 Gil Scott-Heron & Terry Callier @ Metro, Chicago, USA I wonder what Gil Scott-Heron makes of his sudden resurgence,
'cause he's really been doing the same thing the whole time. Laying down
the message and never denying the groove. His career has had some peaks
and plateaus, but really he seems always to be doing his missionary work
with no particular acknowledgement of musical or cultural trends. He's
enjoyed about the same level of popularity in the black community ever
since he hit the scene as a black arts poet and kicked the bullshit back
at mainstream USA with cuts like "Whitey on the Moon" and "The Revolution
will Not Be Televised." Whitey himself, however, has only turned Gil's
way intermittently over the years, usually in the form of pretentious
college kids like myself. To throw in my necessary "I was there first,"
I must say that when I got into Gil Scott-Heron (this was back in '90)
there was no pop culture hipness attached to him, and no critical
assessment available. What a difference a decade makes … nowadays the
majority of his back catalog can be found on CD, and all sorts of Whitey
magazines are falling all over themselves to throw up props to Gil for
"influencing rap" and whatnot. Of course, I'm not the only Whitey to
"discover" Gil Scott-Heron "first," and plenty of us turned out to see
the man in action at Chicago's Metro for a booty-shakin' extravaganza of
funk-ass funk-assin'.
Terry Callier opened up with a tight band featuring Callier on
guitar and vox, augmented by percussion, electric guitar, bass, and
sax/flute. I'd heard much about Callier's supposedly great music and had
been bombarded with much hype about this "Chicago favorite" returning to
the scene. And I must say, he rocked my sweaty ass all the way back to
like 1968. I was most impressed and will certainly seek out his albums,
though not the new one 'cuz I've heard it's pretty lousy. And man, I
believe everything I hear … NOT! (Points added for hopelessly uncool
reference, but detracted for lazy approach to "humor.") Perfect opening
act, left the crowd wanting more … not something you find in a support
act very often. Funky blend of folk and jazz a la Richie Havens and
Marvin Gaye having a kid, but minus the unpleasant image of Richie Havens
and Marvin Gaye having sex, to say nothing of the image of a pregnant
Richie Havens.
Gil's bass player came out next and did a couple minutes solo,
riffing on "Papa Was a Rolling Stone" and a few other tunes. The tone
was set … there would be none of the politicizin' "Re-Ron" Gil tonite.
They was gonna make us dance. Gil's band then came out (The Amnesia
Express), including Brian Jackson on keys, plus bass, guitar, two
percussionists, and Gil himself on Fender Rhodes. Memory puts a flute
player up there, but I was on so much recreational anti-diarrheal (RAD)
who really knows? All I remember is they funked my shakable hullaballoo
with all their might. Much soloing and song lengths that ran upwards of
27 minutes, all of it essential, not a minute wasted. They played
virtually nothing I recognized (and I consider myself a fan), but I do
remember "The Bottle" at least. Gil was in fine form, bounding up and
down and laying down the law. The guitarist in particular rocked my
sweaty ass (and I hate guitarists), playing a right-handed guitar
left-handed a la Freddie King. Smokin'. The big treat was watching
Brian Jackson, clad in Polo shirt and looking uncannily like Bobby
McFerrin. After a glitch which rendered his synth soundless for the
first few minutes (blame the Whitey sound guy who probably wouldn't have
fucked up a Screaming Trees show), he was in full effect for the whole
show. And it was his birthday, too bad I didn't bring a cake. My mom
makes this great two-tiered birthday cake with vanilla frosting and a
perfect image of Gil's 1980 album on the top tier. I don't know how she
does it (or why) but it'd have been perfect.
They played for over two hours without pause, I almost thought
they (or I) would drop dead of multiple heart attacks. Fuckin' great
show. Too bad the masses will never really "get" Gil Scott-Heron,
'cause he's health food for the mind and the ass. The only way I can
think of to bring him to superstar status would be a weekly variety show
in which Gil would perform his songs and appear in comical sketches like
in "Hee Haw." I can already see the headline in Variety: "REVOLUTION TO
BE TELEVISED."
Review by Adrienne Doublestack |