Here is Gil Scott-Heron's 1974 track "The Bottle".
Some time ago I remember having a conversation with my friend Mark, around the time Kanye West released My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, about the trend of featured/guest artists on the majority of hip hop albums. Rap music has seemed to retain, and rightfully so, its ties to a foundation based in cipher (a cyclical rap session with multiple emcees rhyming one after the other). However, the first ciphers were mostly attended by emcees of like beliefs and experiences, and the cipher itself was a way in which these artists collectively told the stories of their communities.
I think Mark's reservation with the current practice of guest artists in hip hop is that many times a featured emcee functions more as a marketing tool rather than an additional voice to support or amplify a given aesthetic. I also think he's absolutely right.
For me, the most glaring example of this was during the LL Cool J and Canibus beef that captivated the hip hop world during the summer and fall of 1998. In the build-up to the war of words that followed their collaboration on LL's "4, 3, 2, 1", Canibus and LL had a phone conversation in an attempt to extinguish an inferno of hype and instigation that eventually led to their legendary battle. During that call, LL exposes how the higher-ups at his record label wouldn't allow Canibus to be in the video for "4, 3, 2, 1" and forced LL to replace 'Bus's verse with a rhyme from Master P; all in service of marketing to the South. (Listen to the entire call here. The part about Master P begins at 1:31. Note: this recording is not family friendly.)
What does all of this have to do with Scott-Heron, you ask?
Well, as I was listening to this track I began to wonder how a Gil Scott-Heron album would look and sound if it were released today. Setting aside anything about proper marketing or promotion, or whether or not Clear Channel or Viacom would ban him from their broadcasts for advocating against their corporate tyranny, what would it be? Who would produce the first single? Who would direct the first video? And who would possibly be able to appear as a guest on the album?
My first impulse is no one, at least not in a recording context. Any attempt to cram another singer or poet onto one of his tracks may only serve to weaken it through excess, dilution, or lack of focus. Gil is an absolute archetype and absolutely relentless in a way that is exceedingly specific to his own work. I've listened to quite a few poets and emcees over the years, and I simply can't imagine too many of them finding their footing within Gil's sense of political sophistication. That was the very root of his influence. Even though we've seen echos and remnants of it in recent times, the core of his impact will never be duplicated.
However, a live setting would be much different. And with the right guest artists (of which there are plenty) it would have been something to see.
Tonight, I'm a man of few words and tons of fatigue. Driving with no air conditioning through the heat wave of the decade takes its toll. Nevertheless, I didn't want to go to bed tonight without at least sharing another poem by our current Emcee of the Month, Gil Scott-Heron.
I'm sure Gil will succeed where I am failing tonight.
Quick Programming Note: I will be posting lightly this week. I have to finish learning lines for a play, and if I don't get down on it, I'm toast!
From the Village Voice article "Gil Scott-Heron, R.I.P." by Greg Tate:
You know why Gil never had much love for that ill-conceived Godfather of Rap tag? If you're already your own genre, you don't need the weak currency offered by another. If you're a one-off, why would you want to bask in the reflected glory of knock-offs? If you're already Odin, being proclaimed the decrepit sire of Thor and Loki just ain't gonna rock your world.
Gil knew he wasn't bigger than hip-hop—he knew he was just better. Like Jimi was better than heavy metal, Coltrane better than bebop, Malcolm better than the Nation of Islam, Marley better than the King James Bible. Better as in deeper—emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, politically, ancestrally, hell, probably even genetically. Mama was a Harlem opera singer; papa was a Jamaican footballer (rendering rolling stone redundant); grandmama played the blues records in Tennessee. So grit shit and mother wit Gil had in abundance, and like any Aries Man worth his saltiness he capped it off with flavor, finesse and a funky gypsy attitude.
In all honesty, I've been going back and forth about having the recently departed Scott-Heron as Emcee of the Month. When I first considered it, I thought it was a decent idea. Sure, my dinky little blog would never be capable of offering a fitting tribute to the loss of such a musical, literary, social, and cultural icon. But if I could contribute to the bouquet of voices celebrating his legacy with such poetry and brilliance, I felt that I would have done my part.
Then I read this article.
I was never aware of Gil's distaste of the recognition he received for being a direct predecessor to hip hop music. For me it seemed to be a natural connection. But after this read, I had to agree with Mr. Tate. Gil is way better than most of these emcees that currently occupy our radio waves and television screens. And though there is a connection, what he was doing was not rap. It's the wrong term for Gil's work, largely because it carries too much of today's social stigma. Gil was doing necessary sociopolitical commentary with flourish, aggression, and thought, accompanied by an instrumental heartbeat recognizable to black community. I don't know what the short and simple label would be that could fit the scope and complexity of his art, but it's certainly not "Godfather of Rap".
However, I do believe emcee is, at the very least, applicable to how he did what he did. The word we hip hoppers know as 'emcee' evolved from the homophonic acronym M.C., which stands for master of ceremonies. That's the key. A ceremony is an event or occasion of communal and spiritual importance; a rite of passage. The word's Latin origin 'ceremonia' means "sacredness" or "reverent rite". Therefore, an emcee's charge is to hold, guide, and enhance the ceremony. And considering his ability to do just that, Gil Scott-Heron was undeniably a master.
Here is Gil Scott-Heron's "The King Alfred Plan". Enjoy.
This is truly a loss. Scott-Heron epitomized revolution.
Gil Scott-Heron, the musician and poet who wrote The Revolution Will Not Be Televised and was seen by many as “the Godfather of Rap”, has died aged 62.
The US artist died in a New York hospital on Friday, after becoming sick on returning from a European trip.