Long player: Message more important than melody

On the release of Gil Scott-Heron's 1971 album Pieces of a Man, African-American monthly magazine Ebony summed up the artist thus: "He is a genius and he is beautiful". 

Where to from there? Well, lest it be accused of hyperbole the publication went on to acknowledge Scott-Heron's strengths were as a poet rather than singer. Message was more important than melody, it said, the scraping at raw truth being mirrored in Scott-Heron's naive vocalising.

It's certainly true that the 22-year-old performer lacked the finesse of a Marvin Gaye or a Curtis Mayfield, but his singing on the album does carry its share of emotional weight and is dextrous enough to negotiate undulating backing arrangements led by pianist and long-time associate Brian Jackson.

Pain, anger and disillusionment are plainly evident in Scott-Heron's treatise on political and social issues of the times, as is hope in the album's more optimistic moments. It's an honest piece of work in every sense.

The album's most celebrated number is the sole track to feature Scott-Heron's more familiar spoken-word delivery. The Revolution Will Not Be Televised opens proceedings with a biting critique of the media and middle-class preoccupations, setting in place the template for every rap and hip-hop act to follow.

Swap out the much-sampled song-poem's references to Nixon and Natalie Wood with ones that cite Bush and Anne Hathaway, and the number would be as relevant today as it was when it first appeared on Scott-Heron's 1970 live LP Small Talk at 125th and Lennox.

But while Revolution is a masterful mix of satire and soothsaying, it stands alone and disconnected from the balance of the tracks.

All others find Scott-Heron in soulful mood and voice, working against a backdrop of mellow jazz-funk complete with fluttering flute and skittering drums.

Lady Day And John Coltrane and Home Is Where The Hatred Is are equally strong examples of the soul-poet's genius.

 

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