Gil Scott-Heron 1949-2011

Gil Scott-Heron is one of my all-time favourite artists. Expressions like that can get batted around all too frequently after someone of note dies, but Gil really meant a lot to me. A poet, musician, author and soul man, he created some of the most intelligent and important American music of the nineteen-seventies. That he was lesser known than some of his contemporaries was indicative of his style, which could flicker between hard and soft, but was almost always challenging and never came from anywhere but the heart.

Gil might not have been a household name like Al Green or even Curtis Mayfield, his only rival when it came to writing great music about racial inequality and social injustice in seventies America, but his influence can be felt throughout the 40 years of popular music since he first emerged. He’s often coined the “Godfather of Rap” for his passionate spoken word flow when performing his poetry. Some even consider ‘The Revolution to be Televised’ to be the first ever rap song.

Drawing a line between Gil’s poetry of the early seventies and the rap music that emerged later on in the decade is an easy link. In all honesty though, his influence on the birth of hip-hop is probably overstated. But more so than than his flow, Gil perhaps influenced a generation of politically-minded rappers with his radical lyricism and fearless approach to whatever topic he decided was worth his attention. He’s often associated with black militant activism and with his large afro and strong, handsome features, he exuded a powerful image of black masculinity at a time when groups like the Black Panther Party were shaking the foundations of American identity.

While Gil often voiced his anger on topics like racism, his albums were never one paced. From 1971, Pieces of a Man was his first record that moved away from straight poetry and it moves gracefully from soulful love songs to pop ballads and downbeat tales of heroin abuse. Winter in America, recorded in 1974, is perhaps his most socially conscious record, but it’s themes are all over the map. ‘The Bottle’ for example underlines the effect alcoholism has in the home, while the gorgeous ‘Rivers of my Father’ explores the importance of ancestry. Gil could really do it all, giving himself over to every single note.

Gil remained prolific in the early eighties, but only cut two albums after 1982. He was in and out of jail for drug offenses and was presumed HIV positive. Struggling for as long as he did, how nice that Gil had a late career renaissance with last year’s album I’m New Here, and the subsequent remix record with Jamie XX which brought his thoughtful flow to a whole new audience and made him a critical darling once again. These albums also proved his relevance stretched way beyond the seventies. Rock stars don’t always age gracefully, but on I’m New Here Gil presented a record about being a 60 year old HIV positive, ex-con which such gritty honesty, only Johnny Cash can match this winter flourish.

I’m sad I missed his gig in Dublin last year. My best memories of James Brown are from his show in Vicar Street a year or so before he died. It’s upsetting I’ll never make that same connection with Gil Scott-Heron. But there’s a huge pool of work to embrace. There’s poems, novels and music to endlessly teach and inspire. Life lessons from a man whose talent was only matched by his bravery.