Photos by Esther Babb

Anticipation of a Gil Scott Heron show contains the possibility, nowadays, that he may not turn up; a truism he makes light of when he appears, if a little late, in customary driving cap and shades, looking relaxed and genuinely pleased to take the stage at S.O.B.’s for his second set on Wednesday night.

“For those of you who thought I wouldn’t be here,” rags that gravelly voice, “you lose!”

He’s in good spirits and a diverse crowd is gratefully reminded why he commands such a loyal following. Though he recently turned 60, the years have taken their toll, and yet the mischievous twinkle in his eyes remains.

He opens with a monologue, a tribute to Stevie Wonder for his oft-overlooked role in the campaign to have Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday recognized as a national holiday in the United States, recalling a time when January 15th meant more than “mattress sale.” It’s a wayward salute to the British jazz musician and designer of the TONTO synthesizer, Malcolm Cecil, who is in the audience. Cecil’s creation inspired some of Wonder’s best-known hits, earning him production credits on Superstition and Talking Book. It’s also an opportunity to plug Scott-Heron’s forthcoming autobiography, The Last Holiday, not due for publication until January 2011.

We are finally reunited with his timeless sound when he plays the opening chords to Your Daddy Loves You. He will play without accompaniment for almost an hour, and it’s testimony to his unique presence, and voice, that a venue which can be a little soulless is lost in nostalgia under his spell.

Your Daddy Loves You was not, as some have mistakenly interpreted over the years, written from personal experience, but shaped by sympathy for a man who could do everything but tell his daughter he loved her. Similarly, we are told, Pieces of a Man referred not to any of his own well-documented struggles, but demonstrates rather his gift for storytelling. His performance is sprinkled with such anecdotes and reflections to savor.

On a muggy evening in New York City, Winter in America is reintroduced via Roy Ayers’ Everybody Loves The Sunshine, and followed by Three Miles Down off the album Secrets, and a recollection which tickles Scott-Heron that this song was once adopted by the Coal Miner’s Union as their theme tune.

Though originally a response to a near-disaster at a local nuclear power plant, the United Auto Workers Union might want to consider using We Almost Lost Detroit which sounds unfortunately relevant, though no allusion is drawn to the current state of affairs either during its rendition, or indeed throughout the evening. Scott-Heron is here to entertain and is joined by his current musical director Kim Jordan for Is That Jazz?, providing an opportunity to scat, and slur in that Chi-Town-East-Coast-Southern drawl.

The set closes with Home is Where the Hatred Is, before he disappears down a flight of stairs. To an appreciative crowd’s delight he’s back swiftly for an encore, re-imagining his opening line; “Anyone who bet I wouldn’t come back up the stairs, you lose!” Continuing blackly: “Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” He’s coasting when he loses himself in Better Days Ahead, and it’s impossible not to share in his hope, that “there are better days ahead for you and me.”