Gil Scott-Heron, whose spoken-word poetry songs like “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” “Winter In America” and “We Almost Lost Detroit” were precursors to rap, left this mortal coil on Friday afternoon in New York. He was 62.
Gil, whom I knew through mutual friends, rejected the notion that he was the father of rap, explaining that his fusion of jazz, blues and soul was just black music. His lyrics were delivered in both rapping and melismatic vocal styling, and while he was the most modest of men, he was hugely proud that his songs were anthems for black militants in the 1960s and 70s.
Like too many brilliant people, Gil was dogged by demons, in his case an addiction to cocaine that at one point landed him in New York’s Rikers Island prison. He had cleaned up his life in recent years, resumed performing and had just returned from a European tour when he was stricken.
Gil had recorded prolifically in the 1970s but the album he released last year was only his second in 28 years.
Here are the lyric to my favorite Gil Scott Heron song, which he wrote in 1974, a notably dark time in modern American history. Download this YouTube video and let the words and the minimalistic instrumentals sink in:
WINTER IN AMERICA Uh from the Indians who welcomed the pilgrims
And to the buffaloes who once ruled the plains
Like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds looking for the rain
Looking for the rain
Just like the cities stagger on the coastline
In a nation that just can’t stand much more
Like the forest buried beneath the highway, never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to grow
And now it’s winter, winter in America
Yes now that all of the killers have been killed, sent away, Yeah
But the people know, the people know, it’s winter
Winter in America
And ain’t nobody fighting cause
Nobody knows what to say
Save your soul, lord knows from
Winter in America
The constitution, a noble piece of paper
With free society, a struggle but they died in vain
And now democracy is a ragtime on the corner
Hoping for some rain
It looks like he’s hoping, hoping for some rain
And I see the robins perched in barren treetops
Watching lasting racists marching across the floor
Just like the peace sign that vanished in our dreams
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to grow
And now it’s winter
Winter in America
Yes now that all of the killers have been killed, or betrayed, Yeah
But the people know, the people know, it’s winter
Lord knows it’s winter in America
And ain’t nobody fighting cause nobody knows what to say
Save your soul
From a winter in America
Stick
And now it’s winter
Winter in America
And now that all of the killers done been killed, sent away
The people know, the people know, it’s winter
Winter in America
And ain’t nobody fighting cause nobody knows what to say
And ain’t nobody fighting cause nobody knows nobody knows
And ain’t nobody fighting cause nobody knows what to say