Gil Scott-Heron

Gil Scott-Heron (1949-2011) was an American soul and jazz poet, musician, and author, known primarily for his work as a spoken word performer in the 1970s and '80s. His collaborative efforts with musician Brian Jackson featured a musical fusion of jazz, blues, and soul, as well as lyrical content concerning social and political issues of the time. He is sometimes called the "Godfather of Rap", but his own term for himself was "bluesologist", which he defined as "a scientist who is concerned with the origin of the blues." His music, most notably on Pieces of a Man and Winter in America in the early 1970s, influenced and helped engender later African-American music genres such as Rap, Hip Hop and Neo Soul.

Here is one of his songs, "The Train from Washington".



During reconstruction time they were folks who had been promised 40 acres and a mule.
And they were told a man with their legal papers could be expected on a train from Washington.
They were folks who waited for him and there are folks who are still waiting for him.
But you can't depend on the train from Washington, it's 100 years overdue

You can depend on the stars and planets yeah
They'll always tell you the truth
You can depend on the 15th of April yeah
Somehow it always gets through
You can depend on the daily paper 'cause
They sure 'nuff bring you the blues
But don't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue

I see people, dragging on their own
I see them standing anxious near the tracks
I see people, a long long way from home
Wondering how they'll ever get back

You can depend on the politicians yeah
Always got a point of view
They are contemporary court magicians yeah
The sleight of mouth will dazzle you
You can depend on a weak position from them
Changes that you've got to go through
But don't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue

I see people, on their way to work
I see factories bursting at the seams
I see people listening for the whistle
On the train that will carry their dreams

I see people, on their way to work
I see factories bursting at the seams
I see people listening for the whistle
On the train that will carry their dreams

You can depend on the folks and gravity
'Cause both of them will bring you down
You can depend on catching something yeah
'Cause something is going around
You can depend on the first two numbers, but
Damn if the last one comes through
But don't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue

You can't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue
Oh lord you see
You can't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue
Don't you over
But don't depend on the train from Washington
Eh eh eh .. eh you know it might not make it
You can't depend on the train from Washington
Everybody knows it's it's running it's running late
You can't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue
It's long long time
You can't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue

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Here is another Gil Scott-Heron song called, "Is that Jazz?" He pays tribute to some of the great Jazz musicians of our time.



Basie was never really commonplace
He was always measures ahead.
Ellington was more than number one
For the music and things that he said.
Bird was the word back when tenors were heard
From Kansas right up to the Prez
And Billie was really the Queen of a scene
That keeps echoing on in my head.

What it has will surely last but is that Jazz?

Miles had a style that amazes and raises
The spirits from deep in your soul.
'Trane struck a vein of laughter and pain
Adventures the mind could explore.
Stevie and Bob talk of freedom and 'Jah'
In their own individual ways.
Playing and singing as long as its bringing
A message is all that it says.

What is has will surely last but is that Jazz?

We overanaylze we let others define
A thousand precious feelings from our past.
When we express love and tenderness
Is that Jazz? Is that Jazz? Is that Jazz? Is that Jazz?
Dizzy's been busy while Grover gets us over
With notes that go straight to the heart.
Brother Ron gets it on with a bassline so strong
That the sounds seem to glow in the dark.
I take pride in what's mine - is that really a crime -
When you know I ain't got nothing else?
Only millions of sounds picks me up when I'm down;
Let me salvage a piece of myself.

What it has will surely last but is that Jazz?

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This is a remake of a song originally recorded by Marvin Gaye, "Inner City Blues". Gil Scott-Heron added a spoken word poem, "The Siege of New Orleans" to the song to make it his own.



Rockets and moon shots
And blame it on the have-nots
Money, we made it
Even before we see it, they’ll take it

Yeah, make you wanna holler right on
The way they do your life
Make you wanna holler right on
The way they do your life

Inflation means there ain’t no chance
To increase a little bit of finance
Bills they go up pile up the sky
Send that boy of to die

Yeah, make you wanna holler right on
The way they do your life
Make you wanna holler right on
The way they do your life

Hang ups and let downs
And Bad breaks and set backs
The natural, natural fact is
And baby, I can’t pay those taxes

Yeah, make me wanna holler sometime
And throw up both of my hands
And make me wanna holler sometime
And throw up both my hands

So you say you never heard of the ‘Inner City Blues’
And what’s more you don’t understand it all
What the ghetto folks mean about ‘living behind walls’?
Then put on your best suit, white shirt and tie
And run on downtown to stand in line
For a job washing dishes but you may not qualify.
Walk a big hole in a new pair of shoes
And you’ve had your first look at the ‘Inner City Blues’.
Go looking for a place to live but all the while
Beware of what’s lurking behind the devil’s smile.
Are we stupid or just naive that we continues to believe
Money can buy us anything
Including a slice of ‘the American Dream’?
Yeah, answer ads in the paper about ‘houses for sale’
And get treated like Charles Manson out on bail
When you start to get frustrated by the tactics they use
You'll recognize that, feeling
It's the ‘Inner City Blues’
Yeah make you wanna holler sometimes
And throw up both your hands

And haven’t you ever wondered about
Why some brothers and sisters were down and out?
Receiving their sympathy from a bottle of wine
Or worse yet ‘old homicide’
Living their lives in a glassine bag
While praising the mysteries of terminal scag?
Some of our brothers are on parading in drag?
Another set of victims to what you choose
Yeah you can recognize that, that's the inner city blues
Makes you want to holler sometimes and throw up both your hands

To see sweet sisters, blossoms of our African tree
Profiling on the corner, talking 'bout ten and three
Because in spite of all the money we made and taxes we paid
The woman was looking at hungry days and some decisions had to be made
Would you tell her it's better to go to your grave as a slave to a minimum wage
Well, I hardly think so, but makes you want to holler
And throw up both your hands

And what happens when people start to think they have nothing to lose
Nothing to lose

Did you ever hear about Mark Essex and the things that made him choose to fight the inner city blues
Yeah, Essex took to the rooftops guerilla style and watched while all the crackers went wild
Brought in 600 troops, brand new I hear, to see them crushed with fear
Essex fought back with a thousand rounds and New Orleans was a changing town
Rat a tat tat tat was the only sound, yeah
Bring on the stone rifles to knock down walls
Bring on the elephant guns
Bring on the helicopters to block out the sun
Yeah, made the devil wanna holler cause 8 was dead and a dozen was down
Cries for freedom were a brand new sound
New York, Chicago, Frisco, LA
Justice was served and the unjust were afraid
Because in spite of all the years and all the fears
Brothers were alive to courage found and spreading them goddamn rules around
Yeah, make you wanna holler black people and hold up both your hands and say
Liberation!

Crime is increasing
And trigger happy policing
Panic is panic is spreading
And Lord knows where I'm heading
Make you wanna holler sometimes
Throw up both your hands
Make you wanna holler sometimes
And throw up both your hands