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 There's More To Reggae Than Meets The Irie. By Mari Wadsworth REGGAE'S EARNED THE paradoxical status of being one of the best-loved and most under-appreciated styles on the pop music spectrum. The fact of the matter is, there's a lot of crap out there passing, to an American audience that doesn't know any better, as authentic reggae. The situation is complicated by bands like UB40 and the flash-in-the-pan White Mountain, which infiltrated the genre by slapping some glossy pop song against a calypso beat and calling it reggae.
Bob Marley must be spinning in his grave. What arrives on American shores today is too often a far cry from that sweet Jamaican music spawned in the '50s by combining American soul and R&B, exported from scratchy Miami radio stations, with traditional calypso-based rhythms. Reggae evolved from precursors like ska, blue-beat and rock-steady, which are all basically the same kind of music played at different tempos, with emphases on different instruments and elements. A bass-heavy pulse and rhythmic drumming are the signature elements of roots-reggae. It wasn't until the late '60s and early '70s that reggae came into its own, eclipsing the '50s ska. Traditional Rastafarian music, which consisted of only drums and vocals, predates ska by a few years. (But not many: Rastafarianism is a young religion, which came into being in the post-WWII years.) Seemingly, the Rasta tradition was forever married to reggae when Bob Marley converted to the Rastafarian religion early in his career, in the mid-'70s. (He'd converted by the time their first American album came out.) But it's a misunderstood marriage: Not all reggae is Rastafarian, as evidenced by superstars like flashy Jimmy Cliff and Oneness, or Toots and the Maytals. An amazing show at the Chicago Bar in the summer of 1989 introduced a new dimension of reggae to this writer: I never imagined the sharkskin-suited Cliff and his fabulous horn section belonged to same "One Love" tradition I wrongly assumed all reggae aspired to. Three of the most prominent off-shoots of reggae, each musically and instrumentally diverse, include: dance-hall, the vocal/instrumental blend that's left an indelible mark on American rap; dub, which at its best approximates the sophistication of American jazz; and the traditional bass-drum heartbeat of roots-reggae, the vocal side of which has evolved from the soul traditions of groups like the Persuasions and the Impressions into bold anthems for social and political change that are uniquely Jamaican. Sadly, in a way, the mainstream introduction to reggae is more likely to have come from Eric Clapton and the Rolling Stones than the man himself: Clapton made a hit out of Marley's "I Shot the Sheriff," as did the Stones for "Cherry, Oh Baby," a classic reggae tune. And for the younger generation, dub-reggae has had a huge influence on bands like the Beastie Boys, The Chemical Brothers and Brian Eno. They may not sound like it on the surface, but all have given the nod to the reggae tradition: Rap, for example, is really just a distortion of "toasting"--taking a musical track and singing over it in some kind of patois--which ska bands were doing back in the '60s, at least. The recent merging of reggae with gangsta rap by the likes of Sno, Shabba Ranks and Shaggy is another sign of the times. But on the retail front, Bob Marley remains the first and only performer to successfully cross over into the mainstream with authentic roots reggae. Though immensely talented and charismatic, his success may be as much an accident of history as anything. Jamaica in the '60s was a popular hangout for American and British musicians, among them the Stones and The Beatles' George Harrison. British pop artists were the ones who broke the first ground in bringing us Jamaican music. Just like our own blues musicians, the Jamaicans themselves came later, both in the recording studio and on the touring circuit. And once we were listening, Marley was just the charismatic spokesman our media-savvy society loved to watch; he understood his role in the limelight, was savvy enough to understand the bigger picture without diminishing his integrity. He's received both flak and admiration for being the first superstar of a musical style--his break-up with the original Wailers, Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer, was particularly bitter. Both are great singers who went on to contribute much to the genre. Though Tosh suffered the fate of all too many Jamaican musicians--he was brutally murdered by robbers in his home country--Wailer, thankfully, continues to dodge the bullets, both in the streets and on the shelves. In fact, he just won a Grammy for his Hall of Fame tribute to Marley, celebrating the dead legend's 50th birthday. Finally, it simply cannot go without saying that a huge obstacle to Jamaican reggae's survival is the ghastly rate at which musicians both young and old are murdered. The fact that the beloved Marley died of cancer is equal parts tragic and ironic: He was machine-gunned at a musical rally for peace, organized to bring candidate Michael Manley and his opponent together during Jamaica's violent election season in the late '70s. As we celebrate the spirit of Bob Marley, let us also remember those like Tosh, genius producer King Tubby, Wailers drummer Carlton Barrett, vocalist Hugh Mundell, and Prince Far I; and the ongoing death toll of young up-and-comers we never even had the chance to hear. The American equivalent would be like hearing every week that members of bands like Smashing Pumpkins, The Presidents of the United States of America, R.E.M., the Beastie Boys, and Dr. Dre had been shot in cold blood. And the list would get longer every week...for years on end. So that's the state of things as we head into this weekend's festive celebration. That's why there's all the emphasis on peace, love and understanding. And turn a critical eye to these packaged tours, which show the shift away from promoting albums toward promoting a smattering of one-hit bands. It's a marketplace, so let them know what you want by knowing what's out there. If you call yourself a fan, scratch below the surface and find out what it's really about. If you like the sweeter vocal stuff, delve into those classic recordings by artists like Tosh, Cliff, the Maytals and all the related Wailers stuff. If the instrumental, trippy aspects appeal, journey down the road to dub...and if you like the Budweiser ad, you're probably like the guy we heard about who returned a Marley disc to a local record store, wrinkling his nose and saying, "What's all that talk about Ethiopia and shit?...That's not good Marley." Our unsolicited advice: Cut off the dreads, peel off the bumper sticker, and just stop listening to reggae entirely.
The KXCI-sponsored Fourth Annual Bob Marley Festival heads
into its first-ever, two-day format from noon to 10 p.m. Saturday,
and noon to 8 p.m. Sunday, April 26 and 27, at Kennedy Park, 3700
S. La Cholla Blvd. Admission is free, with monetary and non-perishable
food donations encouraged for the Community Food Bank. Featured
performers include local bands Neon Prophet and One
Blood, and Phoenix acts The Rasta Farmers and Grant
Mann and the Island Beat, and Root Awakening from Santa
Cruz, California. Shuttle service is available from the PCC West
Campus Center for the Arts parking lot, beginning at 11 a.m. both
days. For more information, call 623-1000 or 622-5924;
or see the City Week listings.
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In recent years, the reggae fest--most often packaged as a national
tour like Sunsplash and this weekend's annual 