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Home Is Where The Hatred Is
I knew Gil Scott-Heron's message would be lost amidst the masses' general confusion when, in the nineties, his epic statement "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" was restated (by KRS-One, of all people) in a Nike commercial. Perhaps the only positive from that travesty was Scott-Heron received a well-deserved royalty check.Something about my
last post really struck a chord with me, as did the comments from
Cody B,
deadmandeadman, and
Bartleby. Bartleby, in particular, summarized the thread perfectly when she wrote "It’s a shame that Black rock is still underrated by everyone including the Black community who for some reasons believe that you can’t express your true ethnicity if you play rock."Unfortunately, Americans (including many African-Americans) seem satisfied to limit sonic expressions of "urban ethnicity" to drum machines, puerile melodies and choruses, and female booty cheeks undulating in front of a video camera as a rapper pops the cork off a bottle of bubbly, white foam splashing against those aforementioned cheeks, simulating a reference to the male orgasm.All of it is quite rote, actually.This means that artists of color who play rock remain unrecognized from the broader white audience because, of course, "black folks don't (can't) play rock music." These same artists go unrecognized from audiences of color because rock is "white boy music."This, too, is quite rote, actually.But these circumscribed thoughts extend past black artists playing rock, and stretch to curse artists like Scott-Heron and his partner, Brian Jackson, neither of whom fit into stereotypical definitions of "soul" or "R&B."In keeping with the theme of "alternative" soul music I started with the Ohio Players' "What The Hell," I present the live version of Scott-Heron & Jackson's "Home Is Where The Hatred Is." Recorded live in Boston in 1976, this song, perhaps more than any other in the pair's sterling catalog, chronicles pain: the pain of the street, the pain of not fitting in, and the pain of feeling lost and unwelcome in your country of birth.It is a difficult song to listen to, and I find the track's extended break almost as affecting as Hendrix's "Star Spangled Banner." And of course, Scott-Heron's lyrics are sharp as a needle to the inner arm:
Home is where I live inside my white powder dreamsHome was once an empty vacuumBut it's filled now with my silent screamsHome is where the needle marksTried to heal my broken heartAnd it might not be such a bad ideaIf I never went home againP&L,Soultronica
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