Gil Scott-Heron has Passed

A voice that had something to say went silent yesterday. Gil Scott-Heron voiced emotions & ideas that went above and beyond the times that he spoke them. Listen to his work and it is evident that it remains on point & relevant even though the names (Nixon, Agnew & Regan) have slipped into history. There is timelessness found in his work. Did his work make people comfortable? No. Did it make people think? Always. Mark Twain / Samuel Clemons once said about writing, “A writer’s job is to comfort the afflicted and to afflict the comfortable.” Gil Scott-Heron did just that. You may not have agreed with what he had to say but words he spoke had an edge and an honesty that refused to be ignored.

Here is what Gil Scott-Heron’s website tells you about him: http://gilscottheron.net/about/ - “Gil Scott-Heron (born April 1, 1949) is an American poet, musician, and author known primarily for his late 1960s and early 1970s work as a spoken word soul performer and his collaborative work with musician Brian Jackson. His collaborative efforts with Jackson featured a musical fusion of jazz, blues and soul music, as well as lyrical content concerning social and political issues of the time, delivered in both rapping and melismatic vocal styles by Scott-Heron. The music of these albums, most notably Pieces of a Man and Winter in America in the early 1970s, influenced and helped engender later African-American music genres such as hip hop and neo soul. Scott-Heron’s recording work is often associated with black militant activism and has received much critical acclaim for one of his most well-known compositions “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised”. On his influence, Allmusic wrote “Scott-Heron’s unique proto-rap style influenced a generation of hip-hop artists”.”

Here are some examples of his work from Boing Boing, “In Memoriam: Gil Scott-Heron, ‘The People’s Poet’”: http://www.boingboing.net/2011/05/27/gil-scott-heron-rip.html?dlvrit=36761.

Once I read the Twitter feed this AM that Scott-Heron had passed I, admittedly, had to tap into the deep recesses of my memory banks. I first became aware of his work with, “Whitey on the Moon.” I was a little too young for, “The Revolution will Not be Televised”, and I was just a kid with the poignant, “B-Movie” was birthed. Gil Scott-Heron most recent album, “I’m New Here,” was his first album in 16 years and was released in February of 2010.

Here is a great article by Alan Wilkinson from the New Yorker entitled, “New York is Killing Me”: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2010/08/09/100809fa_fact_wilkinson?currentPage=all

Dependency can blind. Classically someone who is addicted does not see it. They believe, whole heartedly, that the next high will achieve some new level of consciousness (for artistic or spiritual awareness), relieve the pain that they feel (real or conjured) or they simply have the taste for oblivion. The worst part is that while they perceive it to be a victimless crime the people who pay the cost are those closest to them; their closest family members, their children, their significant other. The individual can not see this price paid in full by their loved ones. It just does not register. Monique de Latour (his ex-girlfriend at the time from the New Yorker piece); when she says, “There is a very gentle person inside Gil,” she said, “but very remote. It’s the little boy who lived with his grandmother in Jackson. He used to say to me, ‘I wish you knew me before I was like this.’ ” By “this” he meant before his addiction to crack cocaine.

In the Wikipedia, my favorite second brain has a great quote from Fairfax New Zealand (February 2010) that reads, “Gil Scott-Heron released poems as songs, recorded songs that were based on his earliest poems and writings, wrote novels and became a hero to many for his music, activism and his anger. There is always the anger - an often beautiful, passionate anger. An often awkward anger. A very soulful anger. And often it is a very sad anger. But it is the pervasive mood, theme and feeling within his work - and around his work, hovering, piercing, occasionally weighing down; often lifting the work up, helping to place it in your face. And for all the preaching and warning signs in his work, the last two decades of Gil Scott-Heron's life to date have seen him succumb to the pressures and demons he has so often warned others about.”

My prayers go out to his family & loved ones at this time.



…Picture of Ms. Scott-Heron from Wikipedia

The Facebook Intervention

I love the internet. Seriously. I love it. I blog, I Facebook, I Twitter; I love it. I find it a wonderful little outlet of thought and idea. Since I’d be writing anyway why should I not do so electronically?

I also play poker; badly, mind you, but I play. I sit in on one of the longest standing poker games in Southern New Jersey. It is a group of interesting souls who make up the seven who sit around that table, including yours truly. We meet and play on the first Friday of each month. So, it was no surprise that on 8/7/09, that is where I was. We grilled and it was great. We played cards and that was a lot of fun too. And then came the intervention. After one hand of Texas Hold ‘Em one of my comrades told a story of his wife giggling about some piece of silliness that I wrote on Facebook. Apparently I had used the words, “good night”.

“Why… WHY, on God’s green earth would you say “good night” to anyone on Facebook? I just don’t get it.” Said the man to my left. The man to my left happens to be quite computer savvy and in some circles he is near the top of his game.

“Yeah, it doesn’t make any sense.” Said the man to my right. He is a brilliant man as well.

“I don’t have the time for any of that stuff.” Said the man opposite of me.

“Hey, I just got on to share photos with my family.” Said the man next to him trying to distance himself from yours truly in any way possible for the moment. He could see the tide turn.

“Yeah, you Twitter to, don’t you?” another asked who happens to be on Facebook as well.

“Yes, I do.” I said with a smile.

“You know what I think it is?” the man to my left asked. “It is just a group of people starved for attention. Look at me! Look at me!”

“Like a narcissist.” I said.

“Yes.” He said. So why do you do it? Why do you think that I CARE what you have to say?”

“Well, I think you can make a case for narcissism in some cases when it comes to Facebook.” I said. “But you would be painting with broad brushstrokes.” I understand that whether you care about what is written on Facebook or do not is subjective and up to the reader to decide. “If you don’t like what you read stop reading it. That’s why they make so many flavors of ice cream.”

“Then why?” Asked the man to my right.

“Social networking. It’s a tool.” I said. “Facebook is a wonderful way to be personably impersonal.

“That does not answer the question.”

“Look, I don’t have to tell any of you sitting here at this table how much I despise the phone.” There was a general nodding of heads around the table. They know (and now you do too, Gentle Reader) that I hate talking on the telephone. The contraption just demands entirely too much of my attention at any one time. I like information in digestible, well reasoned, bits – say in an email, on Facebook or on Twitter. It is simple; to the point, and just how I like it. “Facebook is a social tool. How the reader reads it or does NOT read it is purely up to them.” The simple fact of the matter is that’s the way it is with anything. I could tell you that there is a wonderful world to be found in the pages of a book but unless you pick it up and read one for yourself it is pretty much moot. People either will accept a message or reject it. The gentlemen on either side of me remain in a reject it frame of mind.

Oh well. These friends of mine and I just don’t socialize on Facebook. And the world keeps on moving. We socialize while playing cards and that is a good thing.

As for narcissism, “I” am one of my favorite subjects but I am more than well aware that the world does not revolve around me, my blog, my Facebook account or my Twitter feed. These gentlemen were casting aspersions that it did. Ah the power of the written word – even if it is electronic in nature. And, dare I say, even if those casting stones did not have their own Facebook or Twitter accounts.

Que sara sara.

As much as I hate the telephone I wonder how many people said to Alexander Graham Bell, “Why would you ever want to use THAT thing?” Only Bell knows and he’s not saying. I guarantee he heard it though. Fast forward to a hot summer night in 2009 with a group of friends sitting around a poker table some willing to use a different form of communication and some not. No matter what technological advance may come to us now or in the future there are going to be those who resist. Some will get it some will not.

Oh well. Que sara sara.

As for yours truly, Gentle Reader, I know enough about addiction to see that I have not yet hit rock bottom. It is only from the bottom that I can truly make progress and admit that I have a problem. Until then, I’ll see you on Facebook, on Twitter, and right here on the electronic pages of Chicken Scratch – LONG MAY SHE WAVE!