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Ho una mia idea sul perché un artista del calibro di Gil Scott-Heron non incida più da un pezzo e, soprattutto, sia caduto in un "buco nero" dal quale non riesce a tirarsi fuori. Proprio lui che nel corso della sua esemplare carriera di scrittore, poeta, musicista, attivista politico ha cercato di tracciare una strada di orgoglioso riscatto, di consapevole ribellione per i "fratelli" nei confronti di una società, di ieri e di oggi, ipocrita, razzista e troppo ingiusta, proprio lui è rimasto invischiato nelle sue trappole, blandito da quei miraggi dai quali ha cercato di mettere in guardia i suoi coetanei e le più giovani generazioni.
Credo c'entri non poco la cocente delusione per la percepita fine dei suoi ideali. Deve essere difficile accettare che proprio coloro che lo indicano oggi come punto di riferimento, come un antesignano (effettivamente Gil faceva "rap" quando ancora nessuno lo chiamava così...), abbiano alzato bandiera bianca, fagocitati dal dio-dollaro e ammansiti dal conseguente sfrenato consumismo. "La mia generazione ha perso", dovrà aver pensato il nostro; e quelle venute dopo, abbagliate dagli ingannevoli luccichii di Mammona, sono divenute poco a poco funzionali al sistema che ingrossa i ghetti, le prigioni e i conti in banca di pochissime, osannate "Black Stars".
Chi non lo conoscesse, può farsi un'idea della sua poliedrica personalità leggendo il suo secondo e ultimo romanzo del '72, non ne ha scritti più, pubblicato in Italia solo nel 2001 dalla meritoria casa editrice Shake, "La fabbrica dei negri", sorta di fotografia con luci ed ombre del movimento universitario studentesco afro-americano dei seventies; oppure procurarsi il suo "The Best", che contiene anche il suo pezzo più famoso, una sorta di manifesto politico-musicale, "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised", scritto nel '71 a poco più di vent'anni: più che un protorap, un "flusso di coscienza" (...The revolution will not go better with Coke / The revolution will not fight the germs that cause bad breath / The revolution WILL put you in the driver's seat / The revolution will not be televised, WILL not be televised, WILL NOT BE TELEVISED / The revolution will be no re-run brothers / The revolution will be live).
Ma è di un suo album degli anni '80 che vorrei parlarvi, quello del mio primo incontro con lui, "Reflections". Esso è un impareggiabile mix di impegno, popular black music, consapevolezza politica, intelligente easy listining: body & soul, insomma. E se nei suoi lavori precedenti una sorta di jazz-fusion era "l'abito " indossato più spesso dai suoi densi e diretti "streams", nei setti brani di "Reflections" c'è molta più varietà e si declina la musica "black" in tutti i suoi "casi". Dal raggae di "Storm Music", omaggio al re di Kingstom che considerava un maestro di libertà, alla Soul d.o.c. di "Grandma's Hands", in cui pare un Bill Withers arrabbiato. Non manca neanche un strizzatina d'occhio ai ritmi latino-americani con "Gun", né il classico "tappeto" cool-jazz su cui appoggiare i suoi "pensieri mattutini". "Is The Jazz?" è un continuo succedersi di immagini (Bird, Billie, Miles, Prez. . . ) che rispondono in modo inequivocabile, ma anche originale (ci sono anche Stevie Wonder e Bob Marley) al quesito.
A sigillare questa concezione ecumenica del black sound, non poteva mancare la cover di "Inner City Blues", un'interpretazione molto personale, una prima parte più canonica che si innesta sul suo tipico spoken-word. Chiusura in bellezza con i 12 e passa minuti di "b-movie", ironica filippica su quel mediocre attore western divenuto pessimo presidente (noi oggi non siamo messi meglio: c'è un pessimo pianista da crociera al timone della nave...).
Peccato che Gil se la passi male: i suoi occhiali a specchio che indossa fiero sulla copertina dell'album, sarebbero più che mai utili per aiutarci a riflettere (con "reflections" in inglese s'intendono sia i riflessi, i rispecchiamenti che le riflessioni) sull'attuale desolante realtà.
Elenco tracce testi e video
02 Grandma's Hands (05:24)
Grandma's hands clapped to church on Sunday mornings
Grandma's hands played the tambourine so well
Grandma's hands used to issue out a warning
She say, "Scotty why you run so fast,
Might fall on a piece of glass,
Might be snakes there in that grass?"
Grandma's hands, they keep on calling to me.
Grandma's hands soothed the local unwed mothers
Grandma's hands used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands, lord they'd really come in handy
She say, "Bobbie why you want to whip that boy?
What you want to whip him for?
He didn't throw no apple core."
Grandma's hands, they keep on calling to me.
Grandma's hands soothed the local unwed mothers
Grandma's hands used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands, well they really came in handy
She say, "Bobbie why you want to whip that boy?
What you want to whip him for?
He didn't throw no apple core."
But I don't have grandma anymore
When I get to heaven I'll look for grandma's hands.
06 Gun (04:01)
Brother man nowadays livin' in the ghetto
Where the dangers sure enough real.
Well when he's out late at night,
and if he's got his head on right,
Well, I lay you 9 to 5 he's walking with steel.
Brother Man says he's 'fraid of gangsters
Messing with people just for fun
He don't want to be next.
He got a family to protect.
So just last week he bought himself a gun.
Everybody got a pistol, everybody got a .45
And the philosophy seem to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.
This is a violent civilization;
If civilization's where I am.
Every channel that I stop on
Got a different kind of cop on
Killing them by the million for Uncle Sam.
Saturday night just ain't that special.
Yeah, I got the constitution on the run.
'Cause even though we've got the right
To defend our home, to defend our life,
Got to understand to get it in hand about the guns.
Everybody's got a pistol. Everybody got a .45.
The philosophy seems to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up, I, I'll give up...
Saturday night just ain't that special.
Freedom to be afraid is all you want.
Yes if you don't want to be next.
You've got a family to protect.
9 out of 10, you've got a friend, you've got a gun.
Everybody got a pistol. Everybody got a .45.
And the philosophy seems to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.
Everybody got a pistol, this mosty be the NRA
Yeah 'cause when it's time to line up
You know damn well they're gonna shine up
Everybody...
And the philosophy seem to be
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.
07 B Movie (12:13)
Well, the first thing I want to say is: Mandate my ass!"
Because it seems as though we've been convinced that 26% of the registered voters, not even 26% of the American people, but 26% of the registered voters form a mandate or a landslide. 21% voted for Skippy and 3, 4% voted for somebody else who might have been running.
But, oh yeah, I remember. In this year that we have now declared the year from Shogun to Reagan, I remember what I said about Reagan, I meant it. Acted like an actor. Hollyweird. Acted like a liberal. Acted like General Franco when he acted like governor of California, then he acted like a Republican. Then he acted like somebody was going to vote for him for president. And now we act like 26% of the registered voters is actually a mandate. We're all actors in this I suppose.
What has happened is that in the last 20 years, America has changed from a producer to a consumer. And all consumers know that when the producer names the tune, the consumer has got to dance. That's the way it is. We used to be a producer - very inflexible at that, and now we are consumers and, finding it difficult to understand. Natural resources and minerals will change your world. The Arabs used to be in the 3rd World. They have bought the 2nd World and put a firm down payment on the 1st one. Controlling your resources we'll control your world. This country has been surprised by the way the world looks now. They don't know if they want to be Matt Dillon or Bob Dylan. They don't know if they want to be diplomats or continue the same policy - of nuclear nightmare diplomacy. John Foster Dulles ain't nothing but the name of an airport now.
The idea concerns the fact that this country wants nostalgia. They want to go back as far as they can - even if it's only as far as last week. Not to face now or tomorrow, but to face backwards. And yesterday was the day of our cinema heroes riding to the rescue at the last possible moment. The day of the man in the white hat or the man on the white horse - or the man who always came to save America at the last moment - someone always came to save America at the last moment - especially in "B" movies. And when America found itself having a hard time facing the future, they looked for people like John Wayne. But since John Wayne was no longer available, they settled for Ronald Reagan and it has placed us in a situation that we can only look at -like a "B" movie.
Come with us back to those inglorious days when heroes weren't zeros. Before fair was square. When the cavalry came straight away and all-American men were like Hemingway to the days of the wondrous "B" movie. The producer underwritten by all the millionaires necessary will be Casper "The Defensive" Weinberger - no more animated choice is available. The director will be Attila the Haig, running around frantically declaring himself in control and in charge. The ultimate realization of the inmates taking over at the asylum. The screenplay will be adapted from the book called "Voodoo Economics" by George "Papa Doc" Bush. Music by the "Village People" the very military "Macho Man."
"Company!!!"
"Macho, macho man!"
"Two-three-four."
"He likes to be - well, you get the point."
"Huuut! Your left! Your left! Your left, right, left, right, left, right !"
A theme song for saber-rallying and selling wars door-to-door. Remember, we're looking for the closest thing we can find to John Wayne. Clichés abound like kangaroos - courtesy of some spaced out Marlin Perkins, a Reagan contemporary. Clichés like, "itchy trigger finger" and "tall in the saddle" and "riding off or on into the sunset." Clichés like, "Get off of my planet by sundown!" More so than clichés like, "he died with his boots on." Marine tough the man is. Bogart tough the man is. Cagney tough the man is. Hollywood tough the man is. Cheap stick tough. And Bonzo's substantial. The ultimate in synthetic selling: A Madison Avenue masterpiece - a miracle - a cotton-candy politician Presto! Macho!
"Macho, macho man!"
Put your orders in America. And quick as Kodak your leaders duplicate with the accent being on the nukes - cause all of a sudden we have fallen prey to selective amnesia - remembering what we want to remember and forgetting what we choose to forget. All of a sudden, the man who called for a blood bath on our college campuses is supposed to be Dudley "God-damn" Do-Right?
"You go give them liberals hell Ronnie." That was the mandate. To the new "Captain Bly" on the new ship of fools. It was doubtlessly based on his chameleon performance of the past - as a liberal democrat - as the head of the Studio Actor's Guild. When other celluloid saviors were cringing in terror from McCarthy - Ron stood tall. It goes all the way back from Hollywood to hillbilly. From liberal to libelous, from "Bonzo" to Birch idol, born again. Civil rights, women's rights, gay rights it's all wrong. Call in the cavalry to disrupt this perception of freedom gone wild. God damn it, first one wants freedom, then the whole damn world wants freedom.
Nostalgia, that's what we want The good ol' days when we gave'em hell? When the buck stopped somewhere and you could still buy something with it. To a time when movies were in black and white - and so was everything else. Even if we go back to the campaign trail, before six-gun Ron shot off his face and developed hoof-in-mouth. Before the free press went down before full-court press. And were reluctant to review the menu because they knew the only thing available was - Crow.
Lon Chaney, our man of a thousand faces - no match for Ron. Doug Henning does the make-up - special effects from Grecian Formula 16 and Crazy Glue. Transportation furnished by the David Rockefeller of Remote Control Company. Their slogan is, "Why wait for 1984? You can panic now...and avoid the rush."
So much for the good news
As Wall Street goes, so goes the nation. And here's a look at the closing numbers - racism's up, human rights are down, peace is shaky, war items are hot - the House claims all ties. Jobs are down, money is scarce - and common sense is at an all-time low on heavy trading. Movies were looking better than ever and now no one is looking because, we're starring in a "B" movie. And we would rather had John Wayne. We would rather had John Wayne.
"You don't need to be in no hurry.
You ain't never really got to worry.
And you don't need to check on how you feel.
Just keep repeating that none of this is real.
And if you're sensing, that something's wrong,
Well just remember, that it won't be too long
Before the director cuts the scene. yea."
"This ain't really your life,
Ain't really your life,
Ain't really ain't nothing but a movie."
[Refrain repeated approximately 20 times]
"This ain't really your life,
Ain't really your life,
Ain't really ain't nothing but a movie."
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