Ayo Indonesia Bisa
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
News broke last night of the death of Gil Scott-Heron, the influential writer, poet, and musician whose marriage of politically charged spoken verse, propulsive rhythm, and blues and soul textures paved the way for hip-hop (though he would often reject that notion). The cause of death was not immediately made public, although his publicist said that he had taken ill shortly after returning from a European trip. He was 62.
Scott-Heron started out as a devotee of the poet and novelist Langston Hughes, moving from his Jackson, Tennessee hometown—where he was raised after being born in Chicago—to study at Pennsylvania’s Lincoln University, where Hughes had matriculated. It was there that Scott-Heron would write two early novels, The Vulture and The Nigger Factory, the first being published when he was only 19. He also formed the band Black & Blues with Brian Jackson, who would become one of his most frequent collaborators throughout the 1970s.
His first album, 1970’s Small Talk At 125th At Lenox, was recorded live at a nightclub at the titular address, with Scott-Heron (proclaimed on the cover as “A New Black Poet”) reciting his fiery verse over a minimalist backing of congas, piano, and guitar. It contains two of Scott-Heron’s most famous works: “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” and “Whitey On The Moon.” The latter was a mordant bit of street-level social commentary in which Scott-Heron contrasted the government’s recent triumph of the moon landing with the very real problems that were left behind here on Earth (“Was all that money I made last year / For whitey on the moon?”). And “Revolution”—which became even more popular after a full band re-recorded version was released in 1971—offered a dizzying array of pop culture references in its sly satire of a nation distracted by movie stars and sitcoms and the empty promises of consumerism, its wake-up call (and titular refrain) becoming a touchstone for generations of activists, poets, and musicians.
Scott-Heron’s incredible run of 13 albums in the ’70s and early ’80s, beginning with 1971’s more musically oriented Pieces Of A Man and continuing through 1982’s Moving Target, made him a critical darling, though widespread popularity eluded him. His essential 1974 album Winter In America came closest to breaking him through to a mainstream audience, thanks to the success of Caribbean-flavored single “The Bottle” (a song that’s been sampled by many hip-hop artists over the years, from the Jungle Brothers to De La Soul) and a jazz-fusion sound that incorporated African and funk rhythms. Many critics and artists over the years have pointed to Winter In America as a sort of blueprint for the hip-hop and neo-soul that would soon spring up in its wake.
For his part, Scott-Heron always rejected the notion that he had anything to do with hip-hop, preferring to call his music “bluesology,” and even occasionally saying that he didn’t want to “take the blame” for what rap would become. He would address his uneasy relationship with the genre he helped inspire most directly on 1994’s “Message To The Messengers”: The opening track on Spirits, Scott-Heron’s first album since taking a nearly 12-year break from recording, “Message” acknowledged that hip-hop was coming from the same place as the street poetry movement he’d been a part of alongside people like The Last Poets and The Watts Prophets, with Scott-Heron offering them some sage advice from the elder generation. “We got respect for you rappers and the way they be free-weighin'” he said, “But if you're gon' be teachin' folks things, make sure you know what you're sayin’”—urging them to learn “the real deal about past situations,” preach a message of peace to “all them gun-totin' young brothers” killing each other, and clean up all the derogatory rhymes aimed at objectifying women.
R.I.P. Gil Scott-Heron
News broke last night of the death of Gil Scott-Heron, the influential writer, poet, and musician whose marriage of politically charged spoken verse, propulsive rhythm, and blues and soul textures paved the way for hip-hop (though he would often reject that notion). The cause of death was not immediately made public, although his publicist said that he had taken ill shortly after returning from a European trip. He was 62.
Scott-Heron started out as a devotee of the poet and novelist Langston Hughes, moving from his Jackson, Tennessee hometown—where he was raised after being born in Chicago—to study at Pennsylvania’s Lincoln University, where Hughes had matriculated. It was there that Scott-Heron would write two early novels, The Vulture and The Nigger Factory, the first being published when he was only 19. He also formed the band Black & Blues with Brian Jackson, who would become one of his most frequent collaborators throughout the 1970s.
His first album, 1970’s Small Talk At 125th At Lenox, was recorded live at a nightclub at the titular address, with Scott-Heron (proclaimed on the cover as “A New Black Poet”) reciting his fiery verse over a minimalist backing of congas, piano, and guitar. It contains two of Scott-Heron’s most famous works: “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” and “Whitey On The Moon.” The latter was a mordant bit of street-level social commentary in which Scott-Heron contrasted the government’s recent triumph of the moon landing with the very real problems that were left behind here on Earth (“Was all that money I made last year / For whitey on the moon?”). And “Revolution”—which became even more popular after a full band re-recorded version was released in 1971—offered a dizzying array of pop culture references in its sly satire of a nation distracted by movie stars and sitcoms and the empty promises of consumerism, its wake-up call (and titular refrain) becoming a touchstone for generations of activists, poets, and musicians.
Scott-Heron started out as a devotee of the poet and novelist Langston Hughes, moving from his Jackson, Tennessee hometown—where he was raised after being born in Chicago—to study at Pennsylvania’s Lincoln University, where Hughes had matriculated. It was there that Scott-Heron would write two early novels, The Vulture and The Nigger Factory, the first being published when he was only 19. He also formed the band Black & Blues with Brian Jackson, who would become one of his most frequent collaborators throughout the 1970s.
His first album, 1970’s Small Talk At 125th At Lenox, was recorded live at a nightclub at the titular address, with Scott-Heron (proclaimed on the cover as “A New Black Poet”) reciting his fiery verse over a minimalist backing of congas, piano, and guitar. It contains two of Scott-Heron’s most famous works: “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” and “Whitey On The Moon.” The latter was a mordant bit of street-level social commentary in which Scott-Heron contrasted the government’s recent triumph of the moon landing with the very real problems that were left behind here on Earth (“Was all that money I made last year / For whitey on the moon?”). And “Revolution”—which became even more popular after a full band re-recorded version was released in 1971—offered a dizzying array of pop culture references in its sly satire of a nation distracted by movie stars and sitcoms and the empty promises of consumerism, its wake-up call (and titular refrain) becoming a touchstone for generations of activists, poets, and musicians.
0 Comments:
Posting Komentar