The Passing of Gil Scott-Heron

(I know this doesn't sum up the man, his life nor the entirety of his work- this is just how his contributions have struck a chord with my me.)


Yesterday (May 27th, 2011) Gil Scott-Heron died. The poet, singer and inspiration for much of my music passed on, and it hit me in an unexpected way. I felt the feeling of immediate grief and a sense that my people, Black people and people of consciousness lost a Garvey, a Malcolm or a Martin. In that those truth tellers unadulterated by a culture of co-opted ignorance, denial, not infected by the slave syndrome that has caused some folks of color to want to comfort white supremacy and capitalism. Gil Scott-Heron was the antithesis of the sellout masked in proper English that soothed the mainstream's denial - he was rather the poet of the revolution, the singer of the blues trying to find its place for a fix. Real and true the feelings evoked in his works that they never felt contrived but lived and breathed like a folk singer, like who he really was: Gil Scott-Heron.

Pieces Of a Man was always my favorite, a true tale of being Black in America, or laid off in America. I understand why my White friends liked his works too. Pieces of a man told to an equally emotional,passionate and soft piano; always felt to me like the kind of music/art that comes from being lived and felt and watched up close in the presence of pain that brings forth light. The light shown bright. Of course another favorite of mine was The Revolution Will Not Be Televised. Turning the commercial symbols of capitalism on their heads to make the point that they will not be the source of our collective empowerment, liberation or enlightenment - this truth is still evident today as commercial enterprise (global commerce, oil/energy and weapons/war profiteers) are seeing extreme profits like nothing seen before in history, yet most Americans do not bask in this financial windfall. Our eduction is being cut, our environment polluted and innocent people near and far are being murdered by these profiteers! The Revolution Will Not Be Televised is as appropriate now as it was 30 years ago! Great art does this, great artists evoke a sense of timeless truth that cannot be taught at Ivy League schools nor formulated into a theory with predictable input, output; these things are lived and breathed and directly experienced. I feel quite lucky and blessed to have heard Gil Scott's voice, music and poetry. My generation of hip-hop has been directly influenced by his body of work and the spirit of it...None the less I must admit that over a year ago I had a chance to go see him at a famous jazz club here in the Bay and didn't go. I invited a friend who quickly reminded me of how Gil Scott had fallen to drug abuse and how sad it would be to see a legend in that state. I was all too quick to agree and didn't go. When I heard of his passing last night I quickly flashed back to this missed opportunity and how 6 months after this show I read an interview he did in Waxpoetics magazine and he talked about how he had got caught with less than a gram of cocaine ($20 worth!) was doing jail time for this possession, and how while it was a mistake, it was blown way out of proportion. Posing the question: How many of us have done something stupid: drove a little drunk, had less than a gram on us, ran a red light etc? but just didn't get caught? The article also talked a lot about the state of America (the arrogance of world domination), as well as hip-hop and how he loved the art form but just wished us mcees would actually say something in our music, and not just talk about the last mcee we disliked. The article inspired me greatly to say the least. Last night I couldn't sleep, thinking "Who will speak for us now?" Then I remembered that like the truth speakers before Gil Scott-Heron (Langston Hughes was a big influence of his), we must carry the torch, the mic, the soapbox forward as well.

Love and peace to an ancestor that has left us w/ a legacy to carry forward!

You ever had one of these moments???

It seems customer service is a thing of the past...not enough sauce on the side, waiters getting attitudes and all, and then this...i would write a song about it, but i think this sticky note sums it up nicely! now for more guacamole on my beats!!!

On the way from the Town to the City

I was in the City today (City is Bay talk for San Francisco, the Town is Bay talk for Oakland ;) and was coming out of the BART train station there on Powell street, when I heard this cat singing a song on a guitar that sounded familiar, it wasn't until I paid my fare that I realized he was singing a guitar acoustic version of Cali Swag's "Teach Me How to Dougie". I can't front I'm not a fan of the radio/video version, not on some ol hip-hop puritan $hit, but just aint feelin it in a "let me hear the next release you got, cuz this one aint doin it for me" kinda thing...In any event I heard this dude rocking the acoustic version of the song, and it sounded kind of dope. So I dubbed a clip to share with ya'll, and promised to pass the clip along for (an)other(s). Dig it...

sOuL in Bolivia...more to come.

Oakland/The Town/Snapshot pieces

Abacush the dilema: to download or support the obscure reggae dubness...

As an artist you sometimes find the funkiest and most unexpected inspiration from the most random of places. Yesterday I was listening to WeFunk radio episode 620 and tripped on a track they played by some group called Abacush, whose song was of the same title. It's a dope reggae song that turned dub at the end, like so many reggae cuts do, but this one sparked my interest for some reason. Perhaps it was the Cush reference or the obscurity of the group that got me, or the the mighty dubbness of it all towards the end (me and the dub/reggae have a close relationship on a feelin' heart and soul thing) plus the song was dropped in the most obtuse and comfortable of places, after a horace andy cut and before a pharrell from the neptunes/n.e.r.d one - talk about a diverse mix of music....anywho, as I digress I found it to be a bad ass reggae track and wanted to be able to listen to it on the go in the ride, the headphones and what not, so I was at a dilemma: do i dub it right off of the WeFunk site and risk being taken to court by the record industry like that poor lady in Minnesota who had to pay 1.5 million for downloading 24 songs, or do I support the artist by looking for them on amazon or itunes etc and pay the .99cents for the mp3?? I decided to look them up on the web to buy their song thinking they were an obscure group and deserved the dap and support. When I did I found nothing to download, nothing! Site after site, didn't offer anything to purchase but I was able to gather from blogs and youtube that the group was an all female group that did their thing in the 80's, but as far as download?? Nada! Nothing but this YouTube clip. So I'm dubbin it and sharing it with ya'll. If anyone comes across a site selling their stuff please do share! In the mean time, enjoy and lets all celebrate great music!

"You have to be into hip-hop to go underground!"

Minna Gallery graph shot SF!

"You have to be into hip-hop to go underground" wise words spoken by a music cat I build sound with. On the surface it struck me like it was the heaviest shit because of it's simplicity yet almost profound truth hidden in the statement. Feel it for a second: Hip-Hop is now like many storefront sneaker boutiques. While walking by... the occasional hip-hopper see's a rapper in the storefront (top 40 listed, on your "hip-hop and r&b, quiet storm" station) manickan rocking the image they can get with, maybe the beat makes em dance, they girl loves the dude on the mic especially after the dj spun that single @ the party last night, so they walk inside the store maybe not even being able to identify with the message, the lyrics just surface enough to make em nod they heads, no questions without simple answers etc. They get the latest sound casting a spell and go on they way....Meanwhile the discerning hip-hop listener, fan, beat lover etc walks by the same boutique hears the same cat standing in the store front window, knows his music is used to it, and recollects how they too begun with that in they rap starter kit, but decide to go into the boutique store, but not for the storefront mcee, they since have since moved on, they walk through the store, sliding through the hangers on racks, vinyl in stacks looking for that thing that takes them back, yet inspires the new. The same cadence aint gonna save it from being deleted off of they mp3 player, so they figure they must search for that different pitch, abstract with a twist hard, refreshing reminding them why they love "that thing" by the time they look up to find what it is they are drawn to they are in the basement of the boutique.

The stairs that led them down had the words "underground" graphiti'd on the brick wall. Incense burning, they know the simple will no longer do for them, and not only that when they tell their top 40 friends about the kicks they picked they have a hard time following the flow, the delivery got them scratching their heads. See they never went past the cash register in that boutique never seen what it looks like when it aint for a deal, money, or fame- never thirsted for more, as they are still chewing on the mass produced and well marketed. Like how your first beers might have been a Mickies, or Corona but you learned to appreciate the finer pilsners, pale ales and malts got hipped to the red stripes, fat tires, graduating to guiness with chocolate. when ya into hip-hop the beginners brew fades and you learn about the complex tastes of the underground giving meaning to the statement: "You have to be into hip-hop to go underground!"