That title is a lie; soul singer/spoken word poet Scott-Heron’s been around since the early 70s. And in the forty years since then, Gil Scott-Heron hasn’t lost an iota of his ability to convey, using only the spoken word, exactly what the man himself is feeling in powerfully emotional and vivid mental images.
If anything, time is on Scott-Heron’s side. It’s made the singer/poet’s voice more gravelly and more evocative than ever, his baritone growl now reflecting the world-weariness expressed by his poetry.
It’s no surprise, then, that I’m New Here, which was begun in 2007 when XL Recordings label owner Richard Russell sought out Scott-Heron to make his first studio LP in 14 years, is a strikingly genuine, emotional record. His solemn reminiscences on family, fearlessness and facing the past are accompanied perfectly here by Russell’s sparse, rhythm-centric production. His gentle, meticulous touch ensures the spotlight always rests wholly on Scott-Heron: a solitary, plucked guitar is all that accompanies him on the title track, while “New York is Killing Me” has nearly no instrumental backdrop besides a snare, a cymbal, and a pair of human hands.
“On Coming From A Broken Home (Part 1),” which samples the surprisingly sombre beginning to Kanye West’s “Flashing Lights,” sets the mood perfectly for I’m New Here, with Scott-Heron acknowledging the lasting effect that his grandmother had on his existence. On subsequent spoken interludes, (woven skillfully by Russell throughout the album,) he takes the time to thank his family for their substantial supporting role in his life and comes to terms with his own limitations. On “Being Blessed,”, he even playfully acknowledges his mortality: “If you gotta pay for things you’ve done wrong, I’ve got a big bill coming at the end of the day,” he claims through an audible smile.
But it’s the stark contrast between Russell’s minimalist compositions and Scott-Heron’s lyrics that make I’m New Here such a thoroughly engaging album. While lyrically, Scott-Heron is boldly trying to assert himself as a man who’s both acknowledged his past transgressions and admitted that he’s relied on the strength of others along the way, he’s sonically isolated, stranded in a sparse and desolate record, facing his own inescapable end. It’s an existential dilemma suggested solely by the compelling tension of words against the accompanying music, an effect not often carried out on record in such a successful and absorbing way.
But I’m New Here is more than just a tense, minimalist ode to existentialism. It’s an album of overwhelming musical and lyrical quality and a statement of continued relevance from an artist that, had the revolution been televised, might have gotten the wide acclaim he so justifiably deserves.
