thank you for everything.
I am a radio and bar dj, hope to keep listening good music.
thanks..
Comment left by giorgos · Wednesday February 17, 2010 · #
I’ve been waiting….for sixteen years…..patiently……faithfully…..with high hopes in mind and “spirits” for some fresh expression from the artist that I’ve been so interested in hearing from. God only knows how prayerful I’ve been for his salvation and rejuvenation. I have nothing but praises to send out to God……who “sits at the corner of forever” and watches us all. Thank you Gil. You’re a survivor…..rivaled by few, if any, in my humble estimation. You are no longer “the prisoner”………share your “secrets”…..it ain’t 1980……but freee will remains…….consider this your “ESSEX”.
Comment left by Rex Cooper · Friday February 19, 2010 · #
GiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiL: your comeback is GREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Comment left by Luca · Saturday February 20, 2010 · #
Dear Gil,
I seen you preform in New York several years ago. I had
front row! Happi that you are still producing…
Stay free my friend…
Peace
From one ARTIST to another ARTIST
Comment left by starr · Saturday February 20, 2010 · #
Welcome back Gil … it’s been awhile … glad you’re who you are still … let’s connect again and this time, let’s stay on the same track … your friend, Bernard
Comment left by Bernard Rouse · Monday February 22, 2010 · #
Gil Scott Heron’s first album for many years, thanks notably to the strange circumstances of a prison stint for drug possession is called: I’m New Here and it reveals a man stripped bare, a man with nothing left to prove, just poetry to send into the labyrinth of history, just one of music’s incredible voices, still a most formidable poetic instrument, one capable of striking the perfect chord even for a split second to send signals of whatever mood Heron wishes to the listener’s heart. So no more disco outfits, no more cocky stand-up humour, no more strutting up and down the stage. The new Heron is seated, reflective, his back slightly arched, his speech slightly slurred, his voice crackled. His vision cast back over his existence, but not his career, over his childhood years, his identity, his broken home, ruins of another black man’s life, as far as Robert Johnson, and an outrageously impertinent rendition of ‘Me and the Devil,’ to the core, the poetry that has always been the source of Heron’s work since his first book at the age of thirteen. And this is what we need to hear…..
At the heart on a level with backbone and grace, lies the voice, that river which never dies and will live on even in its dying. And we don’t even need to call them poems, we could call them spoken word, we could call them conversations with the soul. What they do is speak and relentlessly, hauntingly, as their seeming improvisations rise and fall, relying a great deal on rhythm and repetition, to carry them through, over their lulls, their emptiness, and send them into song. Lines reverberate. This memory is alive. African spirit. And still strange sounds clash and beat in the backgrounds. You can feel the smoke rising. Hands clap. Primitive hands. Collisions and clangings resonate. Sounds from after the apocalypse (hasn’t it already taken place in silence?). Sounds from a man who somehow escaped his own destiny, his own pain, to keep declaiming poetry, to keep believing in beauty because first of all he believed it in himself and his loved ones, his women. Poetry synonymous with love, from the absolute depths, from the marrow in his bones. Because you see:
they can strip the poet of everything, but the more you strip the poet of what he has, the stronger he becomes in what he is, and what he is, is a poet, a poet with a voice and this man has one hell of a voice and he might be weak, and he’s certainly old, but his poetry runs through these ruins with force and freedom, because talent can be attacked and imprisoned, freedom can be outlawed and people slandered, words can be altered, smothered or destroyed, but poetry from the marrow will keep raising its head and singing, as long as the poet can lift his arm to write or open his mouth to speak, because it is all from memory, the deepest memory, memory of mankind, memory of the world.
Gil Scott Heron is still there beside us to dry our weeping eye. And we feel like stretching out toward the old genius to console his own palpable sadness, like passing him a light for a cigarette from heaven, from where he belongs. Because in his words:
… I always feel like running not away because there’s no such place because if there was I would have found it by now because it’s easier to run easier than staying and finding out you’re the only one who didn’t run because running will be the way your life and mine will be described as in the long run or as in having given someone a run for his money or as in running out of time because running makes me look like everyone else though I hope there will never be cause for that because I will be running in the other direction not running for cover because if I knew where cover was I would stay there and never have to run for it not running for my life because I have to be running for something of more value to be running and not in fear because the thing I fear cannot be escaped eluded avoided hidden from protected from gotten away from not without showing the fear as I see it now….
If you understand that. If you follow the run, the myriad dodges and dives in his step, then you understand where he’s coming from…. I feel I do. I have listened to practically every song he’s thrown out here over the years and I’m glad he’s back and I’m glad he’s new here because it’s still palpably Winter in America and not just from the snow. There’s no point in speaking about our disappointment in the New World Order. There’s no point in speaking about old hopes and revolutions. There’s no point today in useless polemic. There are graver matters at hand. Like staying alive. Keeping these words alive. Spoken roots. For the moment this poetry is politics enough.
Dom Gabrielli (Poet and Writer)
Comment left by dominic · Monday February 22, 2010 · #
Sometimes I wonder, what type of life had I led, had i remained asleep with so many other sheep, doing my daily time, thinking my government is crime free blame free, and corruption free.
Gil, you woke me up before I was ready to be awake. I was listening to you as a child, crying tears of a man yet to be, and I thank you for that.
Your music has been a part of my soul since then, and I still find time to expose you to those that missed out the first time.
I used to recite word for word “The revolution will not be televised”.
When I saw the riots first hand, I knew it was not the revolution, because it was televised, showing our ugliness in multiple flavors, showing our greed/need, and anger all at once.
Man, I was there when the CIA crack bomb exploded, and killed a lot of my friends, turned my neighbors into slaves, the women I adored into strawberry whores, and my neighborhood to killing fields. I praise God that I survived it (so far)but I know the strength of the devil because I fought his grip with all my might, and only with help from the hand of God was I able to pull free.
Welcome back, my brother, persevere persevere, persevere!
Comment left by alstarx · Monday February 22, 2010 · #
As I was walking home the other night, enjoying and spiritually embracing the darkness and stars…and my solitude; I found myself thinking about a particular song (there are so very many to recall/relect/revel in) that you wrote called “Combinations”.
I found myself easily able to recall everything about that particular piece. I started singing it to myself humming/imatating the music…..adding the lyrics…..the tone (humble, appreciative, hopeful and trusting. Pausing/Thinking about what its meanings are when you read between the lines. I recalled that it has been and remains one of my all-time favorite by you, Gil.
For those of you who may not have been privy to this song….read on:
Combinations
“I’ve got a feeling, about combinations and how they work out so well. It only happens when people don’t dwell on…the time or the feeling.
And about combinations it’s true that…North and South attract.
Yes, but forever ain’t a fact….to consider like our combination.
And you can tear this moment down. And you can make me explain every little thing and every situation.
But life life turns itself around. And all the laughter and the pain…..simply….helps us to maintain…our combination.
And I know a sister, who says combinations are created in the stars. Something to do with my Venus and my Mars…being in line. To bring about combinations that will mix in my mind….until I’m never quite satisfied by…any but our combination.”
Thank you for coming back to us Gil. It’s been too long. Please stay with us. We need your input. ALLUSWE love you my brother!
Comment left by Rex Cooper · Monday February 22, 2010 · #
I’m impressed, I must say. Very often I found a blog that makes both educational and fun, I have more powerful website at Onan Generators or Propane generators
Comment left by Home Security · Friday March 4, 2011 · #
thank you for everything.
I am a radio and bar dj, hope to keep listening good music.
thanks..
Comment left by giorgos · Wednesday February 17, 2010 · #
I’ve been waiting….for sixteen years…..patiently……faithfully…..with high hopes in mind and “spirits” for some fresh expression from the artist that I’ve been so interested in hearing from. God only knows how prayerful I’ve been for his salvation and rejuvenation. I have nothing but praises to send out to God……who “sits at the corner of forever” and watches us all. Thank you Gil. You’re a survivor…..rivaled by few, if any, in my humble estimation. You are no longer “the prisoner”………share your “secrets”…..it ain’t 1980……but freee will remains…….consider this your “ESSEX”.
Comment left by Rex Cooper · Friday February 19, 2010 · #
GiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiL: your comeback is GREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Comment left by Luca · Saturday February 20, 2010 · #
Dear Gil,
I seen you preform in New York several years ago. I had
front row! Happi that you are still producing…
Stay free my friend…
Peace
From one ARTIST to another ARTIST
Comment left by starr · Saturday February 20, 2010 · #
Welcome back Gil … it’s been awhile … glad you’re who you are still … let’s connect again and this time, let’s stay on the same track … your friend, Bernard
Comment left by Bernard Rouse · Monday February 22, 2010 · #
Gil Scott Heron’s first album for many years, thanks notably to the strange circumstances of a prison stint for drug possession is called: I’m New Here and it reveals a man stripped bare, a man with nothing left to prove, just poetry to send into the labyrinth of history, just one of music’s incredible voices, still a most formidable poetic instrument, one capable of striking the perfect chord even for a split second to send signals of whatever mood Heron wishes to the listener’s heart. So no more disco outfits, no more cocky stand-up humour, no more strutting up and down the stage. The new Heron is seated, reflective, his back slightly arched, his speech slightly slurred, his voice crackled. His vision cast back over his existence, but not his career, over his childhood years, his identity, his broken home, ruins of another black man’s life, as far as Robert Johnson, and an outrageously impertinent rendition of ‘Me and the Devil,’ to the core, the poetry that has always been the source of Heron’s work since his first book at the age of thirteen. And this is what we need to hear…..
At the heart on a level with backbone and grace, lies the voice, that river which never dies and will live on even in its dying. And we don’t even need to call them poems, we could call them spoken word, we could call them conversations with the soul. What they do is speak and relentlessly, hauntingly, as their seeming improvisations rise and fall, relying a great deal on rhythm and repetition, to carry them through, over their lulls, their emptiness, and send them into song. Lines reverberate. This memory is alive. African spirit. And still strange sounds clash and beat in the backgrounds. You can feel the smoke rising. Hands clap. Primitive hands. Collisions and clangings resonate. Sounds from after the apocalypse (hasn’t it already taken place in silence?). Sounds from a man who somehow escaped his own destiny, his own pain, to keep declaiming poetry, to keep believing in beauty because first of all he believed it in himself and his loved ones, his women. Poetry synonymous with love, from the absolute depths, from the marrow in his bones. Because you see:
they can strip the poet of everything, but the more you strip the poet of what he has, the stronger he becomes in what he is, and what he is, is a poet, a poet with a voice and this man has one hell of a voice and he might be weak, and he’s certainly old, but his poetry runs through these ruins with force and freedom, because talent can be attacked and imprisoned, freedom can be outlawed and people slandered, words can be altered, smothered or destroyed, but poetry from the marrow will keep raising its head and singing, as long as the poet can lift his arm to write or open his mouth to speak, because it is all from memory, the deepest memory, memory of mankind, memory of the world.
Gil Scott Heron is still there beside us to dry our weeping eye. And we feel like stretching out toward the old genius to console his own palpable sadness, like passing him a light for a cigarette from heaven, from where he belongs. Because in his words:
… I always feel like running not away because there’s no such place because if there was I would have found it by now because it’s easier to run easier than staying and finding out you’re the only one who didn’t run because running will be the way your life and mine will be described as in the long run or as in having given someone a run for his money or as in running out of time because running makes me look like everyone else though I hope there will never be cause for that because I will be running in the other direction not running for cover because if I knew where cover was I would stay there and never have to run for it not running for my life because I have to be running for something of more value to be running and not in fear because the thing I fear cannot be escaped eluded avoided hidden from protected from gotten away from not without showing the fear as I see it now….
If you understand that. If you follow the run, the myriad dodges and dives in his step, then you understand where he’s coming from…. I feel I do. I have listened to practically every song he’s thrown out here over the years and I’m glad he’s back and I’m glad he’s new here because it’s still palpably Winter in America and not just from the snow. There’s no point in speaking about our disappointment in the New World Order. There’s no point in speaking about old hopes and revolutions. There’s no point today in useless polemic. There are graver matters at hand. Like staying alive. Keeping these words alive. Spoken roots. For the moment this poetry is politics enough.
Dom Gabrielli (Poet and Writer)
Comment left by dominic · Monday February 22, 2010 · #
Sometimes I wonder, what type of life had I led, had i remained asleep with so many other sheep, doing my daily time, thinking my government is crime free blame free, and corruption free.
Gil, you woke me up before I was ready to be awake. I was listening to you as a child, crying tears of a man yet to be, and I thank you for that.
Your music has been a part of my soul since then, and I still find time to expose you to those that missed out the first time.
I used to recite word for word “The revolution will not be televised”.
When I saw the riots first hand, I knew it was not the revolution, because it was televised, showing our ugliness in multiple flavors, showing our greed/need, and anger all at once.
Man, I was there when the CIA crack bomb exploded, and killed a lot of my friends, turned my neighbors into slaves, the women I adored into strawberry whores, and my neighborhood to killing fields. I praise God that I survived it (so far)but I know the strength of the devil because I fought his grip with all my might, and only with help from the hand of God was I able to pull free.
Welcome back, my brother, persevere persevere, persevere!
Comment left by alstarx · Monday February 22, 2010 · #
As I was walking home the other night, enjoying and spiritually embracing the darkness and stars…and my solitude; I found myself thinking about a particular song (there are so very many to recall/relect/revel in) that you wrote called “Combinations”.
I found myself easily able to recall everything about that particular piece. I started singing it to myself humming/imatating the music…..adding the lyrics…..the tone (humble, appreciative, hopeful and trusting. Pausing/Thinking about what its meanings are when you read between the lines. I recalled that it has been and remains one of my all-time favorite by you, Gil.
For those of you who may not have been privy to this song….read on:
Combinations
“I’ve got a feeling, about combinations and how they work out so well. It only happens when people don’t dwell on…the time or the feeling.
And about combinations it’s true that…North and South attract.
Yes, but forever ain’t a fact….to consider like our combination.
And you can tear this moment down. And you can make me explain every little thing and every situation.
But life life turns itself around. And all the laughter and the pain…..simply….helps us to maintain…our combination.
And I know a sister, who says combinations are created in the stars. Something to do with my Venus and my Mars…being in line. To bring about combinations that will mix in my mind….until I’m never quite satisfied by…any but our combination.”
Thank you for coming back to us Gil. It’s been too long. Please stay with us. We need your input. ALLUSWE love you my brother!
Comment left by Rex Cooper · Monday February 22, 2010 · #
I’m impressed, I must say. Very often I found a blog that makes both educational and fun, I have more powerful website at Onan Generators or Propane generators
Comment left by Home Security · Friday March 4, 2011 · #
Respect and the love the man and the music and so cool style, I have more powerful website at Powermate generators or Coleman Generators and Portable Generators
Comment left by Powermate generator · Friday March 4, 2011 · #