Do us a favor and pick up a copy of the August 9th issue of The New Yorker. It features a deeply haunting piece on fallen jazz great Gil Scott-Heron that we think you need to check out. I didn’t know much about the man beyond his era-defining ‘revolution will not be televised’ refrain, and the ‘grandfather of hip hop’ moniker thrust upon him (against his wishes) by a younger generation of urban musicians with whom he has collaborated sporadically over the years. The New Yorker’s Alec Wilkinson helped change that with a compassionate look at the man and his career, especially the hastening spiral of crack addiction that has kept the 61 year old locked up for much of the last decade (either behind doors with a butane torch or behind bars upstate).
New York is quite literally, killing the man.
Do Wrong: Doing Right By Us
We’re not sure what Freddie Gibbs is doing in Manhattan exactly, or even if he knows his way around (whatcha doin’ out over the FDR, Freddie!?) All we know is this one left our heads shaking, “mmm, mmm, mmm…now that is a late Summer cut to get your head back on straight!”
The Gary, Indiana native turned LA transplant has been the darling of music critics for most of 2010. We couldn’t say we fully agreed…until now. Do your thang Freddie, do your thang.
Continue reading “Do Wrong: Doing Right By Us…”