Yesterday during my early morning walk some thoughts began to materialize through my synaptic haze. I started reflecting on the music of my youth mostly punk rock and new wave during my college days. Obviously much of that music was angst driven, aggressive, intense but still a lot of fun. Even the names were fun: Sex Pistols, the Dead Boys, Devo, Elvis Costello, the Ramones where like a happy family they all shared the pseudo-surname together. Probably the most whimsical titles of their day were X-Ray Specs: Oh Bondage Up Yours and Richard Hell's: Love Comes in Spurts. A sonic release for unanswered questions, fears, suspicions, ignorance, pretense, know-it-allism, etc. It dawned on me that anger/angst is a luxury of youth since it requires much energy to fuel and maintain. Then it hit me how reggae was a companion to punk. Maybe there weren't comparable music mashups like in the day of hip-hop and thrash ala Judgement Night, but it seemed a pairing that worked. Perhaps the cooler reggae music was the chill out of it's day. Perhaps because punks and Jamaicans other African Dash people felt disenfranchised by the system du jour and wanted a way to get it out of their system without resorting to: "Burn baby burn" methodology?
I don't remember my introduction to reggae that clearly. Probably first heard Clapton doing his staid version of Bob Marley & the Wailers: I Shot the Sheriff which hit me like audio Prozac. The original of course was better but only later did I find out about The Wailers early days and the much more authentic rawer sound of that music. Johnny Nash's: I Can See Clearly Now was a great tune which I dug, not realizing that it was reggae-flavored pop. Jimmy Cliff probably got me a little bit closer to the source with "The Harder They Fall." The beginning of the true path began with my trips to a Jamaican-owned boutique by Prospect Park in Brooklyn where I was able to purchase 45's from Jamaican labels with plain white sleeves and sometimes hand stamped labels: too funky cool. I even remember getting a reggae Christmas album featuring Jacob Miller who also did: Dreadlocks Can't Live in a Tenement Yard" and was a major player in the movie "Rockers" which was the ultimate in JA cool-very OG Jamaican-style mon. I was partial to the toasters like U-Roy and IRoy who were the forerunners of rappers talking their rap over samples of reggae often "dubbified" the more echoey the better.
Finally, on one of my trips back to NYC and visiting this cool boutique where I got clothing as well as recent released punk, new wave and reggae, the cute English owner introduced me to LKJ-Linton Kwesi Johnson. An English poet that rapped his poems over some awesome well produced reggae driven by a band of top notch musicians. That really was the ultimate for me: musical, cool, intelligent, political,social commentary. Could it be any better for a music loving college student?
Sonny's Lettah (Anti-sus Poem)From Brixton Prison, Jebb Avenue London S.W. 2 Inglan
Dear mama
good day
I hope that when these few lines reach you they may
find you in the best of health
I doun know how to tell ya dis
for I did mek a solemn promise
to tek care a lickle Jim
an try mi bes fi look out fi himmama, I really did try mi bes
but none a di less
sorry fi tell ya seh, poor lickle Jim get arres
it was de miggle a di rush hour
hevrybody jus a hustle and a bustle
to go home fi dem evenin shower
mi an Jim stan up waitin pon a bus
not causin no fusswhen all of a sudden a police van pull up
out jump tree policemen
de whole a dem carryin baton
dem walk straight up to me and Jim
one a dem hold on to Jim
seh dem tekin him in
Jim tell him fi leggo a him
for him nah do nutt'n
and 'im nah t'ief, not even a but'n
Jim start to wriggle
de police start to gigglemama, mek I tell you wa dem do to Jim?
mek I tell you wa dem do to 'im?Dem thump him him in him belly and it turn to jelly
Dem lick 'im pon 'im back and 'im rib get pop
Dem thump him pon him head but it tough like lead
Dem kick 'im in 'im seed and it started to bleedMama, I jus couldn't stan up deh, nah do nuttin'
So mi jook one in him eye and him started fi cry
me thump him pon him mout and him started fi shout
me kick him pon him shin so him started fi spin
me hit him pon him chin an him drop pon a bin
- an crash, an deadMore policman come dung
dem beat me to the grung
dem charge Jim fi sus
dem charge mi fi murdahmama, doan fret
doan get depress an downhearted
be of good courage
till I hear from you
I remain
Your son,
Sonny
