The Riddim the Rebel

It must have been the suggestion of solution. An apparent simple yet all-encompassing “truth” – or perhaps “deeper” truth – that promised to solve a lingering question in my mind. I remember this quote from since I was about 14 years old (so about 25 years ago). By then I was already very interested in music. I was well into reggae, but also focussed at times on other music. I already had an interest in geography and specifically Africa, so I combined that interest by listening sometimes to World music from different continents. It was in such a context that I got intrigued by the following “explanation”, I read in some book (I believe a library book).

“The main focus in music from Europe is on harmony, in music from Asia on melody, and in music from Africa on rhythm”.

Of course it is terribly simplified (and therefore not totally “true”), and I recall that the book in which I read this statement already had more nuance in separate chapters. Harmony plays a role in African music (though in some parts of Africa more than others) as does melody, for instance. In fact harmony, melody, and rhythm play – to differing degrees – roles in traditional music from all continents (Africa, Asia, Europe, and also America and Oceania for that matter).

The different “emphasis” in music per continent still holds overall true, though. This different emphasis still kept intriguing me: especially when considering it broader in a philosophical sense. Music should be seen – I think – as an essential part of any culture: it is never separate from a culture. Moreover: as culture, music is an essential part of life, of how people live their lives. That is ALL people. Not just the few musicians doing it for a living, or the music fans or listeners. I see it as more than a separate and specialized recreational form, like, say, snooker, chess, or mountain climbing. Those activities require artifice, a deliberate effort to fabricate. Music is there in every human.. with our heart beat, from birth. The Wikipedia article (English) on Rhythm states as much.

EUROPE AND ASIA

As music thus reflects basic culture and life, it makes the different emphasis in different parts all the more interesting. What does the fact that European music focuses relatively more on harmony - specifically with what is called “homophony” - say about its culture? That can be seen as positive and negative. While “harmony” for many has a (seemingly) positive meaning, to harmonize however also means to “structure”: read: to dominate/control. Not just oneself, but also others. Musical homophony and chords typical in European music exist by not tolerating dissonance or independence of sounds from a common harmonic base. You can say it is therefore more “intolerant” of difference and freedom.

Then within European music there are differences. I also remember having read earlier in my life, something I also still remember (for some reason): Italian classical/traditional music is characterized relatively more by melody, German/Austrian classical/traditional music by harmony, and Spanish classical/traditional music more by rhythm. Being half-Italian (on my father’s side) and half-Spanish (on my mother’s side) I found this remarkable as well.

Why Italians tend a bit more to an “Asian” melody focus, and Spaniards more to an “African” rhythm focus is not that self-evident, but can maybe be explained. Pure geographically: Spain almost borders Africa. There must have even been some cultural and/or genetic interchange with Africa since ancient (pre)history, more than in other parts of Europe (genetical studies on “African admixture in Europe” seem to confirm this). Historically: the Moors (led by Arabs, but including Berbers and other Africans) ruled over large parts of Spain for centuries (8thc-15 c. AD). Or maybe it is an imperial/colonial past coming back: African rhythms via Latin America and the Caribbean travelled back to Spain as it became the first colonizer of that part of the world, after 1492. Likewise, Marco Polo probably brought Asian influences/aspects to Italy, while there also is a long historical (trade) connection between Italy/Venice and Turkey (and beyond). The pizza is after all also originally Turkish, and pasta from Asia.

Asia is a very large continent, and imagine all the musical differences throughout that continent. I must admit, I haven’t focussed very much on Asian musical structures in my life (more on African music), let alone comparing Arab, Indian, South East Asian, Chinese and other music. It also is largely “outside the scope” of this post, as they say. If it is indeed true that “melody” is overall more important in Asia..what does that say about its essential culture? Is it a more “spiritual” culture? (as the cliché about Asia already holds). More “imaginative” perhaps? More “enlightened”? If these are mind-sets helping to shape melodies (which can be disputed)..

The aforementioned Wikipedia article on Rhythm also points at the use of rhythm in music in Asia (e.g. the tabla in India), and even gives examples of Polyrhythm – more common in Africa -, such as in Indonesia Gamelan music. This goes to show that all aspects (rhythm, harmony, and melody) return in world-wide music. Likewise, current Flamenco music in southern Spain, influenced by local Andalusian, Gipsy, Moorish and other influences, has many rhythmic aspects, often through castagnets or hand-clapping (or slapping the wood of the guitar). Interestingly: maybe the best-known Flamenco instrumental – Paco de Lucía’s ‘Entre Dos Aguas’, employed Afro-Caribbean (Eastern Cuban) bongos and other percussion, alongside Paco’s Spanish guitar..

AFRICA

Within Africa there is likewise much variation, of course. The North and parts of East Africa have received Arab and Middle Eastern influences (mostly moving the music partly toward melody and harmony). This is not a total change, though. Interestingly, the music of the people of Ethiopia speaking Semitic and Hamitic languages (Amhara and others) is decidedly more rhythmic and sub-Saharan African in character, when compared to Arab/Middle Eastern music (or from the other side of the Red Sea, so to speak), showing thus mixed influences, including from Africa itself.

Within Africa, further, West Africa is known for music with rhythm and polyrhythm, but also often “harmony”: vocally and otherwise. Although mostly in another way than the standard “chord progression” of Western music. African music tends to be characterized by “polyphony”, contrary to homophony (though this is also found in Africa), more common in Western music. With polyphony different musical parts maintain their independence in a same piece, while interacting. Just think of the rhythms and “answering” rhythms, or cross-rhythms, heard at the same time in traditional African music: polyrhythmic music. No forced harmonizing, and therefore freer, more tolerant. That can be seen as positive.

Then there is the (overall!) focus on “rhythm” by itself (poly- or not): more characteristic of African, especially sub-Saharan African music. What does that say about a culture? Babatunde Olatunji – a famous, earlier Nigerian percussionist – once said: “rhythm is the soul of life”. Interesting: because the “soul” of life refers to the spiritual and imaginative, some associate more with “melody” or “harmony” than with “rhythm”. Somehow “rhythm” got connected too much with the “basic” (and therefore “simple” or “primitive”) in the Western/Euro-centric mind. Olatunji’s comment contradicts that: rhythm is not just life practically (heart beat, day/night, eat/sleep), no, it is also the “soul” (spirit, imagination) of life..

This "soul of life" is also illustrated by the symbolic meanings attached to rhythms within African music. I refer specifically to how in polyrhythmic pieces the main rhythm - generally more steady - tends to be symbolic of the main "strength" or direction one goes in a human life, while other rhythms respond to this or interrupt this main rhythm, representing symbolically either "challenges" in life disrupting this direction/goal, or otherwise positive, alternative "hope". These meanings are mostly expressed through the use of different drum types, with lower/bass drums more often representing strength/direction and higher/treble drums often challenges or hope.

In the remainder of this post I will focus on this meaning of “rhythm” and polyphony in Black music, specifically reggae (of which I know most). How did music with “the soul of life” (rhythm) survive the slave trade/slavery: the African diaspora? And did “freer” polyphony survive the Western, harmonizing tyranny? Did rhythm and polyphony remain as important in the music of Africans in the West, as in Africa itself? Or did they become important in new ways?

That rhythm and polyphony survived among Africans in the West is evident and proven. Therefore I will focus on “in what ways”. Reggae will be the main example and case – due to my acquired knowledge about it -, through which I will do this. It is not the only genre I will discuss, though.

First a bit more about rhythm as such, specifically in African music.

RHYTHM

In main definitions of rhythm, also the one in Wikipedia, the word “regulated” or ”regular” recurs (recurs regularly, ha!). This was also the original meaning of the Greek term. These tend to be rational, scientific explanations. The Wikipedia (English) article on rhythm as I write this opens as such:

Rhythm (from Greek ῥυθμός—rhythmos, "any regular recurring motion, symmetry"[1]) generally means a "movement marked by the regulated succession of strong and weak elements, or of opposite or different conditions."

I also know of more philosophical, or, if you will, “spiritual” explanations, such as in a book I have on Percussion instruments and percussion (the book is in Dutch and is called: ‘Trommels & klankinstrumenten’, author Töm Klöwer, year 1996). Interestingly, the author treats various kind of drums and percussion instruments, after which he focusses on rhythm in music, (and finally gives clues and guidelines for exercise).

In the more abstract/theoretical part on “rhythm” in the last book, the author, Töm Klöwer, associates the essential human connection with rhythm with the heart beat of the mother an unborn child hears. That’s where it starts. The three and two meter (3-2: common in several African drum patterns) also has this basic connection with life, nature, and biology: the heartbeat has two beats, whereas the act of breathing goes in three (even though some might think two): inhale – pause – exhale. African drum rhythms often relate to that.

Control over one’s own life – and the connection with nature’s cycle (of e.g. day and night, rain and sunshine etcetera) is thus based on rhythm. Simplistically you might therefore say that music focussed on rhythm deals more on the essence of life and the connection with nature, whereas harmony/chord music deals more with systems and organization, and melodic music with, well, imagination? These are maybe neutral concepts – not the one better than the other – though I find that the harmonic focus in much Western/European music has certain oppressive/intolerant aspects, inherent to systems, especially toward individual difference. Kind of contradictory in a culture (the West/Europe) which praises its own individualism so much.

In Africa there is harmony, in vocals often, melody too (the indigenous – tuned - mbira/kalimba thumb piano can make melodies for example, as do indigenous wind instruments and xylophones), but generally combining with rhythm (thus: life and nature). That’s the strength of it, I would argue, as it results in synergy..

That “rhythm is the soul of life”, as Babatunde Olatunji stated, is also exemplified by the fact that the rhythms by drums and other instruments in several African religious/spiritual traditions serve to invoke spirits or deities – through specific rhythmic patterns - , that then possess persons, directing their body movements, eventually to (as other religions) direct or explain life choices/events, beliefs, or situations.

Furthermore – and somehow in line with this - , dance and music are not separate domains in African music. Simply put: music is almost inherently to dance and move your body to. That differs from European culture, where dancing is a separate and specialized activity, like e.g. chess. That dance-music interrelation probably kept the rhythmical focus (or vice versa) in African music, as our common sense would of course tell us.

What can be seen as ironic is that some African languages do (or originally did not) have a separate word in their vocabulary for “rhythm” or even “music”. Different type of drums do have names, for instance, but there is then not a direct term for “music”, even if rhythm and music are very prevalent in the culture. The irony is that music and rhythm are so dominant in and interwoven with daily life itself in these cultures, that it need not be named separate as such. Music is simply part of life.

I know something about African music, a bit about European music, a bit less about Asian music, but I know most about Afro-Caribbean, especially Jamaican music. I am going to continue on discussing the deeper role of “rhythm” in music of the African diaspora, especially reggae.

SLAVE TRADE

The slave trade has been one of the greatest evils done unto the African continent, still affecting it today. Africa has been relatively more affected by it, even if slavery was found historically on all continents “since organized man”. Looking at the scale and numbers, Africa has been the continent most negatively affected by it.

First Arab and other Muslim slave traders held much Africans in slavery, sanctioned by a belief that non-Muslims or infidels could be enslaved. This was for economical and power reasons, but also the Islam as religion itself – like Christianity – enabled it in some sense. That the main messenger of God’s/Allah’s messages, Muhammed, owned slaves (including an Ethiopian/African) himself when converting, did not help to condemn it as “ungodly” or immoral, probably. Many millions of black Africans, with a slight preference for women for harems, thus were transported in chains across the Sahara, and ended up in several Middle Eastern countries. Not every one knows that due to this history, countries like Iran, Iraq, and Turkey knew discernible – and discriminated - “black minorities”. Eventually, most of them mixed with locals, but they are still recognizable. So-called Afro-Turks are still being discriminated against, and Iran – related to this – knows some carnivalesque “blackface/minstrelcy” depicting Blacks, up to today.

Then, came the Europeans on an equally large scale, perhaps more intensive in time. It started even before Columbus “discovered” the Americas in the name of Spain. Columbus was not a Spaniard (even if some history books at schools in the Caribbean still teach this, I read), but from Genova in what is now Italy: a city-state with a tradition of sea-faring and trade, including in (also African) slaves, also in the eastern Atlantic. Also the Portuguese, had a tradition already in the 14th c. of trading in African slaves in the eastern Atlantic. This was even before 1492 and Spain claimed ownership to the Americas.

In fact, Batholomew de las Casas, who is said to propose importing Africans as slaves in the Americas (first on what is now Hispaniola) to replace Amerindians, referred to the earlier Portuguese activities as example for this.

Spaniards started importing slaves – first gradually, later higher numbers - in their colonies since the early-16th c., the Portuguese in Brazil, and soon after the Dutch, English, French and others. Meanwhile the plantation industrial complex got more developed (under Dutch-Brazilian influence), requiring even more African slaves, in higher numbers than before, since the 18th c., when the English were also very active in it. Thus came about the “slave societies” in the Caribbean, with a majority population of enslaved Africans, though also Brazil, Colombia, Cuba, USA and other parts of the Americas had high numbers of African slave imports.

All in all millions, some say over 50 million, Africans were deracinated, many died along the way, and those who survived were enslaved, and lived shorter, harder lives. They were not only taken by force from their homeland – sometimes (as with the Arab/Islamic slave trade) aided by African middle-men/collaborators - , but were also culturally deracinated. They lost their family names, their family bonds, cultural connections, and often also their language.

There were differences between slave regimes in the Americas. “Divide and conquer” was applied by all European colonizers, but in different ways. In most English colonies – though to differing degrees – ethnic bonding of Africans – e.g. Coromantee or Congo socializing with each other and talking their own tongue, was feared and therefore at least discouraged. This group bonding was probably seen a s a forebode to concerted efforts of rebellion against their state. The Spanish and Portuguese slave regimes were known as a bit more loose and less strict, with at least in theory a few laws protecting slaves. The bonding on ethnic grounds among African slaves was tolerated more in e.g. Cuba and Brazil, and e.g. slaves of Yoruba or Congo origin, were legally allowed to come together in clubs, speak their own tongue and involve in music or other cultural activities, as long as it did not interfere too much with plantation work. Case in point: at some point, African slaves were forbidden to beat drums in English colonies; such an official and total prohibition of drumming did not take place in Spanish colonies (though it was limited and frowned upon).

The level of “tolerance” of the Spanish or Portuguese colonial or authorities did differ per period, but overall some direct African continuities could be maintained this way in e.g. Cuba and Brazil. But also in the British Caribbean , against even more odds, African culture was maintained: principles and concepts behind it, but even African direct continuities. I think that as long as basic and specific values were maintained, the essential culture also survived. Even the seemingly very African traditions like the Afro-Cuban Santería religion in Cuba, Vodou in Haiti, or certain percussive traditions, are partly similar to where they are from in Africa..but not exactly the same. They are not identical, so even there some difference developed between Africa and the West. This is due to a different historical development, and a different geographical location.

The Yoruba language can be heard in Cuba at Santería gatherings, or even Kikongo in other Afro-Cuban traditions of Central-African origin (like Palo), or Coromantee among Surinamese Maroons during certain rituals, but it is not linguistically identical to how Yoruba, Bakongo, or Coromantee people in Africa today talk, for example. Linguistically it is partly simplified and changed.

There was change, but to differing degrees, among African-descended people in the West/Americas, you can conclude. The underlying African musical and cultural principles – and their connection to specific world views and social life - were however maintained by Blacks in the Americas.

I am going to illustrate this by focussing on the role of “rhythm” in a Afro-Caribbean music genre I by now have learned a lot about (being a fan for over 26 years): reggae, from Jamaica.

JAMAICAN MUSIC

Some think that in reggae music the bass guitar is the most important instrument, others “know” that the drums are in fact the most important. I would say it like this: in Reggae Music (in general) the drums are the most important instrument, but in (specific) Reggae SONGS the bass guitar mostly is (along with the vocal parts). Not that the drums are always the same throughout songs, but the bass tends to drive the chords/melody – and sung part -, and partly the rhythm in a distinct direction, helping it to distinguish more from other songs (with e.g. a similar drum pattern, or rhythm guitar pattern etcetera)..

In any case, the drums helps define what reggae is. The accent on the off-beat, or "after beat" (not on the standard 2 and 4 of 4/4), distinguishes reggae from rhythm & blues or rock (or most pop). This is driven by the drums, accentuating the first and –especially - 3rd count of a 4/4 bar. Or on the 2 when counting double time One-AND-Two-AND-Three-AND-Four. The rhythm guitar chops in between on the 2nd and 4th, following these drums.

SKA

The change to the after-beat (or off-beat) gave rise to a new, Jamaican music style, developing from local influences, as well as from US Black music like R&B, called Ska, arising around 1960. Some think the New Orleans variant of R&B, which was a bit more “syncopical” rhythmically was especially influential in Jamaica. In light of the importance of drums, local Jamaican drumming, such as part of Afro-Jamaican belief systems like Kumina, Pocamania, or Burru had also an influential on developing Jamaican genres: from ska, to rocksteady, and reggae. Some drummers in the ska era, such as Lloyd Knibb of the Skatalites, and others, were influenced by Latin and Cuban drumming styles, which contained much African continuities, as were percussionists. The wide-spread percussion instruments Congas and Bongos are of Afro-Cuban origin (both with influences from Congo/Angola), found a way in US Jazz, but also spread throughout the Caribbean and Jamaica.

The “heart beat” of a.o. Kumina drumming in rural Jamaica (especially maintained in the Eastern parish St Thomas (East of the capital Kingston), influenced from early on reggae drumming (as well as Rastafari music). Some argue that the emphasis on the Third count of a 4/4 bar came indirectly forth out of this “heart beat” drumming (after two low counts, came a higher/”snare”/treble counter beat on the third). Sounds probable, I think.

The “heart beat” recurs throughout drumming in Africa itself, along with related 3-2 patterns.

‘MODERN DRUMMER’ ISSUE

There is a magazine/journal for drummers, called ‘Modern Drummer’ – self-claimed to be the world’s nr. 1 drum magazine -, which is published in the US. It had an interesting Special Issue, that appeared in August 2012, devoted to Reggae, Ska, and Rocksteady grooves, and among other things contained interviews with, or portraits of, famous Jamaican drummers Carlton Barrett, Sly Dunbar, Carlton “Santa” Davis, Style Scott (of the Roots Radics), Leroy “Horsemouth” Wallace, Lloyd Knibb, Willie Stewart (of Third World), and others.

It offered a broad, if not a comprehensive overview of drumming in reggae (I missed some aspects), but it had definitely interesting aspects, even for non-drummers. Not strange that it contained specific lingo and specialized terms for drummers that are not explained (not really necessary with the magazine’s target audience). Looking at the theme I focus now on – rhythm/riddim – it had some insightful portions. It mentioned the typical rhythmical “displacement” of Jamaican drum patterns toward the after-beat or off-beat, setting it apart from other genres like rock.

The interesting thing about this is that Jamaican music distinguished itself – created an own “identity” so to speak – through rhythm. “The rhythm (is) the rebel”, as Chuck D of Public Enemy once rapped. This own after-beat-focussed riddim appeared first around 1960, when ska developed out of different influences: US Rhythm & Blues, jazz (many musicians then in Jamaica were then jazz musicians), some Latin influences, but also local Jamaican folk music like mento, drumming, and percussion. Lloyd Knibb who combined jazz/Latin influences with Afro-Jamaican drumming traditions like Burru, was one such connecting figures in this stage.

An interesting comment in the said issue of ‘Modern Drummer’ was that reggae drummers ought to realize to – obviously – stay in the beat/riddim -, but that is self-evident. Yet, in addition they should realize, it is stated, that: “less is more”, when compared to other genres where “flashy” fills are relatively more common by drummers. Drummers should, as said by Jimmy Cliff in the same issue, “keep it steady”, and therefore “hypnotic”. Less in indeed more.

At the same time, another interesting comment in the same issue, from an earlier interview with Carlton Barret (of the Wailers) - who deceased in 1987 - is worthy to quote in length:

"It's a spiritual vibe that I try and get from my drums to the music. Because drums are from the slavery days and from Africa, it comes from a lot of history. The reggae drummer carries that history more than the guitarist or keyboard player, and the good reggae drummers make playing a spiritual experience"(Carlton Barret).

In the same vein is a line from the lyrics of the song 'Very Well' (1979), by reggae group the Wailing Souls: "Every sound of the drum you hear it's an African beat".

ROCKSTEADY

Rocksteady, a genre following ska, developing in Jamaica around 1966, had the same off-beat focus, but was slower than ska, and had a more pronounced bass guitar (now electric), playing different, more closed patterns, when compared to the acoustic and “walking” (jazz-like) bass in ska. Rocksteady’s slower allowed more experimentation of drummers, including with different influences. On the other hand, it is said, that overall the role of drums diminished in most rocksteady, because both the bass and guitar in rocksteady began to play more “percussive” (when compared to ska). So, overall rocksteady is not less-rhythmic than ska, but “different rhythmic”. The “one drop” drum pattern, emphasizing with bass and snare drum on the third of a 4/4 bar (or, again, on the Two, if counting like One-and-Two-and-Three-and-Four), arose especially with rocksteady, since 1966.

The fact that (e.g.) the bass became more percussive in rocksteady has another interesting aspect, pointing at intra-Caribbean borrowing. Not from nearby Cuba this time, from where some musical influences already reached Jamaica, but now from Trinidad’s steel pan tradition. An important guitar player working in Jamaica in the Rocksteady era was the Trinidadian Lynn Taitt. Taitt himself said that he was a pan (steeldrum) player, back in Trinidad, before taking up the guitar and that this influenced his style. Also, when he decided to play simultaneously his guitar with the bass line, giving many rocksteady songs a distinct – I find “groovy” - feel, with – if one wants to hear it – somewhat the feel of steel drums. Nowadays steel drums are more tuned, and is a so-called “chording instrument”, but they’re still also drums/percussion, and originally a rhythmic replacement of the drums banned then by colonial laws.

REGGAE

Rocksteady gave way to Reggae around 1968.It differed from rocksteady in musical characteristics, though – at first- not too much in tempo: early reggae up to around 1971 tended to be faster than later Roots Reggae.

One aspect distinguishing Reggae from Rocksteady was in the drumming. This became even more “syncopic” and – as some argue – incorporating more Afro-Caribbean drum and percussion influences, such as from the Nyabinghi, Kumina, Burru, and Pocamania traditions. One of the first reggae songs, by Lee “Scratch” Perry, ‘Why People Funny Boy’ (1968), included, according to Perry’s own statements , drum patterns inspired by a Pocamania (Afro-Christian) session at a church he happened to encounter. Of course this is a relatively “percussive” song (the keyboard also plays drum-like patterns), but in fact Reggae is overall relatively rhythmic , including drums, percussion, the rhythm guitar , but also the way the bass is played. The bass guitar is also a chording (“harmony/melodic”) instrument but is also used relatively rhythmically in Jamaican music, especially after the “walking bass” (more harmonic) was abandoned for Rocksteady bass lines.

In the Wikipedia article (English) on Reggae, it is also mentioned that alongside the drums, percussion is much used in Reggae. Further analysis shows that especially in the Roots Reggae Era since about 1973 – when Rastafari was very influential on Reggae – the use of additional percussion instruments increased, like (a)kete drums (as used in Nyabinghi gatherings among Rastas), or also conga’s and bongo’s (both originally Afro-Cuban, but in sound similar to drums used traditionally in Jamaica), and rasps, cowbells and shakers (or self-made things like bottles). Congas are used and played by e.g. Burning Spear, while Sly Dunbar added bongos to his drum-set. The Timbales, another Cuban instrument, influenced the way the snare drum was pitched by some Jamaican drummers: tighter/sharper. African cross-rhythms occur when these percussion instruments are added, even when improvizing. The Itals ‘Me Waan Justice’ is a good example of this: an almost perfect blend of a Reggae Riddim (still there, albeit more “hidden”) with Afro-Jamaican percussive, drumming traditions, with evident African continuities.

INSTRUMENTALS

“Riddim” is also the Jamaican word for instrumental. More specifically the basic instrumental “to be reused” by other singers to sing or toast over. This practice of “reusing instrumentals/riddims had developed by the early 1980s, and seems less original to many, and it probably arose for economic reasons as well. There is however still creativity and talent needed to breathe new life into existing riddims by creating strong vocal parts. Plus, many Riddims just “stay” good, and do not grow old soon. The term “riddim” refers to the whole instrumental, including the bass line: drum and bass at its most basic, often including guitar and keyboard parts. So strictly speaking a Riddim (meaning here “instrumental”) is not “purely rhythmic”. Yet, the fact that an instrumental part of a song is called a “Riddim”, says something about rhythm’s role in the music genre.

Likewise Dub Reggae: also largely instrumental, remixed Reggae songs (with sound effects) were and are described as “Raw Rhythm”, also by its early inventors (King Tubby and others), even if the bass is often important in Dub, it is placed within a rhythmic framework.

DANCEHALL

Dancehall Reggae is generally associated with a shift away (in part, at least) from African consciousness and Rastafari. Perhaps ironically, it is however argued, also by people who know what they’re talking about - like drummer Sly Dunbar - that the digital/computer-made Dancehall Riddims since the later 1980s, seemed more bare and Techno-like superficially, but actually also continued more complex African drumming/rhythmic continuities, like the ones discussed before: cross-rhythms and polyrhythm/polyphony. A shift to “purer” riddim, meant to dance to, inherently meant a practical Africanization, but the precise musical ways this occurs in dancehall, shows more of the African heritage (cross-rhythms for example), than other electronic music known as rhythmic (Techno, House, etc.).

Jamaican music maintained more African continuities that related Black American music, The latter still also had some African continuities, only to a lesser degree. Ska was for instance more syncopic than R&B when it arose around 1960, while current Digital Dancehall is rhythmically generally more complex (overall) than most “new-school”, digital hip-hop music and beats, of the same time (some hip-hop fans contest this, saying it is different, not less complex or layered).

James Brown’s music (strongly focussed on drums and rhythm, of course: he used two drum kits for recording, and used a more rhythmic phrasing for e.g. horns, guitars and other instruments), on the other hand, came closer to the African polyrhythmic roots, as did/does the music of some other Black US artists.

VOCALS

In vocals the call-and-response singing is characteristically African, reflective of both the polyphony and rhythm in sub-Saharan African music, going back a long time. This survived in almost all Black music genres in the Americas: in the US, Caribbean, and Latin America. Even before ska, it was present in Jamaican Mento (an earlier rural, folk style, which I discussed in another blog post, of August 2013), and in various local Afro-Jamaican and Afro-Christian traditions. Via those two routes (US Black music, and local traditions), it almost inevitably entered Jamaican music.

The interesting thing about call-and-response singing is that it combines the three basic musical aspects I mentioned at the beginning - melody, harmony, and rhythm - with the rhythm being overall most decisive, albeit combined toward a synergy. Call-and-response is a vocal way, you might say, of rhythm- and counter-rhythm, found traditionally in African polyrhythmic music.

Another vocal tradition is of course evidently rhythmic: the dee-jaying: starting with toasting, now called chatting. I devoted another blog post to this, of October 2013. It is a Jamaican innovation, that would influence Rapping in the US. It consists of rhythmically singing/talking over existing instrumental music, with a higher emphasis on a rhythmic flow than on melody or harmony. Often it combines “pure” rhythmic talking with what is more like chanting or singing. Still, the shift toward the rhythmic is clear, and said to derive from ancient African Griot traditions.

Again, the Toasting and Chatting is not rhythmical in a simple, but rather in a complex/layered way, and just listening to experienced Toasters/Chatters from older times (like U-Roy or I-Roy), or current ones like Sizzla, Capleton, Jah Mason, Lutan Fyah, Junior Kelly and others, would show this: there are actually mostly more complex layers of rhythms within one song, interchanging each other. This often even gives the songs a polyrhythm/ polyphonic feel. Again: this – variety and layers (or: dexterity) within rhythmic Toasting - diminished somewhat in its derivative hip-hop: all in all mostly flatter and less-layered rhythmically, though there are exceptions.

CONCLUSION

Jamaican music created its own identity – a musical, but also broader a cultural and “national” identity – first through rhythm. In other words: by returning to African, cultural roots, which may seem paradoxical, but is not. For, as Marcus Garvey said: “a tree without good roots cannot bear good fruit(s)”. Rhythm had thus a foundational importance in Jamaican music, and the focus on rhythm remained important in all music genres that developed in Jamaica.

This focus on rhythm includes the changing drum styles (e.g. One Drop, Rockers, Steppers) but still on a solid off-beat or after-beat base and drum accent on the Third count of 4/4 (or the Two when counted differently: One – and –Two-and Three-and-Four), typical of Jamaican music since Ska. Further, it is there in the relatively percussive bass (and guitar) playing that became characteristic, and the relatively frequent use of added percussion/drums, often even directing songs, or at least adding counter-rhythms. Rhythm also shows, vocally, in the common call-and response vocals, and the later developed Toasting/chatting styles.

This rhythmic tradition was a crucial ingredient, that in a combination with good, honest, “soulful” singing, and good melodies and harmonies, resulted - as a type of “rhythm-shaped synergy” - in a tasteful, unique, and inspiring “recepy”.

Blood Dunza : money in Jamaican reggae lyrics

Reggae is originally ghetto music. In essence it still is. It arose in the Jamaican ghettos, with influences from equally poor (once) rural dwellers. Readers may know already that reggae – similar to other Black music genres – developed among poor, oppressed people, who use music to survive, and to express themselves and their situation and rebellion. Jamaica is overall also a poor, developing country, with high rates of poverty and, relatedly of course, unemployment.

It is not surprising, therefore, that in reggae lyrics “money” is a recurring theme. Yet, in fact, money is to some degree worldwide a theme in popular culture and music, also in the wealthy Western world. There are of course (relatively) poor people everywhere. “Money runs the world” as some say.

I choose in this post, however, to discuss how money is mentioned and discussed in specifically the Jamaican music genre reggae (including dancehall). I relate this to cultural and economic characteristics of Jamaica.

A characteristic of the lyrics in reggae (especially Roots Reggae), moreover, and which sets it apart from other genres, is the fact that social critique and social and topical issues are a common part of these lyrics. This is much less the case in other genres like soul, country, funk, salsa, Western pop, techno, and much of hip-hop and rock, wherein (overall) either love/romantic or "party" lyrics tend to be the norm.

This also makes that "deeper" lyrics on money and its meanings can probably be found more in reggae lyrics than in those of other genres.

DUNZA

A local Jamaican Creole term for money is “Dunza/Dunsa” (also “Dunny”). The origin of this term is according to linguists to be found in the Jamaican word for “done” (as in “finished”). It means thus that it – money - is always finished too soon. This in itself says something about its social context. It makes the term Dunza somewhat “fatalistic”, you might say. At least when compared to more optimistic “slang” words for money that also exist in the world. These often point at least at possibilities money give: e.g. the common “dough” in English, which has translations in several languages, including as “pasta” – slang term for money in Spanish, or the similar "blé" - meaning "wheat" - slang for money in French. Other slang terms for money seem neutral (e.g. "green" or "paper"). There is in US hip-hop slang also the somewhat enigmatic term “gusto” for money. It is enigmatic, because in Spanish “gusto” means “taste” (or "pleasure"), which perhaps denotes a social class characteristic.

In the world of today one hardly can live without money. It is needed. In poor countries like Jamaica, especially among the poorest people, it is even more urgent than elsewhere. Some cultures outside of the West tend to be heralded as less materialistic than the Western world, for maintaining certain spiritual values. That these values are more there than in the West is often true, but in daily practice it’s a struggle for survival there, and thus a heightened focus on getting money, seemingly belying the less-materialistic culture.

RICH OR WEALTHY

I saw recently a documentary on white, European reggae artists Gentleman from Germany and Alborosie from Italy, called ‘Journey to Jah’ (2013). Gentleman in it said how the materialistic focus in Europe/Germany was something he wanted to free himself from, and for this reason went to Jamaica.

Materialism in wealthy European countries like Germany (and North America) is of course more than in a practical sense searching for or making money: it is a whole life ideology and broader cultural and societal complex, historically shaped by industrialization, economically favourable circumstances, and being accustomed to wealth. It has I think in a sense to do with the difference between being “rich” and being “wealthy”. Chris Rock, the US comedian, said that black people can be rich, but white people are in fact “wealthy”, the latter being a more enduring, powerful way of being rich, passed generationally.

Chris Rock points at the instability of being rich, when compared to stable “wealth” spread from generations from generations. In the latter sense – Chris Rock asserts - there are no “wealthy” black people in the US, only some “rich” ones. The same can be said of Jamaica of course, where the majority - like US Blacks - mainly descend from enslaved Africans who for generations got no money for their forced work, and thus could not gradually acquire wealth to pass on generationally, unlike (albeit to differing degrees) most white, free people. One of the historical inequalities slavery perpetuated..

In today's world Black people are thus economically still dependent on white people, in Jamaica and in the whole world (British-Dutch company Shell "owns" all oil in Nigeria, whereas Arabs own it themselves, to give an example). A dependency on white men and their wealth that Marcus Garvey in his day sought to end, by making economic independence of Africans part of his program.

The quest for money, as part of the struggle to survive thus remains relevant, especially “inna di ghetto”, among other (like rural) poor, and also to degrees among the lower middle class, in the developing country that is Jamaica.

The lure of making “quick money” by going into crime is a temptation that not all poor people can avoid, amidst their desperation. This found a way into musical expressions, thus degenerating in lyrics more and more. Gangsta rap of US artists like NWA, 50 Cent, and others, moved far from lyrics on black consciousness, social issues or injustices, and discuss instead boastful their gangster ways, girls they get through their acquired money, sex, or lyrics on (expensive) parties.

SLACKNESS

Similarly, in Jamaica some lyrics in the Dancehall subgenre moved away from the African consciousness, and social issues, or spirituality, of the Roots Reggae from the 1970s that was more influenced by Rastafari. Many lyrics - especially since the mid-1980s - moved instead to “Slackness” (sex, boasting, violence, materialism). A difference is maybe that boasting about being a criminal or gangster is a bit less common – at least in a direct way – in Jamaican music when compared to US hip-hop, although there are here and there some lyrics that glorify violence or crime. More common were and are however “cheeky” lyrics about explicit sex. Already earlier dee-jays like General Echo and Yellowman in the 1980s, and later Shabba Ranks and others – or now e.g. Elephant Man or Vybz Kartel – made/make this their trade mark. Some of these made/make occasional references to Rastafari or Black history, but more as an exception than as a rule.

Materialism is also a part of this. Dancehall artist Vybz Kartel for instance had (with others) a big hit called ‘Clarkes’ about fashionable shoes. Vybz Kartel is reputedly connected to criminality and gang violence, though he does not refer to this too directly in his lyrics. Also some other artists were accused – justly or unjustly – of criminal connections, some even going through trials or spending time in prison. The possibility of unjust accusations is in this case however not so absurd: especially artists critical of established powers can be “set up” due to a corrupt police/political system, and may not be involved in crime at all. Some others might be, or more indirectly.

The slackness in non-conscious lyrics in dancehall reggae emphasize parties, sex, women, fun, ego, violence, vanity….in other words: what you can do with money, how to spend it. Or: how to get it as easy as possible.. This materialist focus is thus in essence a lack of a “broader” vision, and lack of a deeper intellectual or spiritual focus. The daily, practical takes precedence over the eternal and philosophical.

MONEY IN SONG TITLES

A telling example is dancehall artist Vybz Kartel who has at least 10 (!) songs with “money” in the title alone (let alone elsewhere in the lyrics). Mostly in a not very “conscious” vein, though he sometimes refers to social problems. If in the title it is given logically more significance than other issues, that’s why the fact that a word is in the title is important (as “main theme” after all). Mavado, an artist in a similar lyrical (slackness-like) vein as Vybz Kartel, also has at least 7 songs with the word “money” in the title.

Among the lyrics of the Roots Reggae icons since the 1970s, e.g. Burning Spear, Jacob Miller, Culture, Bob Marley, Wailing Souls, Dennis Brown, Pablo Moses, Horace Andy,- by comparison - money figured/figures much less in the song titles (at most one or two titles per artist), though it was/is discussed, mostly critically, here and there in their lyrics. I, for example, don’t know of any - not even one - song title with the word "money" of either Bob Marley or Burning Spear. Also New Roots artists (Sizzla, Lutan Fyah, Queen Ifrica a.o.) have the word “money” less or rarely in their song titles, though I know of at least three song titles by Anthony B. and several by, for instance, Jah Vinci.

Anyhow, in a general sense one can say that the word "money" in song titles is more common (i.e. more the main theme) in slackness lyrics when compared to conscious/cultural lyrics.

The artist Gentleman’s view of Jamaica as less-materialistic than Western Europe is still not entirely untrue though. In the documentary ‘Journey to Jah’ (2013) I mentioned before, his view of this also reminded me – on the other hand – of the overly romantic naïveté that some Westerners showed - especially since the 1960s - when they glorified (and simplified) e.g. India and its people as “really spiritual” when compared to Westerners.

Specific examples Gentleman gave, however, also showed he really knew the specific Jamaican culture to a degree, and not – or not just at least – romantically searched just any “spiritual exotic Other” in the vein of Jean Jacques Rousseau’s “noble savage”. Noble savages who, when involved in crime and trickery, can nonetheless turn out to be as cold-hearted and wicked when smelling money as European colonizers were back then. Similar to Columbus, his crew, slaving pirates, and other European colonizers for the last 500 years. Not for nothing reggae artist Winston Rodney, a.k.a. Burning Spear, called Christopher Columbus the “first gangster” of the so-called New World.

RASTAFARI

A very good and "to-the-point" summary of Black history in Jamaica and of Rastafari in reggae lyrics can be found in a song that is not too well-known, not even among many reggae fans. It is recorded at the Black Ark studio and produced by Lee “Scratch” Perry, and is the song ‘History’ by Carlton Jackson, from 1977. The lyrics include the crucial phrase: “the Rastaman a bring civilization on ya (Jamaica)”: that is: after Babylon’s/Western colonial robbing, wickedness, slaughter and enslavement. Money (and greed) were main stimulators of the colonial project of Europeans, combined with a racial and religious sense of superiority. In that sense a departure from Babylon/Western oppression and greed is a sign of civilization brought by Rastafari.

Of course these values are most notable in Rastafari-influenced, or “conscious”(or “cultural”) Roots Reggae from the 1970s and early-1980s, as well as in New Roots, coming up later in the 1990s with the “Rasta Renaissance”, including artists like Sizzla, Capleton, Lutan Fyah, Jah Mason, I Wayne, Buju Banton, Fantan Mojah, Richie Spice, Chronixx and others.

These latter artists are contemporaries to Vybz Kartel, Elephant Man, Shabba Ranks and others, but have overall a different lyrical focus. Specifically focussing on the theme “money”: they discuss money more philosophical and socially critical, - at a higher level, so to speak -. Not just what to do with it, or as part of mere “party or sex lyrics” (for which money tends to be needed). Of course there are exceptions to this general rule – Vybz Kartel’s strong song ‘Poor people land’ can be deemed socially critical.

MONEY IN RASTA ARTISTS' LYRICS

To be more concrete, in Rasta artists’ lyrics money is for example discussed as “the root of all evil” (e.g. Horace Andy’s song ‘Money, money’ from the 1970s), these lyrics also relate how “for the love of money brothers/men/people fight against each other”, and criticize “blood dunza/money” paid by politicians or other powerful groups to employ poor in violent power struggles (as is common in Jamaican politics), to kill, or for warfare. Further, “seeking vanity, and “having no love of humanity” recurs throughout lyrics. So does the lamenting of friends (or female partners) who seem only opportunistically interested in your money. The Biblical quote “it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to go to heaven” is also quoted by some artists.

Greed, including of those who do not want to share, or those in higher positions, is also a recurring theme (the Wailing Souls' 'Bredda Gravalicious' for example), as is stealing and robbing.

Also, “the best things in life are free” recurs – in these or other words - in several reggae lyrics, in the same vein as what Bob Marley said in an interview that “money does not make you rich”, conveying an anti-materialist approach, that can be associated with the spiritual Rastafari way of thinking. This can thus be found in lyrics of many Rastafari (-identifying) artists, and can mostly be considered sincere (with exceptions of course).

TWO STRANDS

Overall, lyrics specifically on money help to exemplify two main strands – lyrically – in Jamaican music – in a simplified, general sense of course: Conscious, Rastafari lyrics on the one hand, and Slackness and party lyrics on the other. Of course, some artists switch between these two lyrical strands. One strand discusses the social effects of money, others do not discuss this, but only the practical, daily – superficial - effects of money. The word “conscious” for certain (deeper, broader) lyrics seems thus well-chosen. Like in other societies, in Jamaica and Jamaican music some focus more on the philosophical and deeper truths (“intellectuals” or “thinkers” if you will), others live predominantly for the moment, don’t think too deep, or want to learn or analyze less.

Such differences in mind-set are partly differing personal, individual dispositions or choices, but are often also guided and influenced by other people, social contexts and influences, or social and spiritual movements one encountered. Rastafari is one such movement in Jamaica. Jamaica is also a very Christian country, so the more formulaic warnings about money from the Bible (often also quoted by Rastas) can also have that source.

There is also some Christian or Gospel Reggae in Jamaica. That is another strand. Another strand is the “love song” strand – or “lovers rock” – dealing with romantic themes, but for this post on money lyrics and their meaning the contradiction between Conscious and Slackness lyrics seems more relevant to me.

CORRUPT

Moreover, the specific history and current context of Jamaica makes a Black pride movement necessary for self-worth, that was long denied to Black people. Also poverty leads people into desperation, and at times crime, especially when moral values in oneself do not encourage empathy toward other human beings. Politics is also very corrupt in Jamaica: giving money and benefits in return to votes and power, hereby making use of criminal leaders and gangs, giving these more intimidating, power over citizens. Likewise the police is – as in other countries - often also very corrupt in Jamaica. Junior Murvin (who passed away recently as I write this) referred to his in his 1976 song ‘Police and Thieves’, with money showing visually in the cover art of the album with the same name (police stealing from thieves and vice versa).

This complex of problems largely explains the high crime and murder rates in Jamaica: a combination of historical racial subjugation and oppression, resulting in lack of racial and ethnic pride and confidence, power differences, political lust for power and corruption, and persisting poverty and social inequalities.

Rastafari arose as an “antidote” or alternative to all this, and specifically also against an (over-)emphasis on materialism/money, albeit out of mere necessity, among poor people.

RESPONSES TO POVERTY

What both strands – “conscious/cultural” and “slackness” - in Jamaican music’s lyrics share is that one’s poverty is – understandably - lamented. After all, like I said in the beginning of this post: reggae and Jamaican music is ghetto music, discussing ghetto conditions, and later spread to wealthier (or just richer) “uptown” in Jamaica, and internationally. Artists thus grew and grow up generally poor, maybe to differing degrees. Their response and “solution” to this poverty is a matter of life choice, of values one upholds. As an example, the great, classic Mighty Diamonds song ‘I Need A Roof’ from 1976 (a number one it in Jamaican charts) lamented poverty, but also referred to Marcus Garvey’s words and what “the Rasses” (Rastas) say.

A life of crime can be seen as the negative choice – as it is at the cost of others - , and on the other end Rastafari is the positive, rebellious choice. In between are the humble, hard-working poor, who just work for their family – in any way the system allows - and don’t want - or don’t have the time – to stand out in any way: in actuality these are most residents in the ghetto. These may on occasion be Rastafari-sympathizers (or not, or Christian), or sometimes opportunistically deal with Dons (local criminal leaders in their area) to get some financial benefits.

Yet, I opine that the Rastafari-inspired artists and musicians are also necessary: as messengers, to tell the world through their music about the plight of poor people (in Jamaica in this case), black and African history, and to get a positive, redemptive message across. Since Bob Marley this message was spread internationally, and it continues to be by current artists. Discussing many social ills and injustices, including those related to money as “the root of all evil”.

Schijn

Het is al een tijd in het nieuws: een internationale economische crisis, deels voortkomend uit een financiële crisis, houdt meerdere landen in een soort paniek. De politiek verspreid het idee ervan, mede om gewenst beleid doorgang te doen vinden. Veel burgers gaan daarin mee.

Dit is al aan de gang sinds ongeveer 2005: begonnen in de VS, onder het presidentschap van George W. Bush. Toen werden onrealistische hypothecaire leningen verstrekt, die vele gezinnen in de VS in de schuld staken, en deze waren een belangrijke bron van de start van deze crisis. Dit werd vanaf 2005 – tot ook op het moment dat ik dit schrijf – een terugkerend thema en referentiekader en, in de praktijk, ook vaak een excuus, op macro- en microniveau. In de VS, en vroeg erna Europa, Azië, en de rest van de wereld.

Welbeschouwd is deze “crisis” discussie echter een schijndiscussie. De oorzaken en kenmerken ervan zullen wel aantoonbaar zijn, en sommige analyses, of delen ervan, zullen ook best correct zijn. Ik bedoel schijndiscussie echter in bredere en “diepere” zin. Zoals het voetbal een “schijnbeweging” kent, die afleidt van de eigenlijke beweging, zo leidt een schijndiscussie af van waar het eigenlijk over moet gaan, wat echt van belang is voor mensen.

De economische crisis is een crisis van de economie op grote schaal. Een crisis van het huidige, megalomane, Westerse economische systeem, met gevestigde machten en belangen. Gevestigde belangen die onder controle staan van een minderheid in de wereld. Zij bepalen dat het een crisis is: het is sowieso hún speeltje. Een speeltje waarvan wel veel mensen in de wereld – een meerderheid – afhankelijk zijn gemaakt. “Als mensen weten dat je afhankelijk van ze bent, dan maken ze misbruik van je”, zei mijn moeder eens tegen me.

Even interessant is de observatie die ik pas hoorde op een Rastafari-bijeenkomst, in Amsterdam: een dia-voorstelling over een landbouwproject in Ethiopië. Er werd toen gezegd: “de wereld is gekidnapt” - in economische zin - door Babylon. De Rasta-term “Babylon” is deels vertaalbaar met “’t Westerse systeem” (hoewel breder bedoeld). De wereld met mensen – en hun eigen economische initiatieven – wordt dus gekidnapt door grotere economische krachten (Babylon), uit op eigenbelang. Die willen dat je afhankelijk van hun bent, en blijft. Op dezelfde bijeenkomst werd treffend gezegd: “als je niet voor jezelf werkt, leef je andermans (en niet je eigen) droom”.

SCHAAL

Een belangrijk begrip hierbij is “schaal”. De grote schaal waarop de economie zich begeeft. Een grotendeels zelfvoorzienend dorpje met enkele boerderijen en wat land, dat handelt met omliggende gebieden, heeft niet die macht in deze wereld zoals de financiële markten in de VS, Europa, en Japan, en grote multinationals uit vooral die landen. Deze hebben de macht om hele economieën te sturen – wereldwijd -, het onderwijssysteem te beïnvloeden, het soort (geestdodende) werk voor de massa te verspreiden, en de politiek aan zich te verbinden. Ook hebben ze internationaal invloed op welvaartsverschillen (deze veelal vergrotend), en de natuur, inclusief negatieve gevolgen voor het milieu. Door die grote schaal zijn die negatieve invloeden ook massaal van omvang. Het probleem is dus de grote schaal van het Westerse systeem of, dit omvattend, “Babylon”.

Er zijn veel voorstanders in de wereld van dit Westerse systeem, veel mensen die ertegen zijn, en een nog grotere groep die eigenlijk geen van beide kanten heeft gekozen, maar er niet over na denken, omdat ze moeten overleven. Geld verdienen om te eten en voor het gezin te zorgen. Dan maar een saai lopende band-baantje bij die grote Amerikaanse, Britse, of Japanse fabriek. Geestdodend werk en zeker niet je persoonlijke kwaliteiten aansprekend, maar hé: je krijgt een maandelijks loon. Het voedsel wordt ook steeds minder natuurlijk en gemanipuleerd..maar goed: dat is wat er nu eenmaal te krijgen is omdat het massaal, goedkoop beschikbaar wordt gemaakt. En toch ook leuk en interessant al die technologie, speeltjes, nieuwe plastic dingen, verschillende typen auto’s, merkschoenen, en smaken. Misschien vinden mensen het ook leuk om zo deel uit te maken van iets groters, in dit geval de moderniteit.

DE MENSELIJKE MAAT

De interessante vraag nu, in mijn beleving, is in hoeverre die egocentrische economie van de grote schaal echt aan menselijke behoeften beantwoordt. Het is voorbij de menselijke maat: je weet niet wat je eet, waar het vandaan komt, of hoe het gemaakt is. Het komt ergens hogers vandaan en je slikt het maar. Daar is toch een onbalans. Een vervreemding, kun je zeggen. Ook de manipulatie en onnatuurlijke verwerking van producten die oorspronkelijk uit de natuur komen, kunnen nooit goed zijn voor het menselijk lichaam. Kan het menselijk lichaam onnatuurlijke dingen wel aan: onnatuurlijk verwerkt voedsel, luchtvervuiling? Nee, zou je zeggen. Dat lijkt ook logisch.

Evenzeer is het werk dat van veel mensen wereldwijd verlangd – eigenlijk vaak geëist – wordt, deel van een productieproces dat ook niet goed te overzien is. Beleidsprocessen in bedrijven en organisaties waar men werkt zijn ook zelden goed te overzien, en mede daardoor ondemocratisch. Men draait mee in een bedrijf, en op veel werkplekken, proberen sommigen de iets leukere, iets minder geestdodende (iets hogere) functies weg te kapen voor hun collega’s, waardoor een negatieve sfeer ontstaat van naar beneden trappen en naar boven likken. Bij de verdeeldheid van mensen aan de onderkant hebben mensen hoger in de hierarchie uiteraard belang.

De vervreemding kan geleidelijk zo toenemen en normaliseren dat mensen hun persoonlijke identiteit verbinden aan een bedrijf waar ze werken. Vooral als hen in zo’n bedrijf een hogere, invloedrijkere, of uitdagender positie gegund is - of tijdelijk lijkt - dan wordt het bedrijf deel van hun identiteit. Ook omdat er zoveel tijd van iemands leven aan besteed moet worden.

Ook deze gevolgen van dat systeem zijn bij veel mensen eigenlijk min of meer bekend. Het bewustzijn is her en der aanwezig, zelfs op dergelijke werkplekken. Zelfs bij hen die meedoen met het systeem: ze weten ervan om ervan te kunnen profiteren.

‘Gewenning aan de afhankelijkheid’ staat hier echter een rebels bewustzijn in de weg. Het bewustzijn is er vaak wel - al dan niet latent – maar daar worden geen rebelse, radicale conclusies aan verbonden. Te ingrijpend, te onzeker. Het komt voor veel mensen inmiddels neer op: alles opgeven wat je kent. Je weet wat je verliest maar niet wat je wint…dat type argumenten. Nogmaals: gewenning aan de afhankelijkheid. De schijnbare rust en zekerheid van de status-quo en van het burgerdom..

ERNST FRIEDRICH SCHUMACHER

Kritiek op dit economische, onmenselijke systeem is er dus ook, en was er al langer. In de jaren 70 waren er alternatieve denkers die anders naar de economie gingen kijken, zochten naar een menselijkere economie, meer in balans met de natuur. Ernst Friedrich Schumacher, geboren in Duitsland, later naar Engeland verhuist, schreef zijn essay-achtig boek ‘Small Is Beautiful’ in 1973 vanuit deze gedachte, en dit boek werd toen een bestseller. Een inspirator voor de “groene” sociale en politieke beweging (tot op de dag van vandaag!), alsmede andere werken van Schumacher. Schumacher streefde – kort gezegd - naar een kleinere, menselijke schaal voor de economie.

Interessant vind ik na te gaan welke argumenten hij daarvoor aan draagt. De kracht van zijn argumentatie.

Ik heb pas een boek van Schumacher gelezen, in het Nederlands vertaald als ‘Hoe kleiner, hoe beter’, wat destijds (1979) wat later verscheen dan ‘Small Is Beautiful’ (postuum: twee jaar na Schumacher’s overlijden in 1977), maar Schumacher behandelt erin hetzelfde thema en draagt erin dezelfde boodschap uit als in zijn eerdere werken: de wenselijkheid van een andere, kleinschalige economie. Het boek is een verzameling teksten en toespraken van Schumacher, die econoom was, gegeven op universiteiten en elders. Ik kreeg er een goed beeld door van Schumacher’s ideeën dienaangaande. En van zijn argumentatie.

HOE KLEINER, HOE BETER

Mij spreekt aan dat Schumacher ook aandacht geeft aan de dagelijkse werkdag van een gemiddeld persoon. Zijn pleidooi voor een kleinere schaal heeft zeker ook een milieu-component, maar “de menselijke geest” is er ook één. Mensen willen volgens hem echt zinvol werk, echt hun persoonlijke talenten kunnen ontplooien: aan iets werken dat bij hen past en waarbij men overziet wat tot stand komt. Waar men meer invloed heeft en echt meetelt. Dit alles verplaatsen naar de schaarse vrije tijd vindt Schumacher, terecht naar mijn idee, immoreel en absurd. Het komt erop neer dat de meeste mensen in de wereld een groot deel van hun tijd - voor sommigen de helft van hun “wakkere” tijd, voor de rest zelfs de meerderheid van die tijd - doen alsof ze robots zijn, en dan echte menselijke ontplooiing of vervulling voor de resterende, vermoeide tijd bewaren. Terecht klaagt Schumacher deze merkwaardige status-quo aan.

Daarnaast analyseert hij vind ik op goede wijze de oorzaken van dat grootschalige systeem, maar meer nog hoe dat in stand gehouden wordt. De historisch koloniale oorsprong van een grootschalige export-economie in ontwikkelingslanden (en eigenlijk wereldwijd) lijkt mij van belang om te beseffen.

Dit sluit verder aan bij het citaat wat ik eerder aanhaalde over deel zijn van andermans (en niet iemands eigen) droom. Sommigen denken hun “eigen droom” een beetje binnen dat grotere systeem “afgesnoept” te hebben – al was het soms ten koste van anderen -, maar dat blijft beperkt en marginaal. Dit “afsnoepen” kan verschillende vormen aannemen: carrière maken – hogerop komen - in een of ander bedrijf, ondernemen en dingen verkopen/bieden die mensen meestal niet eens echt willen, of de criminaliteit, parasiterend op dit systeem, en er dus deel van. Helder beschouwd “verdwaald” overlevingsgedrag, als antwoord op vervreemding.

Schumacher beschrijft verder ook in praktische termen hoe hij die kleinere schaal via een verband van kleine netwerken ook echt in praktijk trachtte te brengen. Dit was onder meer gericht op het maken en leveren van “intermediaire technologie” aan ontwikkelingslanden, en onderontwikkelde gebieden, die de gevorderde, modernste technologie gewoon niet konden betalen. Deze intermediaire technologie werkte echter wel in arme gebieden. Ook dit praktische en technische voorbeeld wist Schumacher inspirerend genoeg over te brengen, als reële mogelijkheid.

Schumacher lijkt nog enigszins gematigd, omdat hij niet pleit voor in een keer een radicale omverwerping van het systeem, maar geleidelijk een alternatieve weg er vandaan wil creëren, eerst met behulp van dat systeem. Dat kan evenwel ook vanuit strategische overwegingen zijn.

Toch pleit Schumacher - uiteindelijk - voor een Derde Weg van kleinschaligheid, niet het grootschalige kapitalisme, en evenmin de even grootschalige planeconomie van het communisme.

Interessant en boeiend opgeschreven, dit werk met de visie van Schumacher. Historisch ook wel leerzaam: echo’s van dit denken hoor ik bijvoorbeeld tegenwoordig terug komen bij een politieke partij als GroenLinks in Nederland, of bij de Duitse Grünen, soms ook met dezelfde terminologie als die Schumacher gebruikte.

Helemaal origineel en nieuw was het echter niet, ook niet in de vroege jaren 70 toen Schumacher zijn boeken begon te publiceren.

Het was niet “nieuw” in de zin dat - toen nog iets meer dan nu – veel mensen in delen van de wereld nog in een kleinschalige economie leefden, zonder doorontwikkeld te zijn naar die grote schaal. De menselijke maat en biologische landbouw waren er van oudsher nog in wat afgelegen, niet-centrale gebieden, hoewel steeds meer aangetast. Meer aangetast, want neokolonialisme, economische globalisering en multinationals rukten op.

Schumacher bouwde deels voort op bestaande - oude, beproefde - ideeën (hij gaf dit ook toe), maar wel aangepast aan de huidige tijd.

RASTAFARI

Zijn ideeën waren echter ook niet nieuw, omdat dezelfde kritiek al langer geuit werd, onder meer als deel van de Rastafari-beweging. De Rastafari-beweging ontstond in de jaren 30 van de 20ste eeuw op Jamaica, en internationaliseerde later, mede door de muziek. Inhoudelijk is het in feite een Afro-centrische Black Power-beweging. Al vroeg ontstond er evenwel onder de eerste Rastafari-groepen een focus op een kleinschalige economie, zelfvoorzienendheid, biologische landbouw, en natuurlijk eten. Al van de 1940s is dat gedocumenteerd op Jamaica: Rasta-gemeenschappen, zelfvoorzienend, in rurale delen. Dit was als antwoord op, of ontwijking van, het aanwezige onderdrukkende systeem (“Babylon”). Dus vóór Schumacher, en – belangrijk – ook als bewust antwoord op/tegenwicht tegen het systeem. Rasta’s waren hiermee dus ook eerder dan sommige hippies (ik bedoel hier die hippies die het om meer dan LSD en seks ging, en die in alternatieve, zelfvoorzienende commune’s gingen leven).

Interessant genoeg komen ook ideeën over het mensbeeld van Schumacher deels overeen met ideeën van Rastafari-aanhangers. In het laatste deel van ‘Hoe kleiner, hoe beter’ ontvouwt Schumacher zijn mensbeeld, dat in zijn geval evangelisch/Christelijk geïnspireerd is (hij beschouwt zichzelf als katholiek), maar breder is getrokken. Hij was ook beïnvloed door het boeddhisme, overigens. Hij ziet de mens als wezens met een goddelijke functie in deze wereld, als goddelijke wezens. Zonen en dochters van God, zegt hij letterlijk. Deze komen volgens hem het beste tot hun recht door zinvol werk, echte controle over het eigen leven, en zelfvoorziening (dus niet als robots). Ook dit zeiden de Rasta’s al eerder - tenminste iets van dezelfde strekking -, namelijk de bij de meeste Rasta’s heersende visie dat het goddelijke in de mens zit (niet apart, in de hemel of zo), wat een duidelijk emancipatoir gevolg heeft: je geeft daarmee zelf richting aan je leven.
Dat goddelijke zit in iedereen dus zorgt daarnaast ook voor connectie en gelijkheid.

Of Schumacher door deze ideeën geïnspireerd is (de Rastafari-beweging was in de jaren 70 ook al wat bekender in Engeland) is echter moeilijk te achterhalen. Het kan toeval zijn.

TERUG NAAR DE CRISIS

De economische crisis sinds 2005 leidde in de Westerse landen niet tot de tegenreactie in de vorm van massale aanhang voor een andere, “kleinschalige” economie. In Duitsland groeide de Grünen als politieke partij wel qua aanhang de laatste tijd, maar die pleiten ook niet voor een radicale omverwerping. In Nederland verkleinde GroenLinks als partij zelfs na de laatste verkiezingen. De meeste politieke leiders zochten manieren om diezelfde economie te behouden en te versterken, en veel burgers leken en lijken daarin mee te gaan.

Er bestaan overigens complottheorieën (van het soort dat nog geloofwaardig lijkt ook) dat die hele economische crisis een verzinsel is van de “powers that be” om hun gewenste “verharding” en “verscherping” – maar uiteindelijk versterking – van dat economische systeem te kunnen bewerkstelligen. De macht dus nog iets meer vergroten van de hogere en bezittende klassen ten opzichte van de massa armeren en van de lagere klassen. Laten zien wie de baas is: afgedwongen bezuinigingen voor sommige landen doen dan ook denken aan het zonder eten naar bed sturen van kinderen, wat sommige ouders als disciplinaire maatregel gebruiken.

NATIONALISME

Er is al langer een reactie op globalisering, de grote schaal – versterkt door de crisis - maar die is toch vooral kritisch over de grote schaal van de politiek. Denk aan de kritiek in Nederland en elders dat steeds meer dingen voor Nederland in Brussel, in EU-verband, beslist worden, de ridicule scepsis – want toch meedoen – in Groot-Brittannië ten opzichte van diezelfde EU, en meer algemeen de kritiek op de EU van (rechtse) nationalistische, populistische politieke partijen in Europa.

In dat licht is een artikel wat ik pas in ’t weekblad De Groene Amsterdammer las wel interessant. Het stond in De Groene van 5 september 2013 en was getiteld ‘Wel grommen, niet bijten : de opkomst van progressief nationalisme’, geschreven door Daniel Boomsma en Thijs Kleinpaste. Het behandelt de opkomst van een “nieuw” nationalisme in Europa, dat positiever zou zijn dan het oude nationalisme, besmet door het nazisme, fascisme, racisme, en massamoord, en dat nu, anno 2013, slechts een soort welbegrepen eigenbelang is geworden, om solidariteit en loyaliteit op nationale schaal overzichtelijker te houden. Als tegenwicht voor globalisering dus.

Als men in dit nieuwe Europese nationalisme ook iets van een menselijke zoektocht naar een kleinere schaal ziet, dan vergist men zich. In datzelfde artikel wordt immers een citaat van de Franse historicus en filosoof Ernest Renan aangehaald, die in zijn lezing ‘Wat is een natie?’, uit 1888, de natie en het bijbehorende nationale bewustzijn doopte tot “solidariteit op heel grote schaal” (letterlijk citaat). Zo begon eigenlijk het grootschalige systeem dus. Dat werd later versterkt, globaler, door het reeds genoemde kolonialisme.

Daarvoor had je stadstaten, en andere geografische eenheden, die zich dan weer samenvoegden tot grotere politieke eenheden. Zo zijn verschillende huidige landen in Europa ontstaan. Al deze politieke eenheden – zelfs bij kleinere landjes – hadden uiteindelijk weinig met de menselijke maat van doen. Er was ook in zulke staatjes duidelijk machtsongelijkheid met een politiek-economische elite die anderen de wil kon opleggen, ook economisch.

Het beschreven type nationalisme in het huidige Europa fungeert als schijnoplossing, als wederom een afleiding van het eigenlijke probleem.

In het artikel in De Groene Amsterdammer wordt terecht ook op de economische grondslag van nationalistische bewegingen gewezen. Vaak wordt nationalisme gepresenteerd als een rebels opkomen voor een eigen culturele identiteit, een eigen volkswil, bruut onderdrukt door een centrale macht. Het Noord-Italiaanse Lega Nord ageert tegen geldafdracht naar de rest van Italië, waaronder het armere zuiden. Beperkte solidariteit, zullen we maar zeggen. Ook het nationalisme in de Spaanse deelstaten Catalonië en Baskenland is grotendeels economisch: deze regio’s behoren tot de welvarendste van Spanje. Catalonië is – zoals het genoemde artikel ook stelt – “netto-betaler aan de rest van het Spaanse koninkrijk, net als de Vlamingen en de inwoners van de Po-delta in respectievelijk België en Italië”. Apelleren aan culturele eigenheid is daarbij deels ook een excuus – vrijwel alle regio’s in die landen hebben een culturele eigenheid - : het is egocentrisch nationalisme.

Het is eigenlijk rijkdom voor jezelf houden in een politiek kader. Hetzelfde egoïsme dat de grootschalige economie uiteindelijk historisch vorm gaf, met alle interne ongelijkheden erbij. Het is als carrière maken in een bedrijf (na “ellebogenwerk” ten koste van anderen), en dat bedrijf dan zelf niet beter maken, maar alleen om zelf comfortabeler te zijn. Dat dit nationalisme vaak mensen “van buiten” uitsluit en tot racisme vervalt (denk aan onder meer Vlaams Belang, en de Lega Nord) hoeft daarbij niet te verbazen. Het gaat immers niet om mensen maar om “belangen”, in een naar mengsel met culturele superioriteitswaan en blut und boden-denken. Dergelijk denken is ook in Nederland breder aanwezig dan sommigen willen geloven, ben ik bang. Ook hier is de menselijke maat zoek, want mensen worden geabstraheerd tot mensen die er wel of niet bij horen, die wel of niet in het grotere plaatje passen.

Een schijnoplossing is dit nationalisme dus, en tegenwoordig ook ingezet als antwoord op de schijndiscussie rond de economische crisis..

The Deejaying T(h)ing : historical overview of vocal techniques

The “Disk Jockey”, or shortened: DJ, Dee Jay, or Deejay, is an important figure in Jamaican music. Yet, the term Deejay has a different meaning in Jamaica than in many other parts of the world. A “Deejay” in the US or Europe got to mean: someone who spins records (by others) for people to hear, while often choosing and interchanging such records. In Jamaica it got to mean: a rhythmic vocalist on an existing song. This chatting in the mic was done at mobile discotheques, called Sound Systems. The “Selector”, in turn, had at such sound systems in Jamaica the function to play and choose records, over which the Deejay as a “vocal entertainer” chatted rhythmically. This was called “Toasting” in reference to the term as in a “toast” before a drink or a dinner, a type of introductory speech.

Indeed early - what were called - Deejays of Jamaican sound systems since soon after World War II, began doing just that: introducing the records that then got spinned. From there it evolved into yells and short intersections during/on the songs themselves, short responses to what the singer sang (like “tell about it!”, “tell dem”, “lord have mercy”, or “wow”), and eventually gradually into longer, “fuller” deejays “toasting”, chatting rhythmically over a whole length of an existing song.
This was sometimes partly with chanting, alongside rhythmic chatting/toasting. This is the deeper origin of what would become later “Rap” (originally influenced by Jamaican migrants in New York) in the 1980s. It was going on at Jamaican sound systems since at least the 1950s..

In this post I choose to focus on one specific aspect of the “deejay t(h)ing”: the vocal techniques and styles of the deejays in the Jamaican sense: the toasting/chatting itself, done when the microphone was in front of their mouth. How did these vocal techniques/styles develop in relation to developments at the dancehall (i.e. to distinguish oneself in style from other deejays), in the reggae scene and industry, and to cultural or even social changes?

EARLY STAGES

What’s interesting about the deejaying is the organic development of this vocal practice, quite unique to Jamaica. It started at sound systems: for a live audience that showed appreciation (or not), in interaction with this audience. It also began as very improvisational. The Deejay (from now on I mean deejay in the Jamaican sense of the word of vocalist) in the early period did not know on forehand what song the Selector would play. He had to improvise lyrics spontaneously, “on the fly”, over this song. In the first years this was over vocal songs (during breaks for instance), but with the rise within Jamaican music of instrumentals or “versions” (later called Dubs) since the 1960s, over instrumental versions of (popular) songs. This practice also influenced the development of “freestyling” in later hip-hop.

These deejays or toasters in Jamaica were connected with specific Sound Systems, owned by specific people. They travelled throughout Kingston and Jamaica. This way they could gain popularity among audiences. In a later stage, these deejays found their way to recordings, and could record such “toasting” songs in studios, for sale on the market, apart from sound systems. “Fixed” in studios you might say.

Photo: early, pioneering toaster King Stitt performing at the Garance reggae festival in France, July 2011

Early “deejays” generally only talked or chatted over parts of songs (not over the entire length of them) in that stage, including the early toasters Count Machuki and King Stitt. These did not record their vocal interjections yet: it was improvised, and only aimed at the crowds in the dancehalls present at the time. Many doubted that serious songs could be made of this. Yet little by little such recordings were made: Ska-ing West by Sir Lord Comic, recorded in 1966, with the singer talking partly over a ska record, was probably the first “toasting/deejay” song recorded on disk.

ORIGINATOR

In a later stage, close to 1970, U-Roy really helped develop the toasting/deejaying genre. U-Roy’s important contribution was the spreading of his vocals and lyrics over an entire song, interacting with the music and vocals of original songs - local hits mostly - by other artists, resulting in time in recordings that were aimed at studio recording, rather than – as before – a sound system practice that happened to be recorded in the studio as an exception. U-Roy’s toast songs - both from the year 1970 - ‘Wake The Town’ (over the rocksteady riddim of Alton Ellis’s song ‘Girl I’ve Got A Date’) and ‘Wear You To The Ball’ (over a Paragons slow ska song of that name), pioneered the deejay as full-fledged vocalist. That’s why U-Roy is called “the Originator”.

This full-fledged toasting continued over early reggae and roots reggae songs until later years of the 1970s. Then, Rastafari-inspired lyrics came also from these deejays, contributing to what can be called “dread” sounding deejays like Prince Fari and others. I above discussed the period from the developing Jamaican music industry from about 1945 to the 1970s. From imported R&B records played in Jamaica by sound systems (with deejays introducing them) to the own, distinct music genres that developed in Jamaica since the late 1950s: ska, and in the 1960s rocksteady, and later in the 1960s reggae.

The example of the early songs by U-Roy (both rocksteady and ska) shows that genre changes did not correspond directly to differing vocal techniques in the broad sense. The deejay had to “ride the riddim” vocally adequately and engagingly to please an audience or a public. Whatever riddim or genre. First often foreign genres, later (since the 1960s) mainly Jamaican genres.

RECORDED

Vocal styles/techniques changed more directly, though, when toasters were recorded. The very “fixing” on record, and conventional musical timing of songs, limited the too free-flowing, improvisational style of earlier deejays at interactive sound systems. The word says it: recording is “fixing”: 4/4 timing had to be considered more thoroughly for example. That deejaying got recorded aimed to make records to sell – and not going to a sound system phase first – meant a change in vocal technique. The deejaying vocals had to be, simply put, “tighter” regarding musical timing. More structured as well. In the sound system, freer, improvisational deejaying was still done, of course, interacting with audience response.

Still: structured or not, or even recorded or not: one underlying skill had to be there when vocalizing over records. As self-evident as it is crucial: the deejaying/toasting vocalist had to have a good sense of rhythm, had to “feel the song”, and use his vocals right to entertain the crowd enough. That deejay should vary enough to keep attention: partly “chatting” /toasting, partly chanting or even singing, catch-phrases, voice effects, distinct yells or screams…all meant to show rhythmical and vocal entertaining skills. That is where specific talent should show.

In the Jamaican musical culture, furthermore, the sound systems played what people wanted to hear or were hoping to hear, much more than the mainstream, elite radio stations. The deejay thus had to test this skill or talent also in direct interaction with an audience: on the streets. At the very popular base of musical appreciation. The way it should be, I think.

A far cry of what would develop in Western pop cultures of the US and Europe: big corporations or slick businessmen manipulating (or at least misdirecting) musical public tastes from the top-down: think MTV, commercial pop etc. In Jamaica this order is the other way around. People on the streets liked it, therefore someone got popular and recorded in studios.

ROOTS REGGAE

Roots reggae came at a high point in the course of the 1970s after an early, faster reggae phase. The Rastafari influence increased protest lyrics, spirituality, social critique, as well as in a sense a mystique, what is called a “dreader” sound (linguistically a beautiful reggae term, I think: “dreader”). The lyrics of deejays – when Rastafari-inspired – obviously changed to Rasta social and spiritual (called “cultural”) themes – also those of early pioneers like U-Roy. Also a “wailing” or “thunderous” quality in vocal technique came more to the fore, befitting such lyrics. This was often also an adaption to the “dreader” and slower original Roots Reggae songs (more “minor-chord”) that were now often toasted on.

Prince Jazzbo was one who used a gruff, slightly wailing voice accompanying such lyrics. Although he had more or less this gruff voice with his debut singles as well, which were just about dancing and partying. Some reggae books call Prince Jazzbo for this reason an early predecessor of more recent current gruff-voiced deejays like Buju Banton, Capleton, Bounty Killer, or partly Sizzla. Jah Lloyd/Jah Lion had a less-gruff, sharper, but in another way also “dread” toasting style.

Prince Fari had a “voice of thunder” (also the name of one of his albums) befitting his Rastafari lyrics, that he used in his best songs with rhythmical skill and variety: even if he at times seemed to just talk over a riddim: there was still more to it. I Roy also toasted in such a “dread” vein, as did Big Youth: one of the early deejays in expressing Rastafari lyrics. Some deejays/artists – especially closer to the 1980s - had a somewhat intermediate position: combining a Rastafari with a general “dancehall party” vibe, like Dillinger, Ranking Dread, or Trinity, though still with Rasta references.

Both lyrically and musically/technically, the heyday of Rastafari-inspired Roots Reggae certainly had its impact on deejaying.

1980s

The 1980s consisted of a transitional period. Regarding reggae in general, and specifically in the “deejay ting”. There were broader musical changes accompanying this. The rise of digital riddims, with the Casio-based ‘Sleng Teng Riddim’going back to 1984 having a pioneering role. In this post, though, I focus on vocal techniques. A most notable practical change in the course of the 1980s among deejays consisted of the move to “on the beat” chatting.

ON THE BEAT

Early recording deejays like U-Roy, Big Youth, Dennis Alcapone, and I-Roy had to be as said somewhat “tighter” and structured in the studios when compared to the – looser - live sound system setting they started in. Nonetheless their “meandering” vocal style was still free and loose in some senses, also on record. It was rhythmic, of course – else it would not appeal - , but a bit more indirect: more AROUND the beat, rather than on it. This changed around the year 1980 in Jamaican deejaying. One influential artist/deejay influencing this change cannot go unmentioned: Lone Ranger.

Lone Ranger was a deejay of the second or third generation, you might say, who to be distinct (a necessity in the competitive Jamaican music/dancehall scene) innovated by toasting ON the beat, rather than meandering around it, like others did before. It created a nice, catchy flow that appealed to audiences. He had several hits in Jamaica, such as the catchy ‘Love Bump’ in 1981, on the music of an older Slim Smith tune (‘Rougher Yet’) at Studio One. This On The Beat toasting would signify a lasting change, continued by other 1980s toasters and by following generations of the 1990s and beyond: Admiral Bailey, Charlie Chaplin, Brigadier Jerry, Josey Wales, and Yellowman. Along with the mentioned rise of digital riddims, this would help shape the Dancehall subgenre within reggae.

Barrington Levy was one who helped “bring singing back” in the dancehall, and more singers (rather than deejay-ers/toasters) were active in reggae and popular, but many toasting/chatting deejays also rose to popularity. The term “Chatting” instead of Toasting probably relates to the new ON the beat vocal style of these next-generation deejays.

I personally have mixed feelings about this latter deejay phase. Too much slackness-lyrics (though not all) is one point of critique I have, but strictly musically I found it was in worst cases also to simple and monotonous. I overall was more into the old 1970s style of deejaying of U-Roy, Jah Lion and the likes. I enjoyed it overall more, though I did like some later 1980s deejay songs as well. Maybe it has to do what I first encountered, e.g.: my path, or with my age. I appreciate some later (1990s and later) and current chatters too, by the way, so my taste is not limited time-wise.

POST-1980s

Dancehall continued, and there came a later generation of deejays. This can be considered the third or fourth generation of deejays (who chatted rather than sung). It coincided with a “return to Rastafari messages” - though it was never totally absent within reggae – in the 1990s, and was led by Rastafari-adherent artistes/deejays, belonging mainly to the Bobo Ashanti branch within Rastafari. Sizzla, Capleton, Lutan Fyah, Anthony B, Jah Mason are artists that played crucial roles in this type of deejaying. Most of these started in the later 1980s, and some of them started out lyrically in a less-conscious vein.

Did these Bobo Ashanti/Rastafari-deejays introduce new chatting/vocal techniques and styles? Interesting question. It is hard to say, but I think they did a little, though each artist often has an own, distinct, very personal vocal style. As I said: in the competitive Jamaican dancehall one had to distinguish oneself as an artist.

On the one side: these Bobo Deejays like Sizzla and Capleton continued in a general sense the ON the beat chatting technique started in the 1980s, more than the meandering, early Toasting style characteristic of the 1970s. This latter “meandering” is not totally absent though: especially in some songs by Sizzla, as well as artists like Lutan Fyah, Junior Kelly and some others, you do find at times a looser chatting style. In addition, the deejaying of these artists includes singing (or: chanting) parts, typical of what became known as the Sing-Jay (singing and deejaying) style.

SING-JAY

The sing-jay tradition is older than these Bobo-deejays. As I said: early deejays as I-Roy, U-Roy, Dennis Alcapone, and Big Youth included chanting/singing parts to alternate the rhythmic toasting. Yet, a more structured combination - generally with the verses chatted rhythmically and the choruses sung - developed later. Singer, later turned deejay and sing-jay Michael Rose (of Black Uhuru fame) was one of the pioneers of this. Before him deejay duets like Michigan & Smiley had this structure (toasted verse, sang or chanted chorus) as well.

Current artists like Sizzla, Lutan Fyah, Jah Mason, Turbulence, Louie Culture, and several others can be mostly called Sing-jays, rather than just chatting deejays. It became so common in the course of the 1990s that reggae reviewer Mark H. Harris on his website (no longer updated, but still online at www.reggae-reviews.com) jokingly remarked about an artist between commas that “…is a new sing-jay…(but who isn’t nowadays)”. It became that common by the early 2000s in Jamaican music.

Besides this there were still singers continuing, and also new singers arrived on the scene (Luciano, Bushman, Chezidek, Richie Spice, Tarrus Riley a.o.), and on the other hand those who chatted rhythmically mainly. Yet, overall, now singing qualities could/can be judged also of deejays, besides their rhythmic flow. I find Lutan Fyah a good singer and a good chatter, for instance. Also Turbulence, Fantan Mojah, and for instance Junior Kelly are okay singers. Some find Sizzla’s singing annoying or even bad, though I find it in instances appealing. Others find the singing of, e.g., Anthony B not very special, though not bad per se. “White men” Gentleman and Alborosie have mixed results, in my opinion, and are too often mediocre in my opinion, in both their chatting and singing attempts (with a few good exceptions among their songs). Queen Ifrica, on the other hand, and newer talents like Chronixx, can I think both chat and sing very well. Also some of Marley’s sons (Damian and Kymani for instance) show talent in this regard. But all that is a matter of opinion or taste.

In any case, the balance of combining good chatting and good singing remains an interesting artistic challenge to follow within current Jamaican music. Also, the broad (grey?) terrain between singing and rhythmic deejaying enabled several artists to make a very specific mark, and hard to “classify”. Many are “sing-jay like” but not quite, more singers than deejays or vice versa.

Understandably in light of (required and desired) musical creativity: strictly rhythmical vocalizing and strictly singing could not long remain fully separate domains. Sing-jaying became another original Jamaican contribution to world-wide music, later to be copied in hip-hop, R&B, and other genres. Just like deejaying before it had influences beyond Jamaica..

INFLUENCES

The organic development sketched above was shaped of course by interrelation: action-reaction, as so much of human behaviour. Jamaica knows several highly individualistic musical artists, going a different way of their own. This often influences other people, going in a similar direction. This is also the case with vocal techniques of deejays. Most of them would admit this openly, by the way. U Brown and I Roy derived not only their artist name from U Roy, but partly copied his style. As did Dillinger, who admitted to at first simply copy older deejays like U Roy and Dennis Alcapone. I already mentioned the ON THE BEAT innovation by Lone Ranger.

The very early toasters like Count Machuki and King Stitt, as well as U Roy and others, were partly influenced by Black US radio presenters talking “jive” and speaking “Ebonics”, using specific terms to introduce records, as heard on US radio stations that reached Jamaica. Soon after Jamaican deejays would influence other, later Jamaican deejays.

GRUFF LINE

U-Roy was as said influential, but the “gruff” case is also interesting. Prince Jazzbo has recently (11th of September 2013) deceased as I write this. He was one of several deejays becoming popular in the 1970s, but like others had to find his distinctive mark, his own style. Whether sought, or just naturally there, he had a somewhat “gruff”, wailing voice, that several reggae historians see as early precursor to the style of Buju Banton and comparable later deejays.

Photo: Prince Jazzbo performing at the Garance reggae festival in France, July 2011

Earlier deejays than Buju Banton had this of course as well: Prince Fari a bit (though perhaps more “thunderous” than gruff), or Big Youth. An apprentice of U Roy (at the same Stur Gav sound system as U Roy), namely Josey Wales, rising in the early 1980s, also had a gruff voice.

A bit later in the 1980s, a deejay called Burro Banton, who is known as “the original Banton” distinguished himself with a very gruff, aggressive style. Buju Banton said he was influenced by Burro Banton, reason why he also took the name Banton. So there’s an interesting “gruff” line of vocal influence from Prince Jazzbo in the 1970s, passing through Josey Wales, Burro Banton in the 1980s, to Buju Banton or other gruff-souding artists (Mega Banton, Terror Fabulous, or Alborosie and Bounty Killer) in recent times. Burro (Banton) still took the “gruff” in his voice the furthest though.

This gruff voice is an acquired taste, even among some dancehall fans, but I think it really gives a nice energy to songs – especially “inna di dance”, and when the chatting/toasting is done well rhythmically. Buju Banton has I find a very good flow. In fact, Burro Banton and other gruff-voiced deejays were very popular at the dancehall before recording.

I-Roy was known as one of the more intelligent deejays lyrically. I-Roy was vocally influenced by U-Roy, and sounds according to many similar, but he still had a distinct vocal technique of his own, characterized by a sort of (natural) “reverb”, that sounds a bit like one is in a tunnel. I have not read yet about this having influence, although I think I Roy might have influenced several deejays at the time. Or later: current artist Busy Signal (also more or less a sing-jay) has this “reverb”. Also a bit artists like Mavado or Vybz Kartel. Of course this can also be coincidence.

While Josey Wales and also Charlie Chaplin toasted at the same sound system as U Roy (Stur Gav), they were active since the early 1980s, in a later stage, when the “on the beat” chatting had come into vogue: that’s why Josey Wales and Charlie Chaplin still sounded different (“updated”) than their older mentor U Roy, though having still similarities with him. They (Wales and Chaplin) chose “cultural”/conscious/Rasta lyrics over slackness lyrics, unlike many of their contemporaries by the 1980s. The specific vocal technique of 1980s deejays, e.g. Charlie Chaplin and General Echo, often had similarities (on the beat chatting), but their lyrics differed: General Echo focussed on slack and sexual lyrics, with song titles such as ‘Bathroom Sex’.

The same is the case, of course, with present-day deejays with similar chatting styles/techniques, yet different lyrics.

PERCUSSION

I finally focus on one less obvious aspect about deejay vocalizing or “riding the riddim”. I myself am active in percussion, especially playing bongos, for a few years now. I learned some standard Afro-Cuban/African and other patterns (son, “martillo”, conga, nyabinghi, samba a.o.), but also enjoy improvising on reggae riddims. This improvizing is rhythmical and therefore similar to freestyle toasting. I recognize that similarity. Also the vocal meandering of artists like U Roy, I Roy, and Big Youth was after all rhythmic, varied but rhythmic. On the bongos you likewise make quasi-melodic patterns on a rhythmic base, interchanging these. This is especially possible when you have several drums tuned different or of different size. A varied rhythmic (“talking drum”) improvizing, just like I Roy and the others do/did vocally. Interesting parallel!

It is however also self-evident, since toasting/deejaying is, like percussion, “riddim pon de riddim”. I even suppose that some of the deejays consciously use drum patterns in vocalizing.

The Jamaican variant of toasting/chatting is, like Wikipedia also states, relatively more melodic and varied than most of what would become US “rapping”. Therefore Jamaican toasting and chatting overall approaches even more the varied drum and percussion patterns.

CONCLUSION

According to many, there was a general downward trend in Jamaican music regarding quality, since the 1980s. The re-use of riddims took often precedence over original riddims, which many found less original. The deejay dominance was furthermore accompanied by a change in lyrical content (albeit with much exceptions). The emphasis in lyrics came on partying, but also on boasting and slackness (violence and sex). I also find that less intelligent and negative lyrics became too common, although I found some joking (not too negative) lyrics on sex or otherwise at times funny and entertaining, if they were not violent or degrading.

The re-use of riddims is strictly speaking also less original, but can be explained by economic reasons: lacking funds for studio time to create new riddims, therefore reusing old (Studio One, or other) riddims.

Still, despite these flaws, I also find that the “deejay ting” has its merit and can be considered creative and artistic. The need for vocal creativity, in chatting/timing/ rhyming and entertaining, for deejays was certainly there, also needed more to be distinct from others on the same riddim/instrumental. This led to more or less original art. Even traditional drum patterns seemed revived, like I said, masqueraded as rhythmic vocals, along with heritages of rhythmic vocals from African music historically..

Moreover, deejaying made/makes evident the positive, healthy aspect of the Jamaican music scene: deejays - as well as more via studios singers and instrumentalists - gain popularity “on the streets”, among the common people in the ghettos and elsewhere, through sound systems at dancehalls. Popularity from the bottom up. After this came recording or specific live shows (often with live bands) at international concert halls. Popularity is in this case no “big corporation” taste manipulation from the top down, but truly popular, democratic and organic. This makes it more real..

The biography of Peter Tosh

The biography of Peter Tosh has been long awaited in more than one sense. In the general sense that Tosh simply deserves a biography as an important reggae icon, being in fact long overdue when compared to the several biographies already appeared over the last decades on (fellow-Wailer) Bob Marley. Not even Peter Tosh’s sudden and shocking death in 1987 seemed to have occasioned a biography on him at the time. It was not until much later that British journalist John Masouri announced that he would write a biography on Tosh, initially scheduled to appear in 2011. There comes the long-awaited in another sense: this date was postponed, and eventually the biography, written by John Masouri, would appear under the title ‘The life of Peter Tosh : Steppin’ Razor’, in 2013.

WRITING THE OUTER AND THE INNER

You guessed it: in this post I will review this biography, placing it in a broader perspective. The work was with its 486 pages quite voluminous. Yet it was a good and pleasant read, from the beginning. Masouri knows how to write engagingly, which can of course be expected from a long-time experienced professional writer and journalist. I find, however, that there are different layers of good writing. In my experience some biography writers have a more personal, opinionated style, while others take a more detached, almost neutral stance. Some seem better in eliciting images, landscapes, and scenes, while others are better in describing psychological processes.

The author of the biography on James Brown, which I also reviewed on this blog (see post of October 2012), R.J. Smith, seemed in my opinion much better in describing internal psychology (in this case of James Brown) than outer scenes, landscapes or cityscapes etc. David Katz had a better balance in his biography on Lee "Scratch" Perry, called 'People Funny Boy' (see my review on this blog of August 2012). Colin Grant wrote the biography on Marcus Garvey ‘Negro With A Hat : the Rise and Fall of Marcus Garvey’ (2008) as well as the 2011 work on all the three Wailers in their interrelation ‘I & I : the Natural Mystics: Marley, Tosh, and Wailer’ (also reviewed on this blog by me, see post of May 2011). Grant combines several of these writing qualities, I think: both the outer and inner processes were described engagingly by him.

Masouri combines qualities as well, but less balanced in my opinion: he is apt in eliciting physical images, city-and landscapes, atmospheres, views of e.g. Kingston, Jamaica, or wherever Tosh went on tour, such as the US, Europe, and Africa. Yet he also pays attention to internal psychology. He has the latter quality to a degree, but I think Masouri is somewhat better in describing physical scenes, or ”situations”, than the deeper layers of Tosh’s psychology. He tries to unearth these deeper layers of Tosh’s personality, including through anecdotes, but stays a bit too superficial in this regard. Colin Grant achieved this better, I think, in his biography on Garvey. Masouri refers to how Tosh’s life experiences shaped his personality, but bases this on what Tosh said himself, of course, and on what others say about Tosh. This is fair enough, but besides people really closer to him, he also includes many people who had a shorter, more superficial or distant (working) relationship with him, saying not much more than how he “came across”. This is often part of anecdotes. This can be interesting still, goes even a bit deeper at times in the book, but never really too deep. Here and there in the book he tries to delve deeper in Tosh’s psyche, though: but with varying degrees of success.

PERSONALITY

Chronologically the biography departs from – obviously – Tosh’s life story since his youth in rural western Jamaica. Though somewhat broadly sketched, you get an idea of the environment he grew up in. Also broadly sketched his entrance in Kingston’s music scene is related, though it is very engagingly written. The biography then becomes a page-turner (in the good sense). The interaction with Bob Marley and Bunny Wailer when forming the Wailers is interesting reading, but seems to provide for Masouri also a way to emphasize Tosh’s character traits, when compared to Bob and Bunny. Uncompromising and rebellious as a proud black man knowing his rights (different in this from the somewhat more compromising and “malleable” Marley, according to several people), Tosh could be displeased and angry on occasion, but also was often described as good-humoured, full of jokes, charming, and attentive (different from Bunny Wailer, of whom some said that "he seemed angry all the time”). Tosh was also said to be funny, and often joking. This personality formation of a rebellious pro-black stance, fighting against Babylon oppression and (related of course) his staunch Rastafari views, combined with an often charming, attentive and humorous disposition, is of course not necessarily contradictory. This despite the simplistic archetype existing among some of the “angry black man”. Even with some white people he went along well, though he was openly critical of some white people he (had to) work with, when he felt wronged by them.

This is in line with the “combined biography” I reviewed earlier on this blog: ‘I & I : the Natural Mystics: Marley, Tosh, & Wailer’ (2011), by Colin Grant. Interestingly, Grant sees the three Wailers as somehow representative of three main types of Black attitudes in a white-dominated world (or: “Babylon”): Marley represents “adaptation” to it, Bunny Wailer “retreat” from it, and Tosh “rebellion” against it. Of these three original Wailers, this biography thus focuses more extensively on one of these, the said to be most “rebelling” and uncompromising one Peter Tosh, among other things through many anecdotes and life episodes. These stories in a sense confirm his rebelliousness, but of course not one-dimensionally. Aspects of adaptation or retreat are also to be found.

ROLLING STONES

A large portion of the book describes how Tosh joined the label of the Rolling Stones, also as a way to reach the international market. This part is also entertaining, though here and there a bit too much about the Rolling Stones (it’s not their biography), and some other white rock acts. Perhaps predictable, the in essence patronizing idea of settled white rock artists helping Tosh to cross over, “giving him a break”, so to speak, would spark Tosh’s irritation, though seemingly he bottled this up until later. While perhaps helpful, the patronizing aspect of this became in a funny way clear in an anecdote Masouri relates. A club in New York, apparently owned by a local reggae lover, invited many Jamaican reggae artists, while also the Rolling Stones and other rock acts with a love for reggae would visit regularly. When the Jamaican reggae band Culture, with Joseph Hill, was performing, two members of the Rolling Stones (not Mick Jagger though, who wasn’t there) went on stage – out of respect – to join them in the roots reggae vibe. Culture did not know who they – even if famous the world over – were and therefore - shocked - stopped playing and singing, only later to find out who these white men were.. I found this anecdote both funny and illustrative..

Later the conflicts between Rolling Stones members and Tosh increased, due in part to pride – or a sense of justice – of Tosh, continuously finding himself to be small-changed financially in dealing with big record companies, even if he specifically joined the (artist-led) Rolling Stones label to avoid this.

LATER CAREER : GATHERING MOSS

The biography continues then in the period after Tosh left the Rolling Stones label (and worked for big labels like EMI), and went further on his own with a changing Jamaican band accompanying him: first Sly and Robbie, and later the Soul Syndicate, including drummer Santa Davis. The interaction with the band provides further interesting reading. Masouri pays much attention to the tours he went on with this band, trying to reach large international audiences in the US, Europe, and Africa. The trips to Africa (Swaziland, Nigeria, and other places) had a special spiritual meaning for him, as can be expected for Tosh as a black Rastafari-adherent, who furthermore also as a hobby read much about Africa and its history, as related in the book.

Interactions with other music groups and artists continued, even with white artists, some with more commercial success than others.

The reception and quality of these concerts, and also of Tosh’s albums and songs, constitute another large part of the biography. Masouri, somewhat odd, gives his opinion on the concerts and the albums, though luckily in a moderate sense. Even if in some instances I agreed with Masouri (we both liked Tosh’s song ‘Feel No Way’ from the Mama Africa album apparently), I opine that biographers should be careful to give artistic opinions, due to the confusing pitfalls associated with subjectivity, hindering the required distance of a biographer. But, as said, he does this moderately. In describing Tosh’s concerts, Masouri shows how he is apt at describing vividly and evocatively the atmosphere and ambience during these concerts, on stage, as well as in and around the different concert venues.

Masouri further relates how Tosh reached success among some groups, though not always among whom he wanted: like Marley, Tosh lamented the fact that among his US fans were relatively few Black Americans, but much more a growing group white liberal (often marijuana-loving) kids. All in all, he had less commercial success than Bob Marley, as many of course know. Although some presented him as the next Bob Marley.

BAD PRESS

The critical British press on him is another interesting theme, and justly Masouri is critical about the arrogance in some British press pieces vilifying Tosh as inadequate or even fake. Masouri’s citing of these press reviews makes evident the both self-assured as denigrating tone this British press critique could have regarding Tosh. Apparently these critics saw themselves as arbiters of good taste. This is already elitist and condescending, but in this case they claim to be judges on music from another culture than their own (which they only claim to understand), while comparing with other reggae icons (of course Bob Marley)..

I guess bad reviews are part of being a famous artist, but too often such critiques are a mix of self-interest, too much believe in one’s own prejudices, in turn stemming from a sense of superiority of these critics, not seldom with a racist origin. A type of neo-colonialist attitude that dresses itself as ”hip”.

Two main problems that keep confronting - and hindering - the reggae industry come to the fore in this biography on Tosh: the first one is, as just discussed, non-Jamaicans and whites determining what reggae should be like and/or should reach the mainstream. The second one is the continuous, inappropriate comparison with Bob Marley. Both these aspects have racist overtones. At the very least both are depreciative.

It is almost painful to read how Tosh tried to circumvent these hindrances of reggae’s molested image while trying to keep his dignity. He even seems to compromise at times to these Western ideas to develop and broaden his career. It is a revealing aspect of this biography.

ANECDOTES AND MORE

This biography consists of quite a few anecdotes, and can be even called “anecdotic” to a degree (like many biographies). The anecdotes are combined with historical facts/backgrounds, interviews, concert and album descriptions (as I mentioned), opinions/evaluations, and - not unimportant - life events described broader and longer than often shorter and less serious anecdotes. These life events getting more detailed attention, includes the time when Tosh was in Jamaica beaten and abused by the police at the station, probably in retaliation for a critical speech against authorities he held at a concert in Jamaica not long before. Tosh was in fact beaten severely by several policemen, and maintained damage (recurring headaches for instance) from them long after. Similarly traumatic - and grim - is also the story of the armed robbery and murders in his own house, leading to Tosh’s death (and the surrounding events) in 1987.

On a lighter, more funny note are then the several anecdotes which say something about Tosh’s personality and sense of humour. Inevitably, several “marijuana-smoking” anecdotes can be found in this biography, but also other ones. They also show how Tosh could be attentive and considerate – especially some women he worked said they experienced this –, but also at times a bit impolite or rigid in his beliefs. When he worked with British-based reggae artist Dennis Bovell, for instance, who first wore dreadlocks, he at a later time refused to meet and talk to him after Bovell cut these dreadlocks. Tosh later said to Bovell that he never should have cut his locks. A different, but also interesting anecdote relate to the California band the Grateful Dead, led by Jerry Garcia, who wanted to meet Tosh, who, however, had objections against the band name and said, when he had the band on the phone, that they instead should be grateful to be alive.

PERSONAL LIFE AND DEATH

His personal life gets more attention in the latter part of the book. His friends and musicians he worked with criticized the too strong hold his new partner Marlene had on him, becoming his manager without - according to some – proper skills, and further estranging his long-time friends from him, and having a general bad influence on him. Some even suppose she used “obeah” (Vodou-like) magic to control him and continue her evil ways. A woman standing between her man and his earlier friends is a story I’ve heard before – even in my own life and circle - , and whether all these accusations against Marlene were actually true is hard to ascertain. Some who criticized her were spiteful, probably, or maybe she actually dominated him too much. It is difficult to know for sure.

Then the drama increases in intensity as the biography comes close to how Tosh died. He was shot to death in his own house in Barbican, uptown Kingston, when he and his partner Marlene were in there with a few friends, including other musicians. An old acquaintance from Trench Town – in fact living as a criminal and/or parasite (asking for instance musicians he knew for money) –, named Dennis Lobban, entered Tosh’s house with a few friends and demanded money at gunpoint. While asking where the money was, they hit the people present, threatened them, and shot their guns several times. The main perpetrator – Dennis Lobban – had criminal priors. The gunshot at Peter Tosh proved fatal, as for others, such as dee-jay Free I, who also died. Others, such as drummer Santa Davis and Marlene were also shot but survived the ordeal. This took place on the 11th of September of 1987 (another “9/11” indeed). The day Peter Tosh died. He was only 42.

A tragic, dramatic end of the life of a sincere, talented musical artist who only wanted to “free Jah people”, strived to righteousness, but got caught up by the wickedness around him.. This is no sanctifying of Tosh on my part, but a balance of his life’s reality, based partly on this biography. He was not perfect – like no one is – and was for instance sometimes irresponsible, hot-tempered, stubborn, impolite, or temporarily vindictive, but that was it. So the Biblical phrase ”the wages of sin is death” – that ironically many reggae artist repeat in lyrics (including in other words Tosh as well) - does simply not apply.

CONCLUSION

Overall, I found this biography insightful and enjoyable. It would be better in my opinion if it stopped after relating this death in 1987, or perhaps his funeral. This because the last episode on his legacy, was for me not necessary and even disturbing. Readers can summarize his significance for reggae and his unique talent for themselves after having read the rest of the book. That renders it somewhat superfluous, even if some interesting comments can also be read in this last chapter.

What’s much worse is that Tosh is devalued in this last part by a comparison with - again - Marley, seeking to explain why Marley was more popular, crossed over more to broader audiences. This related according to a Paul Khouri to the fact that while Tosh was more revolutionary, Marley had (he thought) better lyrics, and lacked prejudice in approaching his art. Khouri called him also a better “storyteller” than Tosh.

I am not sure what “prejudice” Tosh had supposedly more than Marley. Because Marley was half-white he trusted white people more? Maybe, but this biography relates how Tosh had worked with white people and often amicably (though not always). Because Tosh had a more rebellious, militant pro-black stance? Against injustice you can never be too militant, I would say. He was pro-black and pro-humanity, not anti-white to be anti-white. To add insult to injury, the same commentator, Paul Khouri, said Tosh’s lyrics lesser mass appeal related to Tosh’s lacking sensitivity in this regard. Khouri believes therefore that Tosh’s lesser mass appeal than Marley’s “had more to do with Tosh’s music than any lack of corporate push”. I do beg to differ..

I think Khouri is also mistaken in his evaluation because some of Tosh’s lyrics in fact do tell more or less a “story” (‘Stand Firm’, ‘Pick Myself Up’, ‘Peace Treaty’, 'Maga Dog' a.o.), but maybe it is true that Tosh tells less stories in his lyrics than Marley, having instead “structured messages” in them. Such lyrics can be interesting as well, only in a different way. Tosh could, I find, evoke images with his lyrics (‘Downpressor Man’ being an example), which is a type of story-telling, you might say. Also daily life was quite prominent in Tosh’s lyrics, while relatively less Biblical references (compared to other Rasta artists, like Marley), which might well relate to his stronger anti-Christian feelings. Despite his slightly “thunderous” voice (though much less than a vocalist like Prince Fari), Tosh also could convey sensitivity in his lyrics and songs. So, I do not agree with this critique of Khouri and some others.

Masouri wrote a good biography, but showed in my opinion bad judgement when he reserved this critique to the end, giving the idea that it is a final evaluation (maybe unintended, but still..). Added to the inherent nonsense of comparing what need not be compared: Marley and Tosh were both interesting artists - musically and lyrically - in their own rights. Not the one “better” than the other. Only the mentioned “corporate push” made some believe that.

A missed opportunity, I opine, in this last chapter - note: named ‘Legacy’ - is furthermore that Masouri did not really pay much attention to how Peter Tosh’s music influenced later Jamaican artists. Bushman (who made a tribute album with Tosh covers) is mentioned in this biography, but also other Tosh-influenced artists/singers could have been mentioned, including outside of Jamaica, notably Lucky Dube. Also that Tosh’s late-1970s songs ‘Downpressor Man’ and ‘Equal Rights’ - both lyrically showing his militant side - were relatively oft-covered later by other reggae artists is an interesting fact that could have been mentioned.

So, apart from these and other flaws – the main one being that it could have (if possible) delved deeper in Tosh’s psyche - I can recommend this well-written, informative, entertaining, and overall insightful biography, even to those who know already some things about Peter Tosh and his life.

The Life of Peter Tosh : Steppin' Razor: John Masouri. – 486 p. - London : Omnibus Press, 2013. ISBN: 978-18477-2836-4