Boxes and Bytes: vinyl

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.

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.