Today’s Music to Blow My Mind!! – Gil Scott-Heron – The Revolution will not be Televised!

The revolution never came. The establishment merely established itself into a deeply entrenched global enterprise.

Music to keep me Sane in Isolation! – Gil Scott-Heron

Gil was a writer and musician. He wrote novels and lyrical poems.

He created a jazz-fusion rap that put his poetry to music – often with an African beat.

He was unique.

The first track of his that I heard was B Movie – a fabulous diatribe against Reagan. It got me into the rest of his work – The Revolution Will Not Be televised, Whitey On the Moon and Inner City Blues all hit the mark.

Gil wrote about the plight of the black ghettos in a way that nobody had. This was poetic social commentary with biting satire and beauty.

Love the man!

So today I will being play Gil loud and proud!

Whitey’s on the Moon – Gil Scott Heron

Gil was a genius. He put his poetry to music and was a precursor of rap. He articulated the thoughts of black America.

This poem opens up discussion about the huge gaping inequalities that exist. It poses many questions:

Should we be spending trillions on projects such as this, landing on the moon, while so many billions live in abject poverty?

How can a country as rich as America have so many people living in squalor?

Is this situation just plain racism?

The poem highlights it for me.

“Whitey On The Moon”

A rat done bit my sister Nell
With Whitey on the moon
Her face and arms began to swell
And Whitey’s on the moon

I can’t pay no doctor bills
But Whitey’s on the moon
Ten years from now I’ll be paying still
While Whitey’s on the moon

You know, the man just upped my rent last night
Cause Whitey’s on the moon
No hot water, no toilets, no lights
But Whitey’s on the moon

I wonder why he’s uppin’ me?
Cause Whitey’s on the moon?
Well i was already given him fifty a week
And now Whitey’s on the moon

Taxes takin’ my whole damn check
The junkies make me a nervous wreck
The price of food is goin up
And if all that crap wasn’t enough
A rat done bit my sister nell
With Whitey on the moon

Her face and arms began to swell
And Whitey’s on the moon

With all that money i made last year
For Whitey on the moon
How come I ain’t got no money here?
Hmm, Whitey’s on the moon

You know I just about had my fill
Of Whitey on the moon
I think I’ll send these doctor bills
airmail special
(To Whitey on the moon)

Gil Scott-Heron – There Ain’t No Such Thing As Superman

A very apt message for all Trump supporters who are expecting miracles!

Gil SCOTT-HERON – Ain’t No Such Thing As Superman Lyrics

You have understood
The riddles of the ages

Yes and you have understood
The universal nine

You have placed your footprints on
The everlasting sands of time

Yes so tell me why
Can’t you understand that there ain’t no such thing as a superman?
There ain’t no such thing as a superman

You was on the Nile
You went to see great Egypt fall
It fell down to the ground

Yes, and you was out there on the corner
When being cool went blind
Oh, you alone understand that if we gonna win
We’ve got to get together, stay together, be together, stick together

So tell me why, can’t you understand
That there ain’t no such thing as a superman
There ain’t no such thing as a superman

You alone consider mercy after it seems like all you get is pain
It seem to me that you have found the courage that others could not find
You alone have the wisdom to take this world and make it what it need to be, want to be, will be, someday you’ll see
The day, the day you understand
That there ain’t no such thing as a superman
There ain’t no such thing as a superman

Gil Scott-Heron – Whitey On The Moon

Is it right to be spending huge sums of money on various projects while there is still so much racism, prejudice, drugs, poverty and deprivation?

It doesn’t have to be this way. We can solve the problems if we want.

It starts with education, housing and jobs.

This is Gil pointing out that Blacks get the bad end of the stick!

“Whitey On The Moon”

A rat done bit my sister Nell
With Whitey on the moon
Her face and arms began to swell
And Whitey’s on the moonI can’t pay no doctor bills
But Whitey’s on the moon
Ten years from now I’ll be paying still
While Whitey’s on the moon

You know, the man just upped my rent last night
Cause Whitey’s on the moon
No hot water, no toilets, no lights
But Whitey’s on the moon

I wonder why he’s uppin’ me?
Cause Whitey’s on the moon?
Well i was already given him fifty a week
And now Whitey’s on the moon

Taxes takin’ my whole damn check
The junkies make me a nervous wreck
The price of food is goin up
And if all that crap wasn’t enough
A rat done bit my sister nell
With Whitey on the moon

Her face and arms began to swell
And Whitey’s on the moon

With all that money i made last year
For Whitey on the moon
How come I ain’t got no money here?
Hmm, Whitey’s on the moon

You know I just about had my fill
Of Whitey on the moon
I think I’ll send these doctor bills
airmail special
(To Whitey on the moon)

https://www.google.co.uk/?gws_rd=ssl#q=gil+scott+heron+youtube+whitey+on+the+moon

Gil Scott-Heron – The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

That says it all really. If things get too bad I predict trouble!

Gil was a poet, musician, singer, political activist, rapper, social commentator, black activist and special human being. Unfortunately he was also a junkie and is now dead.

“The Revolution Will Not Be Televised”

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and
skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Mendel Rivers to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
on reports from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the right occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so god damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally screwed
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o’clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb or
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash or Englebert Humperdink.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back
after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may 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, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.

Gil Scott-Heron – B-Movie – the ultimate in political satire.

A superb ‘song’ from the Reagan era which captured the essence of those times.

Nothing changes! Trump gets in on a minority vote and suddenly has a mandate to dismantle the whole country and mess the world.

America looks for hope and puts their faith in psychopaths! The minorities, the poor and powerless get done over once more as the right-wing capitalist machine churns up the planet for profit.

It’s OK – it’s just a B-Movie!!

Play the You Tube and read the words as it goes along. It will make you laugh with real tears!

“B Movie”

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 steak 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 dupes – 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 Bligh 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.”

A Gil Scott-Heron Day – the ultimate in poetic protest

Gil is wonderful. I miss him greatly. He put rebellion into words and created a whole new genre of poetry to Jazz that laid the roots for political Rap.

Gil was a master.

He tore politics to bits and in this age of Trump I’m sure he would have been right out there tearing into him and putting the black case, highlighting injustices and hypocrisy.

A sad loss. But we can read his words and listen to his music – and then go and build a better world based on justice, equality and an end to racism, sexism and misogyny!

This is a Gil Scott-Heron day!!  Enjoy!!