My Own Biggest Fan

This morning I was listening to the new Kanye which ends with an extended sample of Comment No. 1 by Gil Scott-Heron, I remembered that I had a copy of Secrets that I was saving for MONM.

I love this guy. Funk and hip-hop of course have a long history of social commentary but not a lot of it is a poignant as his. Only knowing as much of his history as I’ve learned through osmosis and Wikipedia, he’s always struck me as the sort of writer who uses music as merely a vehicle for his words. Meaning, he sings more to get his thoughts into more people’s ears, and not because he’s a musician who also writes great lyrics. I don’t want to say it “sugarcoats” his poetry, but it certainly makes the medicine go down easier.

This is also not to say that Gil doesn’t have a great voice, or that the music isn’t quality. It’s been my theory that the only reason that Gil Scott-Heron isn’t as big of a household name as say Barry White or Isaac Hayes, is that his lyrics and music are just that much more challenging. His voice is easily as sexy as either of those guys — if more vulnerable and less refined. The music is also more raw and jazz-influenced than more commercial soul artists, probably thanks to Brian Jackson, his long-time collaborator.

I found this album in the basement of a Mount Royal house during an estate sale. The other records in the piles were all yiddish folk music and classical 78s. It didn’t surprise me that it was there because the entire house was full of similar juxtapositions: modernist desks, turn of the century quackery instruments, mortar and pestle collections, japanese wall hangings, etc. The reason I bring this up is that I am not really sure who is reading this blog, so I might sometimes write as if the reader has never heard of an artist that many (most) of you are already well versed in. I don’t mean to be insulting, or for it to seem that I’m claiming some sort of authority that I’ve barely earned. I just get excited about music and I’m using this place as a way to explain the way I think about and enjoy it.

I’m obviously not a soul music scholar, and perhaps the fact that I’m a white guy talking about the “poignancy” of Gil Scott-Heron’s lyrics makes me all too aware that my footing is shaky at best 90% of the time. What I’m saying is that I’m acutely aware that I’m talking out of my ass, in case you were wondering. This post more so than others, I’m having a hard time writing something worth reading so I’ll just end it here.

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