Not many people can be called a revolutionary, unless you live in Cuba or your last name is Guevara. Gil Scott-Heron can lay claim to the term. But he is a frustrating man to ponder as he has long been his own worst enemy.  

When writing about him and his career, one uses the past tense, 'he was… he used to be...' but grudgingly, and with no joy. He is still alive, recently released from another stint in prison for charges relating to cocaine possession.

On Wednesday, July 2, he'll be at Toad's Place and it's far from clear what kind of performance it will be. He is reported to be a shadow of his former self, ravaged by need and dependency. But when the man was in his prime, no one could touch him.

He perfectly captured the zeitgeist of the 1970s and early 1980s in protest poems and political screeds masquerading as songs. He is probably best known for The Revolution Will Not Be Televised and the darkly humorous send-up Whitey on the Moon.

Early hard rap groups like NWA and Public Enemy were certainly influenced by his political consciousness. He was smart, sarcastic, angry, street and ambitious, skewering the powerful, and exhorting blacks toward dignified outrage and personal responsibility.

As a man with a gift for using language as a weapon, he thought rappers who spouted four-letter words were lazy. And he was dismayed that gun-toting thugs were playing right into the hands of the powerful, who couldn't care less about black people killing one another in ghettoes.

All the while, within this lion of a man was a very dark impulse toward self-destruction. He's struggled with cocaine his entire adult life, and in true addict denial mode, claims it isn't addictive.

People kick drugs everyday and move on to build healthy, hopeful lives. Scott-Heron is 59 years old so if he can get things together, there is still time for him to have a new career. He is lucky that venues such as Toad's are still willing to hire him. It should be an interesting evening; we can hope for the best.