Gil Scott-Heron ist back. For those who don’t know him, he was one of the most outspoken black poets and social critics of the 70ties. He is widely considered to be a frontrunner for modern hiphop. His most famous poem is “The revolution will not be televised”.
The Guardian has an interview up now:
“People keep saying I disappeared,” the singer tells me, laughing heartily, when I speak to him. “Well, that’s a gift I didn’t know I had. You ever see someone disappear? That makes me a superhero, right?”
The humour, though, conceals a great deal of heartbreak and an epic struggle with addiction, both of which are referred to obliquely on his raggedly brilliant version of Robert Johnson’s “Me and the Devil” on the new album. “Early this mornin’, when you knocked upon my door”, he sings, “And I said, “Hello, Satan, I believe it’s time to go.”
Though Gil Scott-Heron insists he did not disappear, that he kept playing club gigs in America and did the occasional tour, that he was writing, if not recording, the news that kept on filtering back from his long winter in America was always bleak. It seemed at times as if the most astute musical social commentator of the 70s and 80s had metamorphosed into a character from one of his own sad songs of suffering and struggle. On the sombre and still-startling “Home Is Where The Hatred Is”, recorded in 1971, he described a junkie trapped in a blighted inner-city ghetto who lived inside “white powder dreams”. Thirty-odd years later, he seemed to be living those lyrics.