporary. Clichés like, "itchy trigger finger" and "tall in the saddle" and "riding off or on into the sunset." Clichés like, "Get off of my planet by sundown!" More so than clichés like, "he died with his boots on." Marine tough the man is. Bogart tough the man is. Cagney tough the man is. Hollywood tough the man is. Cheap stick tough. And Bonzo's substantial. The ultimate in synthetic selling: A Madison Avenue masterpiece - a miracle - a cotton-candy politician Presto! Macho!
"Macho, macho man!"
Put your orders in America. And quick as Kodak your leaders duplicate with the accent being on the nukes - cause all of a sudden we have fallen prey to selective amnesia - remembering what we want to remember and forgetting what we choose to forget. All of a sudden, the man who called for a blood bath on our college campuses is supposed to be Dudley "God-damn" Do-Right?
"You go give them liberals hell Ronnie." That was the mandate. To the new "Captain Bly" on the new ship of fools. It was doubtlessly based on his chameleon performance of the past - as a liberal democrat - as the head of the Studio Actor's Guild. When other celluloid saviors were cringing in terror from McCarthy - Ron stood tall. It goes all the way back from Hollywood to hillbilly. From liberal to libelous, from "Bonzo" to Birch idol, born again. Civil rights, women's rights, gay rights it's all wrong. Call in the cavalry to disrupt this perception of freedom gone wild. God damn it, first one wants freedom, then the whole damn world wants freedom.
Nostalgia, that's what we want The good ol' days when we gave'em hell? When the buck stopped somewhere and you could still buy something with it. To a time when movies were in black and white - and so was everything else. Even if we go back to the campaign trail, before six-gun Ron shot off his face and developed hoof-in-mouth. Before the free press went down before full-court press. And were reluctant to review the menu because they knew the only thing available was - Crow.
Lon Chaney, our man of a thousand faces - no match for Ron. Doug Henning does the make-up - special effects from Grecian Formula 16 and Crazy Glue. Transportation furnished by the David Rockefeller of Remote Control Company. Their slogan is, "Why wait for 1984? You can panic now...and avoid the rush."
So much for the good news
As Wall Street goes, so goes the nation. And here's a look at the closing numbers - racism's up, human rights are down, peace is shaky, war items are hot - the House claims all ties. Jobs are down, money is scarce - and common sense is at an all-time low on heavy trading. Movies were looking better than ever and now no one is looking because, we're starring in a "B" movie. And we would rather had John Wayne. We would rather had John Wayne.
"You don't need to be in no hurry.
You ain't never really got to worry.
And you don't need to check on how you feel.
Just keep repeating that none of this is real.
And if you're sensing, that something's wrong,
Well just remember, that it won't be too long
Before the director cuts the scene. yea."
"This ain't really your life,
Ain't really your life,
Ain't really ain't nothing but a movie."
[Refrain repeated approximately 20 times]
"This ain't really your life,
Ain't really your life,
Ain't really ain't nothing but a movie."
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