Gil Scott-Heron's first three albums for
Bob Thiele's Flying Dutchman label have been reissued many times over by a variety of different labels and distributors. While
Small Talk at 125th and Lenox and
Pieces of a Man have been universally celebrated for their musical, poetic, and militant vision,
Free Will, the final date for the label, has been the subject of much debate over the decades. On the original LP, one side featured songs and the other spoken word. While Brian Jackson had been Gil's musical partner since before
Pieces of a Man was recorded, he was never given his proper due as a co-composer and collaborator.
Free Will reveals that collaboration and balance in full. Before recording, Jackson wanted more music, Gil wanted more spoken word; they got both and the album is all the better for it. It is the contrast and juxtaposition on that recording that provided the impetus for the
Dean Rudland-compiled
The Revolution Begins: The Flying Dutchman Masters. Disc one features all of the Scott-Heron and Jackson songs recorded for the label, regardless of which album they appeared on. From "Lady Day and John Coltrane," "Home Is Where the Hatred Is" (which, it turns out, Scott-Heron may have been singing into a mirror all along, and by home, he wasn't referring to his family, but America itself), and the second version of "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" with musical backing, to "Pieces of a Man," "Who'll Pay the Reparations On My Soul," and more, all play out in an intense, soulful, funky, beautifully remastered, hour-long set. Disc two contains all of the spoken word material, which includes virtually all of
Small Talk at 125th and Lenox, the second half of
Free Will, and other pieces, including the liberal-baiting "The Subject Was Faggots" and "Wiggy." The lone deviation is "Artificialness," on which Scott-Heron fronts
Pretty Purdie & His Playboys on a spoken word blues shuffle. The final disc contains an alternately assembled version of
Free Will. While shoddy and edited versions of some of its tracks appeared on an earlier RCA compilation, these are the full alternate takes, carefully remixed from original multi-track session tapes, with particular attention paid to the source material. As such, an entirely different
Free Will is on display with a real feel for session flow, despite the separation of music and poetry on it; it's not better or worse, but very different. It is a treasure trove of kinetic studio energy with an abundance of free-flowing ideas in process.
The Revolution Begins does present a problem, however. By jumbling recordings into what, in essence, is a pair of anthologies,
Small Talk and
Pieces of a Man are dislocated from their original contexts, which creates an unnecessary separation between music and poetry that were initially regarded as a multi-dimensional and holistic force. Though that shift in history and intent is present, it's far from a deal breaker, because
all of the material on
The Revolution Begins is unassailable.
