Amid Charles Stewart's lengthy sleeve notes it is easy to miss this declaration by the artist himself: “I am a black man dedicated to expression; expression of the joy and pride of Blackness. I consider myself neither poet, composer, nor musician. These are tools used by sensitive men to carve out a piece of beauty or truth that they hope may lead to peace and salvation.” As much as he may have rejected the aforesaid definition Scott-Heron was indeed all of the above, though he would prove himself to be a songwriter of the highest order in years to come. This storming debut is about the power of the word delivered with a ferocity and conviction that would make most of today's rappers recoil in fear before they dared to ‘spit’ anything on bling and booty. The urgency of ‘Brother’, ‘Whitey On The Moon’, ‘Paint It Black’ and ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’ has not dimmed over time, and with the sharp crackle of congas providing a sparse but potent backdrop the words drop like bombs on the heads of tyrants.