Gil Scott-Heron @ HMV Picture House, 26 April

"I did not disappear…wish I knew how." And so poet, novelist and self-proclaimed 'Bluesologist' Gil Scott-Heron shrugs off troubled times and goads his naysayers by embarking on a two hour set which splices story with song, but not one word On Coming From a Broken Home.

Without a trace of the recent I’m New Here, the Chicagoan foregoes the sparsity, grit and bittersweet truths of his acclaimed latter-day output to dive headlong into the more celebratory side of his canon - peppering the set with introspective anecdotes and musing over his misrepresentation in the press.

When Scott-Heron and his three piece band arrive at the music, the sprawling Winter in America earns the biggest cheer (besides his entrance) while a unique take on the origins of jazz (Is That Jazz?) clinches the heartiest of many laughs.

“Ask me if I play football, and the answer is I play piano,” he offers, referring to his Celtic legend father. Pulling up his flat cap and pursing his lips at the mic for an encore, it’s a 1974 highpoint – The Bottle – which holds the most poignancy, a self-fulfilling prophecy that ghosts his own notoriety.

“Be safe, be free, be strong,” he rasps in parting, his voice ravaged from years of abuse yet still compelling the crowd toward a rare spiritual experience. The gravitas bounces off the walls, but the neglect of precious new material leaves the night feeling a little like a squandered opportunity. [Dave Kerr]