The Revolution Will Be Digitally Televised

A Story To Tell is not the place to get overly mushy on you, but when I say that I have a lot to thank the girl in my life for, trust me, I mean a lot. One in a trillion. But one of the things that I have to thank her for most recently comes after a work trip she made to New York City a few weeks back. Now I am a big fan of the many attractions that New York has to offer and while I have had many a great night out there, one thing I have not yet managed is to take in any live music. Criminal I know, but there it is. So imagine my delight, tinged with a large side-salad of envy, when I get the call from said partner in a state of giddy excitement because she has just found out about a gig that night, timed to commemorate Martin Luther King Day, that she had secured a ticket for. And the artist in question? None other than Mr Gil Scott Heron, to my mind one of the greatest artists of his or any other generation.

I have always put off writing a posting on A Story To tell about Gil Scott Heron's music and influence because I simply don't know where to start. It is rare that I am lost for things to say when it comes to artists I admire, but for some reason it happens with him. He is simply one of my absolute heroes. I think it might be because I consider his insight to be so profound that I am unsure of my own abilities to analyse it or do it justice in any way. Maybe there is just too much to say, whether the incredible partnership with piano-man Brian Jackson, the benign and overt influence of his work on rap music, the soulfulness of his voice, the power of his use of words, or just the fascinating tale of his life, from moral highpoints to ongoing battles with substance abuse and the many contradictions that this brings.

Or perhaps because his work offers such a critique of American society that still resonates today. Listen to "Did You Hear What They Said" from 1972's Free Will album and tell me there are not echoes of sentiments in today's debates around the Gulf conflict. Listen to "The King Alfred Plan" from the same LP and think about the Patriot Act and Guantanamo. Just listen to the song most people know Gil Scott for, "The Revolution Will Not Be televised", and find me a better tear down of mass media's conceits, now or 40 years ago. Indeed, first three albums * 1970's "Small Talk at 125th & Lennox, 71's "Pieces Of A Man" and the afore-mentioned "Free Will" * are an astonishing output by anyone's standards, and up there with the likes of Stevie Wonder's own equally startling run of albums in the 1970s. Whatever the case, it is true that Gil Scott Heron's lyrics and poetry have provided some of the most important words to shape my own views on life, and some of the most memorable musical moments. Indeed it is the combination of the two that adds up to such greatness in my eyes. He's not a saint, but perhaps it is the failings and character glitches, the huamnness, that also add to the allure.

And so it was with good wishes, and yet a heavy heart, that I finished the phone call with my better half across the pond, thankful that at least one of us would see an artist that nestles among the highest reaches of my dream tickets. And was it a good show at S.O.Bs in the heart of downtown? You bet your bottom dollar it was, a fact that I can attest to because of the wonders of video messaging on cell phones, and the snippets that I was able to enjoy through this medium. That Heron is still battling with his demons is clear, but his voice remains strong, his eagerness to preach the good message undimmed, and his musical mastery a joy to behold. But if live front row clips weren't enough, there is another rejoinder to this tale of affection. As if seeing the man live was not enough, my good lady only had to stay behind and meet him after the show. Now that's just rubbing my nose in it, I'm sure you're thinking, as I did too. Except read on, because in doing so she also secured an autograph and message on a book of his music and spoken word pieces which I will now treasure for the rest of my days. I would not normally be an autograph seeker, but sometimes there are exceptions one has to make. I told you I had lots to thank her for.