Gil Scott-Heron – I’m New Here

It’s been almost four decades since Gil Scott-Heron told us that the “revolution will not be televised.” Since then more than one revolution has been broadcast over the airwaves, including the diminishing relevance of the airwaves to the rise of the Internet waves. The world has changed since then, but time hasn’t erased those words from the lexicon of American culture. It has been almost 40 years since the album Pieces of a Man, which makes the title of Scott-Heron’s latest a bit ironic. But the changes that have occurred since then require a new state of mind, a new outlook on the world. For that we get the resurgence of Gil Scott-Heron.

The first thing you must know about I’m New Here is that the smooth as butter vocals that decorated Scott-Heron’s earlier ventures into traditional R&B/soul are gone. The years of hardship have transformed now 60-year-old voice into a grainy, rugged drawl that’s half way between elder Johnny Cash and your drunken uncle at the family barbeque. Within what lies much of the appreciation; it’s hard to imagine that this album would have the same appeal if Scott-Heron didn’t sound like he’s been to hell and back.

The two-part track that opens and closes the album dedicates it to the memory of the women in his life. “On Coming From A Broken Home (Pt. 1)” pays homage to his grandmother, and part two regards his mother. On both he speaks of the sacrifices of each and how they were essential for him to become the person he is today. In essence, the broken home was needed for the tales between each part to transpire.

What does occur from beginning to end is the gamut of emotions, utilizing a wide range of musical stylings. At many points I’m New Here has more in common with folk, with it’s straightforward storytelling and minimalist melodies, than it does with hip-hop (of which most would lazily classify this album). At other places of the narrative, like “Me and the Devil,” a booming trip-hop beat is used to frame the boisterous bluesy croon. Producer Richard Russell has supplied a plethora of flavors to savor the words of Scott-Heron.

“You may bury my body down by the highway side. So my old evil sprit, catch a greyhound bus and ride,” he sings on “Me and the Devil” taking cue from Robert Johnson. Whether pleading for soul his here or discussing that “ego on me the size of Texas,” on the acoustic title track, Gill Scott-Heron’s lyrics reveal new pieces of a man. “Your Soul and Mine” is an apocalyptic track narrating the final battle with the death vultures. The piano balladry of “I’ll Take Care of You” is the perfect vehicle for Scott-Heron’s pleas to a troubled love.

Littered through the album are small snippets that drop Confucius-like words of wisdom. “If you have to pay for things you’ve done wrong, I’ve got a big bill coming at the end of the day,” he philosophizes on “Being Blessed.” These interludes come and go in a matter of seconds between songs that themselves aren’t very long. The 15 tracks only accumulate to under half-a-hour, leaving you abruptly taken back. If there is one complaint to be had it’s that after a 15-year absence we only get 30 minutes to enjoy. But again it’s a faultless 30, which is better than a longer album packed with filler.

I’m New Here presents a renewed Gil Scott-Heron for a new day and age. Coincidently this album comes at the start of the new decade, the metaphorical setting of one sun and rising of another. He has made the transition from ghetto professor to folk hero, and in doing so has created something that goes beyond any genre of music. When the final chapter of Scott-Heron’s career is finally written, I’m New Here should stand right next to Pieces of a Man as his crowning achievements.

Tagged as: New York City, spoken word

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