Incarnation

=--=Publié dans la Catégorie "Music..."=--=

Gil Scott Heron, poète urbain et précurseur fondamental du Rap (lorsque celui-ci avait encore une conscience sociale), est mort hier à 62 ans.

The Television 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 Spiro Agnew 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 Theater 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
Because the revolution will not be televised, Brother

There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
Pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run
Or trying to slide that color TV into a stolen ambulance
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
Or report from 29 districts
The revolution will not be televised

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
Brothers on the instant replay
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
Brothers on 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 proper occasion

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies and Hooter ville Junction
Will no longer be so damned relevant
And women will not care if Dick finally gets down with 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
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom Jones
Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink or the Rare Earth
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
The 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

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La version de Gil Scott Heron du thème emblématique que popularisa Robert Johnson dans sa chanson à lui... ici dans un tout autre climat... mais tout aussi sombre.

Me & the Devil

Early this morning
when you knocked
upon my door (2x)
An I say
Hello Satan
I believe its time to go
Me and the Devil
Walking side by side (2x)
And I'm gonna see my woman
'til I get satisfied
See See
You don't see why
Like you'a dog me 'round
*Now babe you know I ain't do it like that
Say I
Don't see why
people dawging me around
It must be that old old evil spirit
that spirit drop me down in your ground
you may
bury my body
down by the highway side
*I don't really care where you bury me when I'm gone
I'm gone
you may bury my body
down by the highway side
So my old evil spirit
can greyhound
bus that ride

--Bonus part

Standing
in the ruins of another black mans life
Or flying through the valley
separating day and night
I am am Death,
Cried the Vulture,
for the people of the light
Caron brought his raft
from the sea that sails on souls
and I saw the scavenger departing
taking warm hearts to the cold
he knew the ghetto was a haven
for the meanest creature ever known
in a wilderness of heart break
in a desert of despair
Evil's clarion of justice
shrieks a cry of naked terror
taking babies from their mamas
leaving grief beyond compare
so if you see the vulture coming
flying circles in your mind
remember their is no escaping
for he will follow close behind

only promise me a battle
a battle
for your soul and mind
and mine
and mine