Feature: Gil Scott-Heron

This article is part of a series about historically iconic Black artists and creatives. This series was started with the intention of shedding light on the importance of Black artists in all aspects of the creative sphere, but, especially, to note that many of them spearheaded some of the most influential trends and art forms of our time with little recognition. Stay tuned for more additions as they are published!


By Maria Kornacki

Gil Scott-Heron was a Chicago-born poet and Jazz musician who had his prime during the ‘70s. Still today, he is not talked about as much as he should be, which may be why I only just discovered him recently. 

As someone who grew up in Michigan, I was intrigued to find out that Scott-Heron wrote a song called “We Almost Lost Detroit,” about the 1966 partial meltdown of a nuclear power plant in the area. I was also surprised that I hadn’t heard of him earlier since I studied Creative Writing in college, and he was another great American poet, pushing the envelope. Similarly, Scott-Heron also graduated with a master’s in Creative Writing from John Hopkins University in his time. With his degree considered, it’s no surprise that he would later excel at expressing his viewpoints in three different mediums: poetry, jazz, and rap (which all share common characteristics).

Talent and dedication ran in the Heron family. Gil Scott-Heron’s father, Gilbert Heron, was a Jamaica-born soccer player who joined Celtic FC–as the Glasgow team's first Black player–during Scott-Heron’s early life. Additionally, his mother, Bobbie Scott, was an opera singer. 

When Scott-Heron’s parents divorced, however, he moved to Lincoln, Tennessee to live with his grandmother, Lily Scott, a civil rights activist and musician whose influence on him was indelible. At that time, Scott-Heron’s grandma bought him his first piano and introduced him to the work of Harlem Renaissance novelist and jazz poet, Langston Hughes, who would greatly impact his style as a poet and musician. 

Gil Scott-Heron’s poetic approach to music-making was both fluid and concrete. His sensual, syllabic vocals and instrumentals provided listeners with a healing sense of pacifism, though it is worth noting that his clear-cut messages were piercingly prophetic. He was a soulful rebel, to say the least.

His discography is painted with relevant lyrics that rise to the surface time and time again, as history repeats itself. Several of his songs also carry heavier subject matter, such as drug addiction on “Home Is Where The Hatred Is,” and substance abuse on “The Bottle.” Nonetheless, he crafted and executed songs listeners could appreciate in all of their layers. 

Listen to The Revolution Will Not Be Televised on Spotify. Gil Scott-Heron · Song · 1971.

His confidence is undoubtedly heard on each record, too, especially in his ability to formulate visual stories out of minimal phrases. His emphasis on the meaning behind the music, rather than the sound, created a speech-like tone to each of his songs. For example, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” and “B Movie” are highly quotable bodies of work. Experimental and innovative spoken word techniques were used on tracks such as these to impact listeners throughout his entire career—he was most certainly a leader and not a follower. 

Scott-Heron’s visionary concepts also influenced artists of generations to come, specifically those in Hip-Hop and Rap categories. Several current chart-topping artists have sampled and covered Gil Scott-Heron’s music: for example, Drake, Rihanna, Kanye West, and Common have all dipped into the musical mastery of Scott-Heron’s mind. 

Perhaps, Gil Scott-Heron’s genius lies in the fact that he was grounded in reality. Both societal and political issues often took the front seat over surface-level topics or what sounds were deemed “hit-worthy.”  That said, his various works have been able to transcend time and become “hits” in their own right, due to their classic, monumentally powerful material.


Below, watch a video of Scott-Heron explaining the meaning of "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.”