Boxes and Bytes

Home Again with Gil Scott-Heron

 

Gil Scott-Heron, often referred to as the godfather of hip-hop, is a new discovery for me. While flipping the racks at Amoeba I found some of his vinyl, and after being enticed by a recent Uncut article on his re-emergence I felt it was my duty to give him a listen.

I'm New Here is Gil's first album in 13 years, and comes 40 years after his first solo recordings. I decided to grab the Deluxe Edition 180 gram vinyl set which includes a 2nd disc of unreleased tracks (as well as a link to download the complete album on MP3). To properly compare his current work with some of his earlier stuff, I also got The Revolution Will Not Be Televised -- a compilation of some of his early material.

Listening to both albums back to back shows the sharp contrast between the young, angry, revolutionary spirit inciting the masses to rise up against Nixon and his ilk, and the older, reflective soul, still restless, but more constrained and sharpened. As he espouses on I'm New Here's Being Blessed, "I've got a big bill coming at the end of the day" - he's coming to terms with his truth, and realizes it has an expiration date.

I'm New Here's New York Is Killing Me is Scott-Heron's plaintiff wail -- an explosion of lyrical color exposing a man desperate to find peace however he can. After two stints in prison on drug charges in the 2000s, Scott-Heron not only questions the authorities that are seemingly always on the lookout for him, but also questions himself -- finally realizing the he's "not the only one that runs." Running is a theme interspersed throughout I'm New Here... running from cover, running out of time, running for "something of more value." The haunting, syncopated rhythms and sparse samples (including Kanye West) are aiding the "savage beast that soothes his brain" throughout these mesmerizing glances of life -- spoken low-key, with an undercurrent of intensity, denial, and acceptance of experiences both challenged and challenging.

The bonus disc includes a jazzier, more laid-back Scott-Heron chatting about his piano playing and life experiences interspersing streams of consciousness lyrics with a meandering explanation of his writing style. The disc offers an insightful and playful discovery of his genius crackling forth when he conjures the will. 

Gil Scott-Heron brings with him the ultimate street music -- combining the raw urgency of hip-hop with "ass music" that emerged from brothels and watering holes and eventually became what we now hear as jazz. Scott-Heron's welcome "comeback" on I'm New Here is as vital as the earlier pieces I enjoyed on The Revolution Will Not Be Televised, and messages how he sees jazz today: as nothing more than dance music overlapping several styles and genres. In fact, he sees jazz as the genesis of almost every style of music -- he even says Prince is the "best jazz musician around today." I would argue that Scott-Heron himself may be one of the best "jazz" musicians around today... on second thought... one of the best musicians around today... period.

Read the Uncut review of I'm New Here.

The Cool Indifference of Fred Hersch

I admit I have no past experience enjoying Fred Hersch. I came to know him just a little over a week ago via a New York Times magazine article about his recent battle with complications from AIDS. The article peaked my interest, and I quickly headed over to Amazon and ordered three CDs:

• The Fred Hersch Trio: Live at the Village Vanguard
• The Fred Hersch Trio: Night & the Music
• Fred Hersch In Amsterdam: Live at the Bimhuis

I chose a studio set and two live sets to try and get a good feel for Hersch's performances in different contexts. What has struck me the most is how Hersch weaves his subtle but fluid finger-work in and under his fellow players, with solos leaking out at what seems the most appropriate times, but never flooding forward and consuming the "stage". His impeccable sense of timing and rhythm sweeps through the compositions -- and some fairly complex time changes occur without the hint of a disconnect between the players.

On "Night & the Music" Hersch's melodic curves provide an effete reinvention of the "traditional" piano ballad, while Drew Gress (bass) and Nasheet Waits (drums) jostle around with bursts of intonation and rhythmic endorsement. The trio, while harmonious in play, are also decidedly improv in their feel. Gress' bass work is pointed and stiletto sharp. Waits' drums have a glorious lilt, balanced with a soft construct. The tunes themselves offer a wide palette of traditional balladry and popular jazz compositions including a nice selection of Monk (Misterioso and Boo Boo's Birthday). As an introduction to Hersch, this set offers an irresistible combination of harmony and vibration.

My idea to get three CDs paid off with "Live at the Village Vanguard" -- it gave me a holistic view of Hersch's styles in various settings. His playing on this set is far punchier, disconnected, and a tad more avant-garde. His runs on "Bemsha Swing" (A Monk piece) is filled with an agitated undercurrent and clashes at times with Gress' bass (yes, Gress and Waits accompany Hersch on this set too). I love Monk, and the interpretation here crackles. It's time changes are spot on, and the backing groove by Gress and Waits have a master spark. The entire set is dense with crafty segues and speedy glides across the keys. At times I wondered if the CD itself was going to start smoking up the player.

The "Live at the Bimhuis" set is a radical departure from the other two sets. Hersch was not even aware that this performance was being recorded. It became an "unintentional CD" and captured him in a setting that seems stripped of self-consciousness. His piano sound is upfront, unwavering, and deliciously disembodied from the "attentiveness" usually given an official recording. It seems like Hersch must always get in a Monk piece, and he does not disappoint here. Strikingly though, it's his own compositions that have the most impact. Maybe because the performance was for close friends, or because it was his last from a tiring 10-day tour, but his ease of form, and the "floating voice" of the instrument move seamlessly from one time change to another -- there's a cool indifference to the playing voice here - giving it a swirling, free-form language. This is my favorite set of the three, but all of them are resplendent with unbelievable phrasing and both formal and informal sweeps of style.

Gloriously Driven into Free Jazz: Albert Ayler's "Spiritual Unity"

This jazz is the ultimate street music, a strictly American concordance of honks, jabs, steely glances, cool indifference. Loaded with the blues, harboring an idealistic agitation -- Albert Ayler's Trio (Ayler on sax, Gary Peacock on bass, and Sunny Murray on percussion) created a free-form masterpiece with Spiritual Unity. Besotted with uncertainty, often harmonically at odds with themselves, and crackling with a new invented musical language, the players enter the stage from all sides (bottom and top as well) during 29 minutes of unbelievable phrasing and swirling interaction.

The groove present between the players is succinct -- there is no unnecessary information -- the disparate elements are somehow correctly connected, and infused with an undercurrent of uncertainty, a bit of doubt, trepidation, some fear and loathing.

Recorded on July 10, 1964 in NYC (and yes, Don Cherry was there, but not playing), this record (I'm critiquing the vinyl LP), was recorded in one session, in a hurry. That the three of them invented a new musical language (free jazz) in that spurious session is a testament to their genius: the quality of the moment ensured the often incompatible elements actually became inseparable.

That this album shepherded "free jazz' into the musical lexicon is now a minor distinction to the ultimate result: a glorious, contentious collection of blues-based tension that will cause a clash of vibrations in your ears. You need to listen to this album. On headphones. In the dark.

Play track 1.