What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
-Langston Hughes, 1951
When I heard that Gil Scott-Heron was releasing his first album of new material in 16 years, I got excited. Through the fusion of spoken word and jazz with politically-conscious messages, he essentially created the genre that we now know as hip-hop. Known mainly for his baritone manifestos such as “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” and “Winter in America,” his work was part of the canon of the Black Arts Movement in the late 60s/early 70s alongside of Amiri Baraka, Gwendolyn Brooks, and Lorraine Hansberry. Scott-Heron has released only two albums in the past 25 years (including this)—his absence from the music industry stemming from his problems with drug addiction and various prison sentences. On I'm New Here, he teams up XL Recordings head Richard Russell (who met with Scott-Heron while serving time in Riker’s Island prison) in a late-career renaissance attempt similar to Rick Rubin’s work with Johnny Cash.
Coming in at a meager 29 minutes, I have to say I’m quite disappointed with this album. During a tumultuous and at times promising decade for the African-American community—with events such as Hurricane Katrina, the ever-increasing achievement gap between white and black children, the election of the first black president, and rampant unemployment from the recession nearly twice that of whites—Scott-Heron’s absence has been greatly felt. The only fit person to stand in for Scott-Heron would have to be himself, and even he comes up short on I’m New Here.
The most disheartening thing about Scott-Heron’s latest release is how poorly timed it is, given the numerous subjects previously mentioned that he could have chosen to focus on. This time around he decided to release quite possibly his most personal record to date. Everything about the album screams personal reflection simply through the use of the pronouns “me,” “I’m,” “I’ll,” and “I” in the titles and subjects of songs. Gone is the sense of community or need for revolution—gone too is the sense of power that Scott-Heron commanded on his 70s albums. He begins and ends the album with a spoken world piece about growing up in a broken home and being raised by his grandma, taking us deeper and deeper into his tortured psyche only to conclude unresolved.
The production by Russell works at times and at others seems alien and unnecessary. He samples a piece from Kanye West’s “Flashing Lights” as the backing track to “On Coming from a Broken Home Parts 1 & 2” and opts for sobering electronic ambiance instead of Scott-Heron’s usual utilization of street-wise jazz and R&B. Russell’s insistence of adding electronic beats and samples certainly won’t earn Scott-Heron any new fans. To put it bluntly, I’m New Here feels out of place to a newer generation of listeners. He's new here, indeed.
The best moment on the album is by-far “New York is Killing Me,” in which hand claps and acoustic guitar mesh with electronic beats as Scott-Heron reflects on his various prison stays and his longing to return home to Jackson, Tennessee. Never has he been more personal or fragile than on this track. The track is steeped in the gloom and isolation of his drug problems, as he proclaims “they got 8 million people and I didn’t have a single friend.” It is this track which leads me to believe that he still has potential to make powerful music.
The remainder of the album is a real downer, not only in tone, but in the actual artistic output. A once mighty baritone voice is replaced with a slurring bourbon-soaked drawl. He often sounds like he’s on his last limb and that his brain is too jumbled to make a coherent statement. At 15 songs that clock in under 30 minutes, Russell adds unnecessary studio bits of Scott-Heron’s ramblings to fill up space. If Scott-Heron had had a better producer, I feel that this would have been a much more worthwhile listen.
While I’m New Here is far from his best work, there are still occurrences of his true wit and brilliance—signs that he may not be finished yet. It is a great disappointment that he released so personal a record at a time when the black community and the world at large need a powerful voice like Scott-Heron’s. As listeners, we are left with a paraphrased question posed by Langston Hughes almost 60 years ago: what happens to an artist deferred? Does he dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or does he explode? Given the genius that Scott-Heron is still capable of, I sincerely hope for the latter.
Overall: 68/100
Best Moments:
“New York is Killing Me”
“Me and the Devil”
“I’ll Take Care of You”
And Whitey is on the Moon.
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