Snoop and Rastafari

The bond between black Americans and Jamaicans is obvious on the one side, but complex one the other. The basis of the connection is obvious: shared histories of slavery, race/ethnic similarities (African origins), and degrees of African cultural heritage. Added to this can of course be the racial oppression and discrimination following the period of slavery. Whereas African descendants in the USA form a minority in the US as a whole, albeit a large one in some parts of the South, Afro-Jamaicans of course form a large majority in their country, which did not prevent racial injustice to persist: a white, or just a lighter/mixed skin colour overall still equals a higher social and economic position within Jamaica.

The language also plays a role. Haiti has a black population, as does in part Cuba and (farther away) e.g. Brazil, yet a language barrier certainly is operative here. The cultural focus of Jamaicans is much more on the US than on Latin America. More specifically the focus is on black Americans, sometimes called “brothers” or “cousins” by Jamaicans, and their culture and music. Historically, Jamaican music genres are partly influenced by US black genres in their formation – ska was partly influenced by R&B from the US South -, and today there are still US black musical influences in Jamaica, even though the island prides itself (justly) of an own, rich musical tradition. The connections thus remain. I have touched this topic on my blog before.

OWN CULTURE

I happened to be in Jamaica at the time of the winning of the elections of the first black president of the US, the 4th of November 2008. This was certainly followed closely in Jamaica. Mass media and even more the internet made access to black American culture even more accessible to common Jamaicans in recent times. A too strong US cultural influence as arguably can be found in several countries in the world is somewhat “mitigated” in Jamaica – despite its relative proximity – by the strong pride Jamaicans take in their own culture. The large populace in Jamaica still prefer music by Jamaicans, and “the own” remains thus dominant in popular culture. It is not as much sidelined by US culture as happened in other countries (e.g. some European ones). Not even black US music became very dominant in Jamaica.

There is nonetheless a recent musical/cultural influence of US hip-hop on recent Jamaican dancehall. Ironically, in light of hip-hop's origins as an offshoot of Jamaican musical traditions. Now an influence comes back, so to speak. Some US artists often reach fame in Jamaica, have hits there, or even perform there regularly. Yet a dominant, direct US dominance there is not, safe for in certain circles, especially among the higher classes.

MARCUS GARVEY

Historically, the connection between Afro-Jamaicans and African Americans has also been complex. Marcus Garvey was a Jamaican-born visionary who fought and organized successfully for black people’s rights and their improvement internationally. He thus was an important early Black Power activist, being in that sense a trailblazer and influential upon Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, and the Black Panthers. He especially became influential after moving to the US in 1917, and mainly among US blacks. Not that he had no followers in Jamaica or the broader Caribbean region, but in the US he became most influential. He seemed to be the right man at the right time for (millions of!) US Blacks, becoming his followers and sympathizers. In comparison, Garvey was marginalized in his native Jamaica, which he also felt as such. Not all, but many black Jamaicans, he stated, strove to be culturally white and English, and were not open to black pride, nor interested in the Africa of their forebears. Jamaica was then after all still a British colony. The “mental slavery” he would also refer to. A Jamaican to the rescue of US Blacks seemed Garvey thus.

Marcus Garvey apparently responded to a specific historical need for discriminated and oppressed blacks in the US. After his extradition from the USA, in 1927, Garvey first returned to Jamaica, and started some initiatives, but again felt sidelined, eventually moving to London, England later in his life, where he also died in 1940.

CULTURAL INFLUENCE

For the decades after Garvey’s extradition from the US in 1927, Jamaican influences on US blacks were there occasionally, but this time more culturally than socially/politically. It related in part to migrations; e.g. later in history – as may be known – Jamaicans influenced the development of hip-hop music and rap. Hip-hop and rap are in essence Americanized offshoots of the Jamaican deejaying tradition.

Bob Marley, however, did earlier - in the 1970s - not reach as much black American fans as he himself wanted. Of course there were US blacks who liked Bob’s music – the Exodus album did fairly well among US blacks - , but the main fan base of Bob in the US consisted of liberal-minded (often marijuana-smoking) young white kids. This may be surprising – seeing the Rastafari and Garvey-ite lyrics of many of Bob’s songs – but can perhaps be explained by the superficiality of commercial pop culture. Some fans undoubtedly listened to the lyrics, but also many Marley fans were more superficially attracted by the relaxed, catchy riddims and songs, and relaxed Caribbean and weed-smoking, hippy-like “vibe”, Marley’s music in their mind conveyed. Not everyone is “intellectual” enough, so to speak, to focus on the meaning of lyrics when it comes to something associated for many with the festive, like pop culture.

SNOOP

I relate these facts, possibly known to many readers, because it makes a recent controversy all the more interesting. I am referring to African American hip-hop artist Snoop Dogg’s controversial self-declared conversion to Rastafari(anism), after visiting Jamaica several times. Snoop’s claimed conversion means a change from his less-serious, gangster-like hip-hop ways of before. Quite a big change, actually, making it less credible for many. Conversions from a life of sin or crime to the spiritual or religion (e.g. Christianity or Islam) are on the other hand not uncommon, and need not be insincere per se. Malcolm X is but one of many examples of such a change in his life.

Nonetheless Snoop Dogg, now with a new name Snoop Lion, met a lot of criticism or, milder, scepticism from some Jamaicans and Rastafarians. He was called a fake by Bunny Wailer, while other Rastafarians gave him, if often hesitantly, the benefit of the doubt. Jamaican Rastafari-adhering Dub Poet/thinker/radio host Mutabaruka pointed at Snoop being one of the "architects of Gangster Rap", finding this a bit hard to combine with his acclaimed growth to Rastafari spirituality, though he still gave him a chance. Further, the fact that Snoop was known as a fanatical weed-smoker, also in his hip-hop days, made many assume that his conversion to Rastafari should not be taken too seriously.

Sincere or not: the focus of a black American on a specific Afrocentric part of black Jamaican culture remains nonetheless interesting. In some sense it even is original, I opine. Black Power is associated in the US dominantly, though not exclusively, with the Nation of Islam, Louis Farrakhan, or related groups. I’m not in the head of Snoop Dogg/Lion so I cannot ascertain at this point his sincerity, but all in all it is an interesting step.

Snoop’s own statements on his reasons for converting seem somewhat contradictory, though some things he said seemed to me a sincere search for a more spiritually fulfilling life. I just do not know how “deep” this is. There might be as well a commercial reason: reinventing himself as a musical artist – now reggae instead of hip-hop - to reach new fan bases, perhaps.

RASTAFARI AND US BLACKS

Despite doubts and scepticism, Snoop’s “conversion” raises I think an interesting point. Why are relatively few US Blacks/African Americans interested in Rastafari? Many often even perpetuate the same clichés about reggae, Jamaica, or Rastafari as a lot of white Americans, while on the other hand connecting their sense of Black identity with a religion (Islam) that is – for all intents and purposes - more Arab than African. Only an overall small percentage of African slaves brought to the West were Islamic or from Islam-influenced parts (the Senegambia region especially). Most were not.

Rastafari is, as Mutabaruka describes it, historically a “Black Power movement with a theological nucleus”. It is based in part on Marcus Garvey’s ideas. That “theological nucleus” nonetheless may have some European (Christian/Biblical) influences, notably from British forms of Protestantism so influential in Jamaica’s history. Most Rastafari adherents however would claim that Christianity and the Bible are not European, but manipulated by Europeans. It is true that Ethiopia adopted Christianity before Europe did. The focus on Africa is much less present in the Nation of Islam (or related) Black Muslim groups, though not totally absent of course. The Nation Of Islam also soon gave up the goal of repatriation to Africa, most Rastafarians still espouse. Regarding content Rastafari is all in all “Blacker”, I argue, than the Nation of Islam.

The difference of course is that the Nation of Islam developed in the US itself after Garvey left the US, leaving behind an influence but also a vacuum. Rastafari developed on an island outside of the US: an island later predominantly known as a Caribbean destination for tropical holidays, and perhaps for its lively musical culture.

Another factor that may be influential in all these processes is the fact that culturally more African cultural aspects survived in Jamaica than in the US. This related to differences in the slavery regimes. There is some truth to the statements by e.g. black comedians in the US that black Caribbeans behave and talk differently – more African-like – because they were “dropped off first” from the slave ships on the islands before the ships reached the US. But after this, the slavery regime was also (compared to the US) even more extreme and harsh in Jamaica: with high mortality rates among slaves, surpassing births, making new African imports necessary for British colonial authorities. In the US the black slave population eventually grew (better food and other type of work are explanations given by historians), requiring not many new African slave imports.

More African culture has thus been preserved – even if reworked – in Jamaica. This is not to say that subtle African cultural aspects are absent in US Black culture. In fact, indirectly several African cultural features live on among African Americans in the US: musically, culturally, socially, linguistically, shaping it the way it is, albeit in interaction with Anglo-Saxon, White dominant culture. For instance: in African American Vernacular it is “I’m a saying”, in Jamaican Patois/Creole it is “Mi a seh”. In the US the Standard English "Going to" is replaced by “Gonna”, in Jamaican Patois/Creole they say “Gwine” for Going to (be). Of course these are gradations of a same African, in this case linguistic heritage. Similar musical and rhythmic patterns can be found originally in folk Jamaican music and folk US black music. The African heritage is maybe more limited and indirect in US than in Jamaican Black culture (also in music). Both in the US and British Caribbean, however, drumming was at a point forbidden, unlike in Spanish or French colonies where African drumming music in direct forms were tolerated under certain conditions.

All in all, nonetheless, there is a relatively more direct connection with the African roots in Afro-Jamaican than in Afro-US culture.

REACTIONS TO SNOOP’S “CONVERSION”

Reactions to Snoop’s conversion were thus varied. He was deemed a fake by several Jamaican Rastafari, including Bunny Wailer. Others embraced him more, like Rohan Marley, one of Bob’s sons. Many are somewhere in between.

From a musical perspective, reggae artists – although also Rastafari – have also critiqued Snoop Lion’s entering of a music he does not understand too well, aesthetically, so to speak. Jamaican reggae artist Anthony B said this in reaction to some songs by Snoop Lion he heard – which he found of weak musical quality and not up to par -, though he considered Snoop a talented musician/artist in his own, rap genre. Others applauded his move to a more positive lyrical message, but still doubted whether this qualifies him as a true Rastafarian.

In light of rap and hip-hop origins as an off-shoot of Jamaican music, a hip-hop/rap artist turning to reggae seems, however, less extraordinary. In Snoop’s case his love for the music of Bob Marley connected him to reggae, and through this eventually to Rastafari. But just loving Bob’s music – or smoking weed - is of course not enough for this.

Donald Manning of the reggae group the Abyssinians said during a discussion (‘Reggae University’) at the Rototom Sunsplash festival in Spain in 2010 that “knowledge” is essential to be a Rastafari: not just hair or clothes. Others say that more is needed than just having the knowledge: you have to live it with a (natural) life style called ‘Livity’. This includes natural living, eating vegetarian, non-processed food, combined with being guided by the ideas of Marcus Garvey and Haile Selassie.

Rastafari is not a very much centralized, institutionalized religion, and neither has strict codes for its followers. It differs from subgroup to subgroup within Rastafari - some, as the Bobo Ashanti, have stricter rules and traditions - but much is unfixed or debatable. Many of the basic tenets are thus interpreted loosely, though there are certain crucial points beyond doubt: Marcus Garvey, the importance of Haile Selassie, Africa, of course a righteous living (no crime or abuse), questioning Babylon (Western) system, and at least certain dietary/intake considerations, e.g. no pork, cigarettes, alcohol, or drugs. Marijuana is accepted (though not obliged), especially for meditational purposes. I do not know whether Snoop Lion follows all these points and aspects (I know only the marijuana part for sure). And these are even minimal requirements in my opinion.

If his crime days are really behind him that is a good start. If he knows more than average about Marcus Garvey and Haile Selassie this is better still. But I do not know all this about his knowledge and views, neither about his lifestyle and dietary customs. Too much interference in one’s private life soon becomes unpleasantly authoritarian and collectivistic: it goes more with what can be called “religions” like Catholicism, which Rastas also criticize. While it is a freer, some say “looser” spiritual movement with attention to strong individualism, Rastafari still upholds certain values – which I outlined before -, though without such enforcement.

OTHER CONVERTS TO RASTAFARI

A debate about Snoop’s conversion is nonetheless acceptable I think. The fact that Snoop is a black man, makes it a bit odd though. White reggae artists like Alborosie, Groundation, and Gentleman are also self-proclaimed Rastafarians, or use Rastafari terminology. They did/do not seem to meet as much criticism. Jamaican Rastafari generally speaking seem to accept – or have come to terms with – white (or other non-black) people joining an originally black movement like Rastafari. While some are sceptical about white Rastas, many also appreciate it as a sign of an international influence (starting with Bob Marley, often), that is wholesome, or at least puts Rastafari or Jamaican culture on the map. The scrutiny anyhow seems all in all less when compared to Snoop’s conversion. Maybe it is Snoop’s Gangster Rap past that heightens the mistrust. Or his fun-loving, non-serious image.

Also the Soldiers of Jah Army (SOJA), who seem to have quite some fans, consist of white Americans, who - as evident from their band name - claim to have become Rastafarians. They also are dreadlocked. In some lyrics they say, however, that they interpret Rastafari in their own way.

More annoying is a band named Christafari. They consist of members who were – as they say - Rastafarians but later became Christians, espousing this Christianity as much as they can. Members say they were Rastafarians in their teens when they were taking drugs but later converted to Christianity. The whole suggestion behind this is offensive to the Rastafari community. They further add insult to injury by wearing dreadlocks, and still using also other Rasta-derived symbols, including terminology such as “Jah” in their lyrics. Like everyone they have the right to their beliefs, and to free speech, but I think it’s objectionable to use more or less as a Rasta-influenced Roots Reggae format for this. I agree in this sense with (once) online reggae reviewer Mark H. Harris (see: http://www.reggae-reviews.com/christafari.html).

GANJA HERB

In the recent documentary ‘Bob Marley: the making of a legend’ (2011), based on Esther Anderson’s (private) films with Bob Marley in 1973 and 1974, the topic of Rastafari was touched as well. Esther Anderson was one of the girlfriends of Bob Marley, travelling with him and the Wailers on (international) tours in 1973 and 1974. Just before “bigger fame”. The time-frame was limited, and in part the focus, but I found the documentary engaging. This was because the (for then) modern equipment (Sony camera) filmed Bob and others in casual, daily life, giving more insight in him as a person. The filmed discussions (including “reasonings” as the Rastas call it) between Peter Tosh and Bob Marley, were very interesting. During such a reasoning Peter Tosh argued that God is “within” the human being, and not “above” in the sky and apart. Most Rastas adhere to this view of the “inner divine”. The ganja herb (marijuana) serves to help find this inner divine person: one of the I of the “I and I” concept. Tosh thus presented the ganja herb as essential for Rastafari under/overstanding of life. Other Rastas view this differently, saying marijuana is not really necessary for such a heightened/deeper consciousness (argued by e.g. Mutabaruka who did/does not smoke weed).

I cite this specifically because Snoop Lion, before his conversion, was also known as a fanatical marijuana smoker. It seemed an essential part of his identity. Is using/smoking ganja/weed really required to reach Rastafari consciousness, or what is called “IanI consciousness”? I think it’s more complicated than that. After all…there are a lot of weed/marijuana smokers world wide whose thinking or behaviour are not at all “Rasta-like”.

An interesting recently published introductory work to Rastafari is a small book called ‘Rastafari : a very short introduction’ (Oxford University Press, 2012), written by Ennis B. Edmonds, a Jamaican scholar and expert on Rastafari (http://www2.kenyon.edu/Depts/Religion/Fac/Edmonds/edmonds.htm). The “very short” of its subtitle should not be taken too literally: it is a book, no leaflet, and still has about 127 pages. It is introductory, yet informative even for those who are quite knowledgeable already about Rastafari: it pays attention to nuances, internal differences and discussions, and different sides and developments. It is a good and pleasant read as well, and Edmonds knows how to explain even difficult topics relating to Rastafari. He also reports the view as expressed by Tosh in the documentary. It is worth to quote in length:

“It [ganja] is the vehicle that leads one through the distorted landscape of Babylon and the false consciousness spawned by its oppressive institutions to a discovery of the true self, the divine I capable of self-direction. Interestingly, ganja smoking is usually the precursor to growing dreadlocks and the declaration of Rastafarian identity” (Edmonds, 2012, p. 49).

At the same time Edmonds also points at Rastas who do/did not need ganja for this consciousness.

I quoted Rastafari reggae artist Donald Manning (of the Abyssinians) before who associated being a true Rastafari with proper knowledge. I therefore wonder what Snoop Lion’s knowledge about Rastafari is. Has he read ‘The philosophy and opinions of Marcus Garvey’? And further a good, imparcial biography of Haile Selassie (not the one by Ryszard Kapuściński, that one was parcial and partly invented), the as informative as well-written biography of Marcus Garvey called ‘Negro with a hat’ by Colin Grant, or any introductory work on Rastafari?. What does he know about Africa? Has he informed himself through other people? Judging by some of Snoop’s own statements in this regard, he knew some aspects of Rastafari (natural living and food, lion symbol). Even if his knowledge is by now extensive: does he “live” that knowledge and how?

Of course it all depends on his personal choices, and he is free to make those as he wants. If it is anything more than commercially or opportunistically motivated, I myself applaud the joining by a black (US) American of the Jamaican-originated Rastafari movement. I find it - if sincere - refreshing and in a sense even hopeful. I think it also makes sense, perhaps a bit more than becoming Muslim (even when of the African American Nation of Islam variety) as other US hip-hop artists have. Especially when looking from a “Black diaspora” perspective, as well as in relation to the history of Marcus Garvey and Black Power.

Time will tell how real and sincere this conversion of Snoop Dogg to Snoop Lion is…

Differing paths, similar destinations : debut recordings/songs of Jamaican artists

(This blog post/essay goes combined with a YouTube playlist, serving as a catalogue of debut recordings/songs of Jamaican reggae artists, as long as to be found on YouTube - which is often the case. See the end of this post, or the link (http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLBiUHLE6GUMgXxytQh3vrlzd2_-bDucbM).
I hope that you will take time to read this somewhat long post, though, as I think it is an informative and contextualizing elaboration on that playlist on YouTube. There is - because of the theme - unavoidably a lot of "name-dropping" hereunder. I hoped that putting artist names in bold typography helped.)
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The interesting thing about recording musical artists is their traceability. This is precisely because they are recording: “fixing” their expressions physically. These then don’t just evaporate, so to speak. Their creative expressions are furthermore recorded on a given moment in time: on a particular point in their life. This personal life can of course change, the social context they live in changes, priorities can change, musical influences as well, new possibilities, new encounters, and even the personality and worldview of the artist can change over time.

The artists’ songs thus are a creative “summarizing” diary of the artists’ life. When an artist records for decades this can even be more interesting. Do the lyrics and style show consistency over the years, or does the person seem changed in outlook, when studying the recordings? What happened to him or her in his/her life, causing such a change? Psychologically intriguing..

I think in the genre of reggae music this is specifically interesting due to certain historically shaped characteristics and contradictions of the reggae music’s content and scene, as well as in Jamaica’s history. Jamaica is now a poor, developing country with large inequalities between poor and rich, and it had/has a history of slavery and race- and class-related oppression, still largely persisting. The Rastafari movement – essentially “a Black Power movement with a theological nucleus” (dixit Mutabaruka) - arose in Jamaica in the 1930s as a response to these injustices.

The connection of Rastafari to reggae is known and evident. Rastafari and reggae are separate domains, yet strongly connected, especially during the Roots Reggae era (1970s and around), but still today with the New Roots movement. Many reggae artists and to a lesser degree dancehall artists are Rastafari-adherents. Others at least sympathize with the movement.

Others of a similar low social position choose a quite distinct path of “slackness”: boasting lyrics on violence and sex, in an edgy manner. This is sadly reflective of another aspect of Jamaican society, especially problematic since the 1980s: gun violence and gang criminality making that some of the Jamaican ghettos have among the highest homicide rates in the world, as well as quite high rates of other types of crime.

These differing – contrasting - worldviews can both be found at the central place/space of reggae music’s public life: the dancehall. The place where new songs are played traditionally in Jamaica. Roots and “conscious” (which means more or less “socially critical”), and/or spiritual lyrics and worldviews, and on the other hand slackness lyrics are separate domains, but at the same time in practice not so separate as many think, and in a sense also intertwined. Or better said: side by side: in the dancehalls, in clubs/bars, in the ghetto, and other places. Just as good and bad can exist side by side in certain places. And of course within individuals..

From this perspective, I will in this post analyze the starting points for artists, at least regarding “recordings”: debut singles/songs. Equivalent in this case to their recorded entry in the music business. Many of course performed (dee-jaying/toasting or singing) before actually recording in studios, but still.. Artists’ first “fixed” or documented presentations as “new names” in reggae/ Jamaican music were still in the form of Debut Singles, or at least recordings (not all first recordings were immediately released as single BTW). Some artists also started recording at a very young age , i.e. in their teens (e.g. Dennis Brown, Jacob Miller, Hugh Mundell, Junior Reid, Beenie Man a.o).

Such records of artists soon will inevitably combine with an image building of these artists in some way (spiritual or militant Rastaman, “bad man/gangster”, rough, oversexed man or “sensitive lover”, smooth and sensual, humorous and carnival-like?). Such basic imagery associated with artists can be simplistic, but seems almost unavoidable, and even necessary to get audience attention in the full, vibrant reggae scene. People often want to categorize people/phenomena easily and simplifying. Sad but true. The superficiality of this may have even increased in the digital age.

You might say: good songs/music speak for themselves. Even then an image arises out of these songs (e.g. is the style of an artist “meditative”, “militant”, rebellious, sensuous, smooth, rough ETC). Is this image, this vibe maintained throughout an artist’s career? Does he/she still have the same kind of songs, public image, vibe, and lyrics, say, 20 years later? If not: what caused this change? I am going to analyze this through some representative reggae (and dancehall) artists already longer in the business: how do their debut single as still aspiring/beginning artist relate to their later work? Did they ever reinvent themselves, partly or entirely, along the line, or not? If so, why? If not: what kept them consistent?

CHOICES

A main life choice characteristic of Jamaica, especially in poorer parts, is between crime and righteousness. Among the latter Rastafari is an important spiritual, righteous (counter)force against Babylon wickedness and crime.. This is interesting in and by itself. It is said often that in the ghetto to survive many find it hard to avoid turning to crime. The temptations are too big, as also discussed in several reggae lyrics (and in another way also in later hip-hop lyrics of course). Being successful with music at least provides a way to make money for poor people, besides crime.

When dealing with musical artists, besides such social/lifestyle choices, also cultural/musical or commercial choices are interesting. This can show in lyrical themes or in musical genre and accents. Like personal choices these can also change. Several artists go along with the music  genres over time: depending on the times they began recording, e.g.  those who started recording  in the early 1960s start in the ska genre. Many then go with the flow of Jamaican musical changes: through rocksteady, reggae and finally dancehall (e.g. Ethiopians, the Wailers, Max Romeo, Bob Andy, John Holt, Sugar Minott, the Wailing Souls and others).  The Twinkle Brothers  -  later more known for their rootsy songs - started also in the ska era, in 1964, with the love song ‘Somebody Please Help Me’. Like Bob Marley’s debut (also ska) song also for producer Leslie Kong.

Interestingly, relatively many artists of the second tier after this started recording in/around 1967, and thus had their debut singles in the rocksteady genre: another precursor to reggae (e.g. the debut songs of Horace Andy, the Gladiators, the Viceroys and others).

Some start singing but later “toast/chat” (or something similar), or even rap  (in the US mode) at times. Junior Reid is an example, Michael Rose too. Junior Reid’s debut single ‘Speak The Truth’ (late 1970s) at the young age of 13 (!) is evidently a (vocally “sung”) Roots song. Not a bad one, actually, with also good lyrics, especially considering his young age and his just starting. Even Roots veterans like Bunny Wailer or the Wailing Souls turned to toasting/chatting later in their careers. Some start out toasting/chatting and later turn to singing (Buju Banton). So, the other way around.  Similarly: some recent Jamaican artists start in dancehall, but later make roots-like songs (e.g. Busy Signal with his recent “reggae revival” album), also mostly meaning vocal changes (from toasting to singing)

Of early generations of Jamaican artists some are/were influenced by US Black genres (e.g. soul) and had songs in Black US genres in the beginning, but over time Jamaicanized their genre they wrote songs in, i.e. in ska, rocksteady, and reggae. An example is Alton Ellis, whose first recorded song was R&B-like. Beres Hammond also started as a soul singer. John Holt’s debut song ‘I Cried A Tear’ (1962) similarly was R&B/soul-like. Also Cornell Campbell recorded his first song – at the age of 11! – in as early as 1956 in a R&B mode. Even before ska..

LYRICS

Peter Tosh stated at a certain point that he would never make love songs again, seeing the world problems, inequalities, an oppression of the massive poor people. Others also seldom write love songs – from the beginning as it were -, while others interchange love and “conscious”, Rastafari lyrics. Maybe they grew into Rastafari later in life and turned the balance more to conscious lyrics. Others even more radically changed not from “softer” love songs, but even from slackness/violent/sexual/boastful lyrics to more conscious lyrics, often also after growing into Rastafari. The latter, extreme “from slackness to consciousness”-route reminds somewhat of born-again Christians professing that after a life of whoring, gambling, crime and sin, they were saved and came “into God”.

Such a route – though speaking of lyrics not actual deeds - is actually not uncommon in reggae. Buju Banton begun with his first song ‘The Ruler’ (1987) – at the age of only 14 – with slackness/boastful lyrics, as was the case with the follow-up ‘Boom Bye Bye’ (1988), the lyrics of which many consider homophobic and violent,  but later in his career and life Buju made different, deeper Rastafari-inspired roots songs (also singing). Capleton likewise started with  - violent and homophobic – slackness lyrics in his first song ‘Bumbo Red’ (also recorded in the late 1980s), but later grew into Rastafari and made primarily Rastafari-lyrics, though vocally and musically staying quite consistent (chatting/singjaying still).  He later would say that his violent homophobic lyrics were meant metaphorical.

Sizzla’s debut single was Rastafari-inspired already (‘True God’ a.k.a. ‘No White God’ – recorded in 1995) and he more or less remained in that path (though more risqué lyrics can be found on some of his later albums). Interesting differences in paths. Likewise consistent is Jah Mason, maintaining  a Rastafari message from his debut single praising Selassie I in 1995 - under the name Perry Mason (?) - to the present. Likewise Natty King, Turbulence, I-Wayne, and others started with conscious lyrics, such as against gun violence on Natty King’s ‘No Guns To Town’ from 2003: his debut single and also – rather untypical for debut singles! - soon a big hit for him in Jamaica and beyond. I-Wayne’s single condemning prostitution ‘Can’t Satisfy Her’, was also a debut that soon became a hit.

Another newer artist - of this so-called ‘New Roots movement' - started out with conscious lyrics in their first recording in the mid-1990s: Bushman with ‘Grow Yuh Natty’ (though not the first released as single, I think). Also Anthony B’s debut single (with Little Devon), called ‘The Living is Hard’ (1993), was conscious. Richie Spice’s debut song was about, well, music itself you might say, but he later had mostly conscious, Rastafari lyrics. Differing paths, similar destinations..

Are there examples of the other way around?  Artists starting with conscious, Rastafari lyrics, such as in their debut singles, that would later radically shift to joking or slackness lyrics? I would say: yes and no. Eek-A-Mouse recorded his first singles under his own name Ripton Hylton: roots reggae with Rastafari lyrics, influenced by the meditative style of Pablo Moses. These included the strong composition ‘My Father’s Land’  (which he later re-recorded).
Later he turned to other lyrics: not very much Rastafari-inspired (though Jah was mentioned at times), but neither overly focussed on “slackness” (though it was not absent). Joking, satirical, carnivalesque, are his later lyrics under the moniker ‘Eek-A-Mouse’ mostly, sometimes with a bit of social commentary, but mostly descriptive/satirical. Yet it was not really slackness in the sense of graphic sexuality or glorifying gun violence. Not in the direct sense, anyway. There was a clear lyrical shift, however. Maybe, he genuinely was inspired by Rastafari in the beginning, but that inspiration turned more to the background later in his life or he found it maybe too heavy a burden. Maybe it was partly for commercial reasons. That artists shift their focus to love songs for commercial reasons is not too rare or unimaginable (to mind come e.g. British-based reggae group Aswad, but also some Jamaican artists like Gyptian).

Ini Kamoze began with socially conscious Rastafari-inspired lyrics with his debut single ‘World Affairs’ (1981), and about 13 years later, in 1994, he had a crossover-hit of sorts in a distinct, satirical “gangsta rapper” role, with his song ‘Here Comes The Hotstepper’. I don’t think however that this represents truly a deep shift within Ini Kamoze, who remained Rastafari-inspired. The 1994 'Hotstepper' rap-like song was a carnivalesque, satirical interlude or break from Ini’s general (Rastafari/conscious) thread, being a difference with Eek-A-Mouse. Ini Kamoze remained playful and very poetic with in his lyrics throughout, though, making them literary in some sense. Yet overall they remained Rastafari-inspired.

CONSISTENCY?

Burning Spear and Joseph Hill (of Culture) remained consistent within the roots genre: lyrically and largely musically. Joseph Hill/Culture did record some dancehall-like songs, later in his career, so he also went with the flow of changing genres in Jamaican music. Burning Spear stayed even more in the classic roots genre, but of course of a high quality. Also Israel Vibration seemed not so much to be influenced by later dancehall. Pablo Moses also remained quite consistently within his specific  “meditative” roots vein since his good debut single ‘I Man A Grashopper’ recorded  in 1975 at Lee “Scratch” Perry’s Black Ark studio. There were and are, however, several roots veterans making dancehall-like songs later in their career, including Horace Andy, Winston Jarrett, the Wailing Souls, Bunny Wailer and others, though mostly more musically than lyrically. Thus partly going with the flow of musical changes.
Don Carlos started with Black Uhuru in a conscious mode with the strong tune ‘Genocide (on the poor)’, in the late 1970s. Don Carlos largely stayed in a conscious, Rastafari mode during his career – with some dancehall influences -, but did not eschew occasional love or festive songs in the course of his career.

Some artist begun already more or less during a transition period between roots reggae and early dancehall, and stayed in the latter. Sugar Minott, Half Pint, Cocoa Tea (first recording under the name Calvin Scott), Michael Prophet, Frankie Paul, and Barrington Levy for instance. Their style eventually stayed in a roots-influenced early dancehall mode, though. Barrington Levy’s debut single as part of the Mighty Multitudes, called ‘My Black Girl’ (1978), can still be called roots reggae (with also a “lover’s vibe”), however, as were Sugar Minott’s early songs as part of the African Brothers, in the in the roots reggae heyday of the 1970s. Love songs were not uncommon for some of these artists (e.g. Sugar Minott), making them partly relate to what can is called the 'Lovers Rock' sub-genre (Gregory Isaacs would later be called the “King of Lovers Rock” by some).

Third World also showed a mainstream (pop/soul) feel in their type of reggae in their first recording, a feel that they would maintain throughout. In that sense they also were consistent, just like Burning Spear, Culture, Israel Vibration and others remained, by contrast, consistent in a less-mainstream/poppy, rootsier type of reggae.

There is quite some variation among artists, one can conclude from the above. Some remained (largely) consistent lyrically/thematically as well as musically (Burning Spear, Israel Vibration, Culture, Congos, Mighty Diamonds, or – on the slacker side - Mavado, Bounty Killer, Ward 21 a.o.). Others stayed lyrically consistent but less musically: lending their usual thematic focus to other, more modern music forms/genres evolving within reggae over time, thus adapting to musical changes. Some changed their lyrics, but less their musical genre, and some both ETCETERA. Many are somewhere in between.

Interestingly, Gregory Isaacs first recorded single, ‘Another Heartache’ (1968),  was "early" reggae (differing musically from his later songs), but its lyrics were consistent with his lyrics later in his career: “the hurt, lonely lover” theme. It had the strong, evoking lines “Hoping and pretending is all that I could do..”: that’s beautifully formulated the essence of desperation...  Later Isaacs would maintain such a (‘lovers rock’?) lyrical focus, interchanged with Rastafari/social lyrics. Also the Mighty Diamonds started with a love song and later had more conscious lyrics, as did Max Romeo, the Wailing Souls, Dennis Brown and others.

Starting out with love songs can be sincere expressions of the heart and mind of course, but it is not unthinkable that commercial/marketing reasons influenced this in some cases: love songs prove more easily popular with a large segment of the public, as do “festive” songs. This is/was as true of worldwide pop culture as the Jamaican one. The later increase of Rastafari lyrics may, on the other hand, also shows the rising influence of the Rastafari movement among parts of the Jamaican population.

CONCLUSIONS: PSYCHOLOGICALLY AND SOCIOLOGICALLY

Most (aspiring) musical artists in Jamaica were and are from poor backgrounds, and tend to come from poor ghetto areas like the Trench Town or Waterhouse districts in Kingston. Many may already know this. The music industry - e.g. through "hit songs" - thus provides a source of possible income, a way to make money and decrease poverty, different from crime, or being exploited in some companies by volatile bosses paying low wages. It thus relates to economic survival, but on a deeper level I think it also has to do with a search for "dignity". 

Some insightful conclusions can be drawn from all this, I think. Psychologically: seemingly obvious -  that human beings interact with the (changing) social reality surrounding them. Their lyrics are a way to connect themselves socially with life aspects to achieve dignity in their own understanding. Poor black people with a history of at least 400 years of oppression and denial of full humanity, and still being discriminated, need this all the more.

This can take different forms, even in conflict with each other. Some present themselves as conscious Rastas, some (often also Rastas of course) as militant politically or Black Power adherents. Still others as joker/entertainer, others as ladies’ men or sensitive lovers, others as tough gangsters. The mentioned image building relates to this as well. All responding to a basic human need for dignity and self-expression, so much denied for ghetto people. Different from, say, middle-class people whose fathers have a job prepared for them in some firm controlling the fate of other people whilst also securing their elite and influential status in the society and media. Ghetto people are on the other hand the victims, the object of this control, excluded from such power structures in society, and have to find other ways to gain an income, but also to achieve basic, human dignity. Music is an important means for this. “Redemption song..is all I ever had”, as Bob Marley sang.

Debut singles of Jamaican artist thus clearly have a deeper social meaning than merely representing a moment in time for aspiring musicians/singers hanging around music studios.

MUSICAL QUALITY

These were the psychological, sociological and lyrical perspectives. But music is of course also an art form, aimed at a public. Therefore it is of course also interesting to evaluate the quality of these first songs of artists who would in time become often settled reggae artists.

This is a subjective matter, of course: opinions on a single song can differ from person to person, depending on their tastes. For the same reason mere commercial success does not say too much. It says something about what was popular in the Jamaican dancehalls at the time of release, but the song can be good apart from this. A crappy song that gets recorded anyway is not uncommon, but not very probable. Even a single recording costs money for the producer and artist and others involved (studio time, musicians): so some people should believe in it before starting the process of recording and marketing them. Many studios/producers in fact held regular auditions to select among artists or groups those of relatively good quality to record.

Many artist who started recording in the 1960s and 1970s started at the “Motown of Jamaica”: Studio One. Not all though: there were several other studios around, owned e.g. by Duke Reid, Joe Gibbs, Leslie Kong and others. In time other studios like Channel One, Black Ark, and Harry J’s also became important. Still later (since the 1990s) other studios, often aimed more at dancehall, would appear. Lutan Fyah’s first singles were for example recorded at Buju Banton’s Gargamel Studio, while Buju Banton had started not too long before this…

The quality standards at Studio One were high, as were those of studios like Channel One,  and I think this is notable on the debut singles from the 1960s/70s/early 80s, that were mostly of an acceptable or good quality. Besides this the songwriting and vocal talents of the respective artists were in most cases evident from the beginning, especially considering the often young age of artists when they started recording.

The catchy debut – rocksteady - song of the Wailing Souls, called ‘You’ve Lost The Love’ (196Xs) - under the name the Renegades - also showed their talent from the start, as did the Mighty Diamonds’ debut song. In my opinion from a songwriting/musical perspective the Wailing Souls’ (or Renegades’) debut song is one of the better debuts I know, along with Burning Spear’s simply classic, early roots of ‘Door Peep’ (1969). Those are in my opinion the two best reggae Debut songs I know, but that is my opinion. Wailing Souls and Burning Spear had proved their talent more than sufficiently after their debuts, of course.. Bob Marley’s first recording, 'Judge Not', was also a strong, catchy ska song - with good lyrics as well - showing the songwriting talents he undeniably had.

The Abyssinians as a vocal trio had the also classic ‘Satta Massagana’ (1968) as their debut. This song is a bit less of a debut, since two of the three members (Donald and Linford Manning) recorded partly as part of Carlton and the Shoes before this, plus lyrically the song is – in part –based on this earlier group’s  earlier recorded song ‘Happy Land’ as well. Still, the Abyssinians as a roots group had an impressive debut song nonetheless with ‘Satta Massagana’. It even became a sort of Rasta anthem.

Also the already mentioned Isaacs debut recording 'Another Heartache' was in my opinion a good song, though it “went nowhere” (i.e. was not successful commercially). Also Junior Reid’s first song recorded at the age of only 13 was good and catchy. Similarly Jacob Miller’s debut song ‘Love Is A Message’ with an audibly younger voice showed already his talent, as did Horace Hinds (=Horace Andy) good debut song, recorded in the rocksteady era, with a conscious, Black Power message, called ‘This Is A Black Man’s Country’ (1967). This song failed to have too much commercial success at the time, but it’s a good song, considering also he was 16 years of age at the time, and the conscious lyrics were not too common then, rendering it original.

I can appreciate some modern dancehall – even digital - as long as it’s groovy/danceable, but not all. I am more a roots fan. I find it thus more difficult to judge the quality of debut songs by Bounty Killer, Mavado, Sean Paul, Ward 21 and others. Though I note they have catchy elements. The lyrics of both Capleton’s debut song (homophobic/violent) and Buju Banton’s (machismo) were in a way, well, stupid and nonsensical, but from a musical perspective, admittedly: the vocal flow on these debut songs already showed their unique vocal (and rhythmic) talents. Luckily their lyrics  improved over time.

Especially since around 1980 the custom of using the same Riddims (instrumentals) for different vocalists became more common in part of the Jamaican music industry, even at Studio One. Some artists starting after this started to record on existing riddims, but the vocal additions by artists can of course still be evaluated. I think strictly regarding vocal flow (apart from the lyrics) – the capacity to skilfully “ride a riddim” and add to it - Capleton and Buju Banton showed their deejay-ing talents from early on in their early recordings, as did Jah Mason. Sizzla’s debut song ‘True God’ also showed his strong, own, unique style, at least partly, as he would test his vocal dexterity more in later songs. Interesting is also the case of Beenie Man who even started recording in 1981 (the song ‘Too Fancy’) at the age of 9 (that is: n-i-n-e)! Even as a child he had a nice rhythmic flow..

From an earlier generation, dee-jays/toasters like U Roy, Big Youth, I-Roy, Prince Fari, and Price Jazzbo - all actually dee-jaying/toasting at sound systems long before actually recording - also gave a hint of their appeal and talent as sound system toasters on their first recordings. As did a later tier (starting to record  in the early 1980s) of dee-jay’s like Josey Wales, Brigadier Jerry and others, who had mostly catchy debuts..

I think much of the songwriting and vocal/singing talents of the earlier iconic roots and reggae groups were (in most cases) already – at least partly - evident in their debut recordings, not only of Burning Spear, the Wailing Souls, the Mighty Diamonds,  Israel Vibration, the Itals (debut song: ‘In A Dis A Time’), Junior Byles (first solo single: ‘Demonstration’, 1970), Hugh Mundell (his first released – though not first recorded - single was the strong ‘Africa Must Be Free By 1983’, in 1975), Junior Reid, Horace Andy, and Culture/Joseph Hill, some of whom I already mentioned, but also e.g. the Gladiators, Johnny Osbourne, Jacob Miller, and Marcia Griffiths…they all  started with good or even strong songs. Also, the early recording of the Tartans (who included Cedric Myton of Congos’ fame, as well as Prince Lincoln Thompson), called  ‘Far Beyond The Sun’, a rocksteady song from 1967, was good. Half Pint’s debut song ‘Sally’ (1983) was merely okay, to my taste, and I personally like better the groovy songs he would come up not long after (e.g. ‘Mr Landlord’, ‘Substitute Lover’).

Little Roy had his debut single under his own name Earl Lowe, called ‘I am Gonna Cool It’, recorded around 1965 at Studio One. A nice debut I think, with a younger version of his characteristic, soulful, aching voice. Little Roy/Earl Lowe was about 12 years of age at the time (he was born in 1953) he recorded his debut song. The young age many artists began recording must mean something sociologically as well.

An interesting fact I have not really mentioned yet: most artists debuting wrote their debut songs themselves, at least partly (sometimes just the vocal part and/or basic chord structure), although some started with a cover. A significant fact, I think, when added to their vocal or musical skills.

CONCLUSIONS: QUALITY

Of most debuts I encountered I can understand why they decided to record it. The debut songs were mostly good, albeit to differing degrees. Some were just “nice” or quite catchy, others were good, and quite a few even great or strong. A few of the debut songs can be called classics: I think Burning Spear’s ‘Door Peep’, the Itals’ ‘In A Dis A Time’, Hugh Mundell’s ‘Africa Must Be Free By 1983’, the Abyssinians' ‘Satta Massagana’, and Lee Perry’s ‘People Funny Boy’ (one of the earliest reggae songs!),  and from earlier times the Sensations’ timeless ‘Everyday Is Like A Holiday’. I think these songs have those timeless qualities that make them classics in Jamaican music. Also Junior Reid’s debut is above average I think, as was the Wailing Souls’ strong debut song (topping it later with even stronger songs). Also Johnny Osbourne’s debut recording was very strong (and later covered by other artists like the Mighty Diamonds, which gives an indication). Time will tell whether “classic” will apply as well to more recent debuts, e.g. of I-Wayne, that became instant hits.

In other cases debut songs were still good, but the artists would have better songs later in their career, often not too long after debuting. In those cases the best was still to come. The potential, the artists’ talent showed already – even if they were sometimes very young - but was not yet fulfilled, needed  perhaps a bit to fully develop. I think this is the case with Alton Ellis, Israel Vibration, Culture, Bob Marley, Little Roy, the Wailing Souls, Mighty Diamonds, Twinkle Brothers, Dennis Brown, Barrington Levy, Tenor Saw, Half Pint, Ini Kamoze, Capleton, Jah Mason, Bushman, Busy Signal, Queen Ifrica (and others)…also all great artists with unique talents and great songs during their career..I think they just did not “peak” yet, so to speak, at the very start of it. Their debuts were not bad, but their best songs came, in my opinion, later in their career.

YOUTUBE

I’ve searched the remarkably great database of YouTube for debut songs of Jamaican artists. I found a lot – in fact most mentioned above - , though not every single one. I also found in some cases only later versions of the original debut recordings (modern versions/live).

All in all, I combined what I could find in a Playlist (or sub-catalogue if you will) on YouTube of Debut songs/recordings of Jamaican artists. Tips for songs to be added are of course welcome (even if not mentioned in the text above).The Jamaican music scene is so extensive, that I still can forget or leave out some names unintentionally. I’m only human and can also make mistakes, so proper corrections, if necessary, are also welcome. E-mail me through Blogspot or YouTube in that case.

A fully comprehensive overview of debut singles is perhaps an illusion, considering the extensive Jamaican music industry since the 1960s, with so many artists recording. Even then…there might be a lot, but not “everything” is on YouTube.  Let’s just say the goal is somewhere between a representative and a comprehensive overview. The result is I think still very insightful for many reggae lovers.  At least most artist mentioned in the above text are to be found in the playlist, including influential and well-known artists, and representative artists of the distinct sub-genres. Luckily, there were and are also quite some original versions to be found on YouTube: interesting for historical reasons.

Check the playlist at:http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLBiUHLE6GUMgXxytQh3vrlzd2_-bDucbM

Note: for this text AND for the YouTube playlist I limited my scope to Jamaican artists, so reggae artists from outside of Jamaica (e.g. Aswad, Steel Pulse, Midnite, Groundation, Gentleman, Shaggy, Maxi Priest or others) are not included. Not that that cannot be interesting as well..

Zwarte Piet

Je zou kunnen zeggen dat de discussie elke keer weer oplaait, maar dan heb je het wel over een bepaald perspectief. Vanuit het perspectief van blanke Nederlanders laait die discussie “weer elke keer” op. Negatiever: “dat gezeur weer” of “herhaling van zetten”. Ik heb het over de Zwarte Piet-discussie. Zwarte Nederlanders, van Surinaamse en andere afkomst, blijven bezwaar maken tegen de rol van Zwarte Piet als knecht van Sinterklaas bij het grote, jaarlijkse kinderfeest van 5 december. De stereotiepe, koloniale rol en even stereotiepe nabootsing van zwarte mensen lijken mij echter moeilijk te relativeren.

In zijn column in de Vrij Nederland van de week van 17 november 2012 relativeert (de zelf gekleurde) Stephan Sanders het op de enig mogelijke zinnige manier: namelijk historisch. Hij wijst op een historisch verloop. De Surinaamse accenten, kroeshaar, en andere verwijzingen naar reëel bestaande zwarte mensen waren niet deel van het oorspronkelijke feest maar ontstonden alzo sinds de jaren 70 en 80 (van de 20e eeuw). Oorspronkelijk werd een vage verwijzing naar verre, exotische “Moren” uitgebeeld, enigszins in verband staand met Spanje waar Sinterklaas vandaan zou komen (hoewel eigenlijk Turkije).

MOREN?

Moren waren vooral Noord-Afrikanen, dus, dacht men, zwarte, exotische mensen. Nog steeds waren deze mensen “knechten” van de blanke Sinterklaas, dus een deel van de stereotiepe, koloniale rol was er toen dus ook al: ook zonder nagebootst Surinaams accent. Los daarvan neemt de mythe het hier over van de feitelijke historische realiteit.

De Moren, Moslims die eeuwen lang grote delen van het huidige Spanje overheersten, waren ietwat gevarieerder dan sommigen vermoeden. Hoe mooi de gedachte ook is dat zwarte Afrikanen Middeleeuwse Europeanen beschaving leerden in dit inderdaad relatief ontwikkelde rijk, klopt het helaas maar ten dele. Althans volgens de meeste historische bronnen. Er was een hierarchie: bovenaan in het Moorse Rijk stonden de Arabieren, daaronder – in een middenpositie – bevond zich een grote groep Noord-Afrikanen, veelal Berbers, soms gemengd met Arabieren of zwarte Afrikanen en later “autochtone” Spanjaarden. Daaronder waren er de slaven, die helaas vaak zwarte Afrikanen waren. Helaas gold ook in Moors Spanje, net als in het latere Europese kolonialisme: hoe blanker hoe machtiger en hoger.

Daarbuiten was er een repressieve tolerantie voor andersgelovigen, maar nog steeds “Abrahamistisch” of “van het boek”. Joden (Spanje kende toen naar Europese begrippen relatief veel Joden) en Christenen. Flink wat van deze Christenen (autochtone Spanjaarden) bekeerden zich in de loop der tijd tot de Islam.

Er was wel aardig wat flexibiliteit binnen deze hierarchie. Het was niet onmogelijk voor een Berber, of een (deels) zwarte Afrikaan om hoger in de hierarchie te komen binnen rijken of deelrijken. Daar zijn meerdere voorbeelden van. Hetzelfde gold voor Spanjaarden en Joden. Er waren soms zelfs incidenteel invloedrijke Joden en Christenen die niet bekeerd waren. Het kwam voor dat geboren (Christelijke) Galiciërs, Noord-Castilianen, of Basken Islamitisch werden en leiding kregen over Moorse deelrijken in Zuid-Spanje met een gemengde bevolking. De tolerantie voor Joden in Moors Spanje is weleens overdreven en wisselde per rijk en vorst/leider. Er waren, naast perioden van vreedzame coexistentie (zij het met discriminerende wetgeving), wel degelijk ook pogrom-achtige acties tegen Joden - door Moslims - in Islamitisch Spanje geweest.

In het licht van dit alles is het wat simplistisch en deels incorrect om de Moren als zwarte mensen af te schilderen.

Historisch incorrect, maar goed: het is een theatraal, carnavalesk en folkloristisch kinderfeest, dus dat hoef je niet zo nauw te nemen, zou je kunnen zeggen. Ze bedoelden gewoon donkere “exotische typen”. Theater en folklore zijn echter weerslagen van de realiteit: het staat er niet los van. Een eventuele speelse draai (zoals in carnaval-tradities) kan er in latere instantie aan gegeven worden: ná een correcte weergave van de realiteit. Eerst de realiteit dán de draai: niet de draai in plaats van de realiteit. Een denkfout die naar mijn idee wel vaker wordt gemaakt.

Dat is rationeel gesteld één van de problemen van het Sinterklaas-feest: Moren waren niet echt (of slechts deels) “zwart” (hoewel donkerder dan de gemiddelde Europeaan), en Sinterklaas was niet Spaans. Maar deze geschiedkundige incorrectheden vormen uiteraard verre van het enige probleem omtrent het fenomeen Zwarte Piet.

Ik ben het regelmatig eens met wat Stephan Sanders in zijn columns en essays stelt, met name als hij hypocrisie, paternalisme en zelf-felicitatie bloot legt bij (schijn-) linkse mensen. Toch vind ik in de eerdergenoemde column van 17 november iets waar ik het mee oneens was, namelijk zijn wijzen op de “onschuld” van het feest voordat de eerste zwart geschminkte witte Nederlanders (vermoedelijk in de jaren 70 van de 20e eeuw) Creools-Surinaamse accenten gingen imiteren. Ook vóór dat imiteren was er echter een duidelijke koloniale, raciaal stereotiepe rolverdeling.

Een kritiek van Sanders luidt dat zwarte tegenstanders, zoals Quinsy Gario - die de Zwarte Piet Is Racisme-actie leidt -, Zwarte Piet te letterlijk nemen (ondanks dat Sanders de hardhandige arrestatie - zie hieronder - van Quinsy Gario in Dordrecht voor diens anti-Zwarte Piet demonstratie betreurde als ondemocratisch). Dit snijdt geen hout, want niet-letterlijk nemen lijkt mij moeilijk omdat Zwarte Piet kroeshaar heeft, in de meeste gevallen met een Surinaams accent praat, en doorgaans ook via schmink extra grote lippen krijgt.

Wel klopt denk ik Sanders’ analyse dat de connectie met reëel in Nederland bestaande zwarte mensen – met name Creoolse Surinamers - pas later, vanaf de 1970s, gemaakt werd.

In de Vrij Nederland van 24 november 2012, de week na deze column dus, schreef Stephan Sanders zijn column wederom over Sinterklaas en Zwarte Piet. De pre-Sinterklaas-periode was immers begonnen (al eind november dus). Dit maal geen relativeringen, maar een goede neutraal lijkende beschouwing van de essentie van het feest. Ook wijst hij op hoe het in de toekomst dan zou kunnen. Sanders stelt dat áls Zwarte Piet racisme is, dat dan de tegenstanders, zoals Quinsy Gario, moeten ijveren voor het wettelijk verbieden van Zwarte Piet. Daar zit in de kern wat in. Het feest kan dan een andere vorm krijgen.

(Toevallig zat ikzelf niet ver achter Quinsy Gario in oktober van 2011, zoals te zien op de foto hieronder. Deze foto is genomen in bioscoop Ketelhuis in Amsterdam, tijdens het Africa In The Picture festival. Quinsy droeg toen ook een Zwarte Piet Is Racisme t-shirt. Dit was een maand voor de eerdergenoemde arrestatie in Dordrecht (in november, 2011).

BELEDIGEND EN HYPOCRIET

Het fenomeen Zwarte Piet is, welbeschouwd, racistisch, beledigend, en ook nog eens hypocriet.

Racistisch/beledigend omdat Zwarte Piet een knecht is van een witte man (zogenaamd een “bisschop” of zelfs “goedheiligman” ook nog), wat een ongevoelige verwijzing is naar de slavernij. Zwarte Piet wordt ook vaak als dom uitgebeeld. Dom en angstwekkend: kinderen die “stout” zijn worden volgens de verhalen meegenomen in een zak naar Spanje door deze Zwarte Piet.

Stel je een voornamelijk blank dorpje in Nederland voor: waarschijnlijk de eerste verwijzingen naar “zwarte” mensen die kinderen er vernemen: een dom, raar bewegend, geforceerd pratend, maar ook eng en gevaarlijk, straffend iemand. Ik neem aan dat de lezers van mijn blog intelligent genoeg zijn om in te zien waarom dat racistisch en mogelijk schadelijk is. Voor het geval de connectie met die enkele Surinaamse mensen in dat dorp nog niet is gelegd, praten de Zwarte Pieten ook nog eens met een Surinaams accent. Mochten er Antilianen of Afrikanen in het dorp wonen in plaats van Surinamers dan kan het accent aangepast worden. Dat is wel eens gebeurd, heb ik begrepen. En dan verbaasd zijn als kinderen in zo’n plaats donkere mensen, al dan niet plagerig, “zwarte piet” gaan noemen.

De verwijzing naar de slavernij heeft een connectie met Spanje. Daarmee – en dat is wellicht iets minder evident – is er denk ik ook sprake van hypocrisie van de kant van Nederlanders.

Inderdaad had Spanje een koloniaal verleden dat hardvochtig en bloedig, onderdrukkend was. Sinds de Genueze Italiaan Columbus in Spaanse dienst Amerika “ontdekte” gingen de Spaanse veroveraars ruig en moordend te werk in de Amerika’s. Gebieden raakten zelfs deels ontvolkt van de oorspronkelijke Amerindianen. Deels onbewust door meegenomen ziekten, maar voor een flink deel ook door hardvochtig beleid en overwerken. De Spanjaarden voerden daarna Afrikaanse slaven in.

Het Sinterklaas-feest als speelse, folkloristische verwijzing naar die geschiedenis (en niet alleen naar Moors Spanje dus)? Nee. Ook dat is niet goed te praten. Simpelweg vanwege het feit dat Nederland zelf ook Afrikaanse slaven invoerde (onder meer in Suriname, Guyana, Brazilië, en de Nederlandse Antillen), en deze te werk stelden onder onmenselijke omstandigheden in de Amerika’s. Dit geschiedde zonder hulp van Spanje: dit was zelfs een concurrerende natie toen. Sterker nog: Nederland was destijds een drijvende kracht achter de modernisering en intensivering van het op slavernij gebaseerde plantage-systeem en de overgang ervan van Brazilië naar het Caraïbisch gebied.

BLACKFACE

Het fenomeen Zwarte Piet heeft een nauwelijks te vermijden connotatie met wat in de Verenigde Staten Blackface of the Minstrel traditie wordt genoemd: het karikaturaal en stereotiep afbeelden van zwarte mensen: inclusief karikaturen van accent, (vermeende) cultuur, en gedragingen. Dat was historisch niet alleen te vinden in de Verenigde Staten, maar ook in andere landen met een slavernijverleden zoals Cuba en elders in Latijns Amerika.

Interessant is om die Blackface traditie nader te beschouwen. In welke historische context ontstond het? Waarom zo? Door wie?

Het boek ‘Blackface Cuba, 1840-1895’ (2005), door Jill Lane, is wat dat betreft leerzaam. Karikaturen van Afro-Cubanen werden gangbaar in Cubaans theater, in wat Teatro Bufo werd genoemd. Net als in de Minstrel traditie in de Verenigde Staten werd het accent nagebootst, hadden als zwarten uitgebeelde acteurs domme gedragingen die soms kinderlijk “ondeugend” waren.

Opvallend genoeg kreeg deze Teatro Bufo juist een impuls ná 1840, toen de onafhankelijkheidsstrijd in Cuba tegen de Spaanse overheersers begon. Blanke Cubanen wilden wel van die Spaanse koloniale macht af, maar wilden ook de raciale hierachie in stand houden: men wilde de voormalige slaven, de Afro-Cubanen, geen illusies geven dat ze echt gelijkwaardige partners in zo’n komende, onafhankelijke natie zouden worden. Derhalve werden Afro-Cubanen als kinderlijk en dom – minder dan menselijk - uitgebeeld. Ook al zijn die Spanjaarden weg: de blanken blijven de baas: dat je dat maar weet.

Een vergelijkbaar verhuld politiek motief was er te vinden in de Minstrel/Blackface traditie in de Verenigde Staten, ook na de afschaffing van de slavernij aldaar. En overigens niet alleen in de zuidelijke staten (“Dixie”). Zwarten werden verbeeld, waarbij ze als dom en infantiel, en dus afhankelijk werden gepresenteerd. Net als in Cuba om de angst te bezweren dat ze echt gelijke rechten en mogelijkheden zouden krijgen.

Ik zag pas een zeer interessante film op YouTube, geregisseerd door Spike Lee, bekend om zijn kritische weergave van de rassenverhoudingen in de VS. De film heet Bamboozled (volledig op: http://youtu.be/KhnsaMLtQM8), en komt uit 2000. Het was een interessante - en wat merkwaardige – satirische film. Hier en daar was het ook “over the top” zou je kunnen zeggen. Hoe dan ook kan ik het aanraden aan mensen die het nog niet hebben gezien.

Een zwarte televisiemaker met een middenklasse-identificatie werkt bij een tv-station, maar kan zijn ideëen voor programma’s moeilijk slijten bij de top in het bedrijf. Te middenklasse en Cosby Show-achtig luidt het verwijt ongeveer: te weinig rauw en “echt zwart”, krijgt hij van zijn baas te horen, die ridicuul genoeg zelf blank is. Zijn reactie op deze koers van zijn baas is wat merkwaardig maar wel symbolisch. Daarin zit het “over the top” van de film ook, en het feit dat Spike Lee maatschappelijke kritiek deels vermengt met absurde humor.

Iedereen kan de film zelf zien, maar het komt hierop neer: de stereotiepe, oude Minstrel traditie wordt door deze zwarte televisiemaker van stal gehaald en alle stereotiepe rollen uit het verleden in het kwadraat bevestigd: Aunt Jemima-kleding, simpele, onverantwoordelijke en kinderlijke zwarte mensen, een band met de naam ‘Alabama Porch Monkeys’. Domme, racistische karikaturen dus. Dat is blijkbaar wat ze willen.

Kort en goed: deze show wordt wel een groot succes en zelfs een trend. Ik kan niet voor Spike Lee spreken, maar ik vermoed dat één van de boodschappen die hij met Bamboozled wilde uitdragen was dat zwarte mensen niet als volwaardig en gelijkwaardig worden gezien door in ieder geval de media (en de maatschappij), en afhankelijk blijven van blanke, stereotiepe oordelen.

PARALLEL?

Ik wil geen parallel trekken met Zwarte Piet. Alhoewel, ik wil dat eigenlijk wel. Dat de Zwarte Piet-discussie als vervelend wordt ervaren door “gewone” blanke Nederlanders wijst op onbegrip of gebrek aan kennis onder deze groep. Het bewuste negeren ervan door blanke Nederlanders met meer macht dan die “gewone” Nederlanders is echter nog erger.

Het betekent dat men in Nederland niet klaar is voor de gelijkwaardigheid van zwarte mensen in Nederland. Die horen hier óf niet te zijn, óf afhankelijk te zijn van “ons”, blanke Nederlanders. Als (verhulde) tweederangsburgers. Dat is wat de Zwarte Piet-traditie uitdraagt. Vooral het stevig vasthouden eraan.

Maak ik het wellicht te zwaar? Blaas ik een wellicht verwijtbare maar marginale folkloristische traditie teveel op? Dat kan zijn, ware het niet dat ik het toch symptomatisch acht voor de schijn-tolerantie ten opzichte van “de exotische ander” in de Nederlandse samenleving. Hoewel er veel mogelijkheden zijn voor zwarte mensen in Nederland, en op papier (grotendeels) gelijke rechten, zijn er toch nare, terugkerende signalen.

Ik kan het boek en de film 'Alleen Maar Nette Mensen' noemen, waarop naar mijn inzicht terechte kritiek gegeven is op de (soms ronduit racistische) stereotiepen over Surinaamse vrouwen (en mannen) in Amsterdam-Zuidoost, maar die kritiek wordt op dezelfde manier afgedaan als de Zwarte Piet-discussie (“dat gezeur weer”, het is maar een film/fictie). Het gebrek aan een goed articulerende, middenklasse, en (“cultureel Nederlands”:) nuchter en rustig pratende “woordvoerder” - a la Henk Krol of Ronnie Naftaniel - om kritiek op de film te geven, was er daarbij niet. Of werd niet (genoeg) aan het woord gelaten in de media.

Dat laatste is niet al te verwonderlijk wanneer men beseft dat in de Nederlandse media “niet-westerse allochtonen” nogal ondervertegenwoordigd zijn. Ulbe Bosma geeft aan in zijn artikel ‘Why Is There No Postcolonial Debate In The Netherlands?’, verschenen in de bundel ‘Post-colonial immigrants and identity formations in the Netherlands’ (Amsterdam University Press, 2012), dat halverwege de jaren 90 van de 20ste eeuw van de werknemers de Nederlandse media zo’n 1% van de werknemers in de media “niet-Westers allochtoon” was tegenover 10% van de gehele bevolking. (Wat betreft universiteiten, en de hogere regionen in het bedrijfsleven en politiek, had Bosma geen cijfers voor handen, maar vermoedt eenzelfde ondervertegenwoordiging). Bosma wijst op enkele successen van het multiculturele beleid in Nederland sinds de jaren 80, zoals wat betreft politieke participatie en burgerschap. Hij stelt echter ook:

“but in terms of allowing cultural diversity into how the nation presents and perceives itself, the performance of the Netherlands is rather bleak”…

Folklore, kinderfeest, cultuur/film, media.. maar ook de wetenschap. Het wetenschappelijk instituut ‘t NINSEE (Nationaal Instituut Nederlands Slavernijverleden En Erfenis) was ooit in 2002 begonnen door zwarte Nederlanders om het Nederlandse slavernijverleden vanuit een ander, zwart perspectief meer aandacht te geven. Terecht, kun je betogen, en zelfs als men dat niet vindt blijft het een democratisch recht. Het NINSEE is kort geleden (augustus 2012) alweer opgeheven, of grotendeels ontmandeld. Dit nadat de rijksoverheid - vanaf het begin een opmerkelijk intimiderend blok aan het been van dit instituut - de subsidie introk. Het zou zogenaamd niets toevoegen aan bestaande wetenschap over slavernij en had zogenaamd niet het vereiste niveau. Het NINSEE heeft een kort en liefdeloos leven gehad. Zo pijnlijk is het.

Het vasthouden aan de Zwarte Piet traditie is derhalve symptomatisch voor een breder probleem in de Nederlandse samenleving: namelijk dat zwarte mensen - nog steeds - niets te zeggen hebben in Nederland, zelfs niet als ze zelf het onderwerp zijn. Ik kan dat geen volwaardig burgerschap noemen..

The Amsterdam reggae scene (2012)

The topic surrounded me all the while. It came and went, while lingering around. I encountered it as I made my way. It was both relevant and present. It was part of my reality. I did not ignore it, neither did I take it for granted..I just lived it. Almost the same as that you do not think all the time of your breathing, while that is the proof that you are alive. It’s just there. Yet, I have as yet not taken up writing about it.
Until now.

REGGAE SCENE

I am talking about the reggae scene in my hometown, Amsterdam, in the Netherlands. More specifically, the state of it in the present (2012). I have written about the reggae scene of Bristol on this blog, the English city with about 450.000 inhabitants. On the Bristol reggae scene a CD, or actually by now a series of CDs, have appeared, compiling songs of Bristol reggae artists. Amsterdam has more inhabitants than Bristol, the city itself at present about 790.000. Moreover: Amsterdam also has a substantial reggae scene.

Related to Jamaican migrants and other (colonial) connections with Jamaica, the English/British reggae scene may be somewhat older and bigger than elsewhere in Europe. This must however not be “inflated”. Since the 1970s especially, several other countries in Europe have an extensive reggae fan base as well, and “reggae scenes”, some maybe more than others: including at least France, Italy, Germany, and yes, the Netherlands. All these countries have also local reggae artists, consisting mostly of black people, but even of local white people (similar to Britain).

DEMOGRAPHICS

In this light something I wrote in the post on Bristol is relevant here. Amsterdam is one of the capitals of Europe with the highest percentage of people of sub-Saharan African origin (including of course Afro-Caribbean people). Reggae is black music and still particularly popular in the Caribbean region and Africa. Along with migrants from Suriname - a former Dutch colony - or the Dutch Caribbean islands, black people in Amsterdam also consist quite substantially of people migrated from sub-Saharan Africa, relatively most from Ghana, but from other countries as well. Afro-Surinamese migrants started coming to Amsterdam in higher numbers since the 1970s.

Amsterdam’s (geographically) somewhat suburban quarter called Amsterdam Zuidoost (Amsterdam South East) came to house relatively many of the Afro-Surinamese and other Caribbean migrants as well as, in a later stage, migrants from Africa. This makes it a quarter, with now about 90.000 inhabitants, with a majority – estimated at about 70% - of black inhabitants. It gave it an image somewhat like the Amsterdam version of Brixton (London) or Handsworth (Birmingham): the black neighbourhood. Though like all such images this is partly exaggerated.

REGGAE “CLUBS”

Reggae is relatively popular in Amsterdam South East, but it is not confined to it. That idea would be too simplistic. Formal bars, clubs, and also the “coffeeshops” (places where marijuana can be bought) for which Amsterdam is internationally known, are in number actually relatively limited in this outer, residential quarter. It does have a Black Music record shop, with much reggae albums and related material, called Pico. It survived the digital age, but barely. I checked the collection of reggae CDs not too long ago (September 2012), and it was not too comprehensive, though a good selection. But I guess this decrease is similar to other still existing record shops in a time of overwhelming digital downloading.

The sleeve notes on the first compilation CD of ‘The Bristol reggae explosion’, said something interesting about reggae-minded clubs in Bristol. That is that of the three reggae-minded clubs before there (1970s/1980s) only one at present remains (in 2010s). The term “reggae-minded clubs” speaks I think for itself: a club where they often (that is: regularly) play reggae music, often with dee-jays or sound systems: you done know.

Now this provides a good comparison point. How many of such reggae-minded clubs are there at present in Amsterdam? More than the one of Bristol? I would say yes. There are a few reggae-minded clubs in Amsterdam, as I write this now in 2012. Especially when you define “reggae-minded club” as I did before, as well as by taking the word “club” loosely. The difference between a bar, a coffeeshop, or a “club” is not always that clear.

Using a strict – but not too strict - definition I would say there are now four (strongly) reggae-minded clubs in Amsterdam, as I write this (late 2012). Sources: own experience, conversations, and research (on the Internet mainly).

Club Caprice (several times a week dee-jays play dancehall and, somewhat less frequent, roots); Brasil Music bar (though dubious: only Tuesday and focussed on dancehall); Café Frontline (relatively more New Roots and roots reggae); Frontline has actually several times a week, including the weekend!, reggae dee-jay’s/selecters: now we’re talking. These 3 places are all in the city centre.

Then on the East side is worthy of mention definitely Café the Zen, a few kilometres East of the Central Station, so not too far from the city centre. The Zen also tends to have several days a week reggae-deejays and even concerts at times. The focus seems (like in Café Frontline) a bit more on New Roots and roots reggae, but dancehall is also played.

I have been to most of these places/clubs. Besides these venues with regular reggae, concert halls in Amsterdam (Melkweg, Paradiso) of course also have occasional reggae concerts, and some other places have occasional reggae nights/dee jays, but not in a regular sense.

Then there are a few coffeeshops in Amsterdam that mainly play reggae music. There are over a hundred of coffeeshops in Amsterdam’s city centre alone, and these free places for smoking marijuana have a predictable connection with reggae. This is not always the case though. Reggae is played on occasion in most coffeeshops, but variated mostly with pop, funk or other genres. Some rarely play reggae.

The few coffeeshops that only play reggae or dancehall are unfortunately no longer in business, as I write this. Up to a few years ago there still were a few. It is a volatile economic sector..
I've also heard about the Easy Times coffeeshop before this, near the Leidseplein in Amsterdam’s city centre. Easy Times almost had a mythical, legendary status among reggae fans, especially among the ganja smokers among them. Many spoke to me in nostalgic terms about it. Strictly reggae, dee-jays, sound systems, “keeping it real”, while under a a marijuana scent and smoke. That must have been a special, magical reggae place. About 12 years ago, however, it was bought by a non-reggae-minded owner. It changed drastically soon after.

In conclusion: unfortunately there are no (full) “reggae clubs” in Amsterdam at this moment (late 2012), in the sense of a place totally devoted to reggae and/or dancehall and exclusively playing it the whole week. Yet there are a few reggae-minded clubs with reggae – taken in combination - on most days of the week (notably Frontline and Cafe the Zen).

Having been to several of these clubs - regularly in some cases – I wonder what the one remaining reggae- or reggae-minded club in Bristol would be like. I did not have the chance to visit it when I went to Bristol in 2011. Maybe dee-jays/selecters and sound systems also play, or live acts perform, on occasion in several (also normally non-reggae-minded) clubs, as is also the case in Amsterdam.

Even if so, both in Amsterdam and Bristol the “venue volume” is relatively little, reflective of reggae’s troubled relation to the “mainstream” culture. Reggae is not mainstream, it stays outside it. Yet it has overall quite some fans, in Bristol and in Amsterdam. These fans have to rely on indirect and mostly informal sources and ways to find the reggae-minded places in their hometown. Tourists – Amsterdam attracts many tourists - have also asked me about reggae places in Amsterdam.

The number of reggae-minded venues seems to a degree satisfactory, but in a sense “by default”, as if it goes against the grain of popular culture. In the year 2012 reggae still remains an “alternative” culture within Amsterdam. That while Amsterdam’s liberal, coffeeshop image makes some think that it is like a “Jamaica of Europe”. That is exaggerated, though I like some aspects of Amsterdam, and I think separating soft and hard drugs - and quasi-legalizing soft-drugs - is overall a wise, thoughtful policy, even non-smokers should realize.

Okay: we discussed the locales, the places. Now let’s go the another crucial component of a reggae scene: the people.

REGGAE PEOPLE

The mentioned clubs and bars and (and coffeeshops) that are reggae-minded are in most cases owned – at least in part – by Surinamese people. We thus go back to the Amsterdam demographics earlier in this post. From my experience and acquired knowledge I can tell that a large part of the Amsterdam reggae scene: people who frequent the mentioned clubs, go to reggae concerts or other reggae events, are also Afro-Surinamers. Probably because their Afro-Caribbean culture and history of slavery share several similarities with Jamaica. Even the Creole languages in Suriname have certain similarities with Jamaican patois. Among these Surinamese reggae fans a large part is also Rastafari-adhering, to differing degrees.

Not all reggae fans in Amsterdam are however Surinamers, of course: these include also local Dutch and/or Amsterdam people, other migrants or of migrant descent (like I-man), reggae-loving tourists from various countries, and relatively many sub-Saharan Africans. Reggae is after all very popular in Africa.

Reggae audiences in Amsterdam tend to be consequently mixed in most cases, but just as often majoritarian black or Surinamese. White guys or girls among these crowds are however not a rare sight on such occasions: they are not even necessarily “lost” or “experimenting”: they can be reggae fans for years, even without connections to Surinamese people.

Reggae fans in Amsterdam are overall interracial, but there is at the same time taken as a whole a connection between the fact that Amsterdam is one of the capitals in Europe with most people of sub-Saharan African origin, and the fact that its reggae scene is mostly racially black: that “fits” somehow culturally and sociologically. It can be seen as predictable, but also as authentic: it’s how you look at it. The other way around would be just plain odd.

Now I am talking about reggae fans: people who enjoy and dance to reggae music. A (-no disrespect to good dancers!-) mostly “passive” interest, you might say. But what about people making reggae themselves?

REGGAE PERFORMERS AND ARTISTS

This is another component of a reggae scene: musicians, artists making reggae. I will define this broader. I will in this case also include “selecters”: people who play music by others with a few vocal additions and some effects. These are called in the Netherlands (and elsewhere) “dee-jays”, but in Jamaica – as some may know – dee-jay refers more to a vocalist (or: toaster): one who “rides” or vocally “versions” the music/riddim, rather than primarily just puts it on a turn table or in a CD player.

So I will include musical groups, artists, dee jays and even selecters under the broad category Reggae Performers. Needless to say: this is mostly a subgroup of the previous category Reggae People. Selecters tend to be of different origins, but among them there are also relatively many Surinamers, often playing in the clubs mentioned before.

Are Surinamese people further strongly represented among Amsterdam reggae acts? The answer is yes, as is maybe to be expected. Again, this must not be exaggerated. It is a good sign that it fits the public. That means reggae is music by the people and for the people. There are however also reggae acts – or aspiring ones – that are African in origin, and also white Dutch or something else. An Amsterdammer who got famous on a popular talent show on television (The Voice of Holland) is a dreadlocked reggae singer, Lenny Keylard, who is white, with some Asian (Indonesian) blood. He says he makes “melodic reggae”. I find his tunes here and there a bit too poppy to my taste, but I like some of his songs as well, and he definitely shows songwriting talent.

Leah Rosier is a Dutch, Amsterdammer lady reggae singer who has gotten more active recently, officially releasing an album through common distribution channels. She collaborated for instance with Marlon Asher on a nice tune on Amsterdam. Her style is quite original, roots-influenced, but I also assume an early dancehall influence (Half Pint, Barrington Levy, Michael Prophet and others). Though I think she herself can better tell about influences on her.

Leah is not ashamed or hesitant to connect herself openly and in public outings with marijuana smoking and, relatedly, Amsterdam’s “coffeeshop culture”. An interesting difference with Lenny Keylard who chose on his debut album (‘Jah Is The Remedy Love Is The Cure’) not to make references to marijuana (for perpetuating clichés?).

Other more settled reggae acts from Amsterdam tend to be mostly of Surinamese origin indeed (partly with a connection with Amsterdam South East). With "settled" I mean artists who are actually recording, producing albums, or at least songs, for the market, and who tour regularly.

There is besides this a large grey area of home-made recordings put on CD and sold on the street, or – less commercial - simply made public on the internet. Home recordings and musical experiments put on YouTube or Soundcloud or other "share sites" are not on the market, seldom official (legally correct and marketed), but are not necessarily crappy. Even if the sound quality is not too far behind what studios can accomplish: you however often will search in vain on i-Tunes, or Amazon for instance. Neither can you find their albums on CD to buy on e.g. Amazon or in stores.

Monetary, legal, and practical hindrances make that such aspiring reggae artists or those with only limited official output - or marketing - in Amsterdam, outnumber the fewer "bigger", settled, and well-organized artists having an official album or more on the market. Of the latter I can, besides the mentioned Lenny Keylard or Leah Rosier, also name the talented Surinamese artist Joggo (little brother of football player Clarence Seedorf). He can write good, rootsy songs and has a good singing voice.

Other Amsterdam reggae artists I have seen perform live include Kenny B, Barka Moeri (New Roots), Rass Motivated, KaliBwoy (Dancehall) and others. These seem not to put out much material on the market. Barka Moeri has certain talents, good songs, and I experienced he can be a good live performer. Nonetheless, I only found about one song of Barka Moeri on sale for digital download. Yet he seemed to have put out albums in the past: not for sale digitally apparently. Maybe KaliBwoy’s time will still come (he won a national, Dutch pop price I heard, in the dancehall/reggae category) but only a few songs are “out there” to buy from KaliBwoy. He does tour and perform though. Ziggi Recado is one of the other more talented, and settled, Dutch reggae artists: but he is based mainly in Rotterdam now, not Amsterdam. So he is at least partly in another scene.

Another Amsterdam reggae artist I also have to mention: yours truly. Let me introduce myself: I’m Michel Conci. I have recently put a song on the market, recorded with a producer in an Amsterdam (Amsterdam South East) full-fledged studio, called the Dubcellar. It can be considered my official debut single. The producer is multi-instrumentalist Robert Curiel, and he made and produced the music. Curiel has been long involved with several especially Dutch reggae- and ska-acts (not confined to Amsterdam). The vocal song I recorded is originally mine. The song is called ‘Rastafari Live On’. It is legally done right and on sale through common (digital!) distribution/download channels, all over the world.

I own the copyright, and have distribution channels, but not a label behind me. The latter means that I have to do all promotion myself. Internet offers possibilities though. Meanwhile I have made a promo for my official debut single, and also one in – believe it or not – Japanese, for the Japanese market. These can be seen on my YouTube channel.

This debut single followed on many years of my practicing: in writing songs, melody and rhythm, musical structures, singing, and creating vocal parts, sometimes on existing riddims, sometimes public (not for commercial gain thus legal). I have actually put several songs of mine (mostly on existing Jamaican riddims) already on YouTube. Of most I feel satisfied - else I would not make it public - but they are not really "official": regarding sound quality or copyright for sale. Yet they are public: some songs of mine published before prove popular. Party Tonight on a riddim once used for a Dennis Brown song but dating back to rocksteady from the 1960s - is for instance much viewed in Romania (for some reason...). Some were surprised that I could actually sing (e.g. on Revelation Revealing), though the song was mixed - I admit - inadequately. Also my early song Ideology was appreciated by some people internationally, as was my Lutan Fyah-esque half-toasting, half-singing song Made You Crazy, and other songs. I give thanks.

People who want to assess my songwriting - and vocal - skills for these "unofficial yet public songs" can check these and other songs on my YouTube channel ( http://www.youtube.com/MichelConci)

I leave the opinion of my more official song Rastafari Live On to others. If you feel the need to share your opinion I would prefer that you combine it with something called “argumentation”, but that is up to you.

So this makes that by now – in late 2012 - I am in more than one sense part of the Amsterdam reggae scene. I in fact have belonged to that scene for years before this debut single though. Actually for at least the 10 years I almost live in Amsterdam now.

I am not a “group thinker”, yet I was already all these years part of the reggae scene, at least mentally. In that sense my debut single Rastafari Live On is more an “outcome” than anything else. Also this song’s lyrics are a sort of “conclusion” I drew: on the importance of Rastafari for me and my life. As I Wayne sang “Rastafari is life and of this I’m sure”..

I can also quote from another song, the Mighty Diamonds’ 'Reggae Man': “I’m the reggae man, try to understand…”.

James Brown and reggae

‘The One : the life and music of James Brown’ (published in 2012) is a biography on James Brown: it digs deep, while staying humorous. It’s loose yet serious. Engagingly written: partly anecdotic but without losing sight of the bigger story and themes. In other words: it’s a kind of biography I like. Now, it is a fact that I have a liking and strong personal interest for certain biographies, and of course especially of musicians I like the work of, but there may be writers out there able to mess up an interesting life story with poor writing or the wrong (research) priorities. This was not the case with this well-written biography.

PSYCHOLOGY

It was engagingly written, and the author, R.J. Smith, seems to have a particular interest for individual psychology of especially Brown, as well as persons around him. He describes this well. Smith is in my opinion less successful in this work in evoking visual images: description of specific places, or venues, landscapes, cityscapes and such. He seems more internally than externally focused. This tips the balance to good writing more than enough, however, so as to engage me throughout. He does this also with a good sense of humour. The inner life and behaviour of Brown, and how this relates to his life philosophy, provide an intriguing read. This is also the case because I knew some things about Brown, heard before through other media: controversies in his life, conflicts with other musicians, his strict discipline for his band, trouble with the law, his controversial support of President Nixon and in part the Republicans, and his belief in do-it-yourself capitalism.

In this book this is put adequately in the proper, broader context. This starts with his growing up in the racially segregated South as relatively dark-skinned, and in poverty, as well as amidst criminals. Indeed Brown himself got involved in petty crime (stealing) as well, and spent as a youngster time in detention. Brown’s growing up and rearing by his family seemed to have variated between negligence, discipline, and violence. Less constant and present were love and lasting care: this must have formed him. More than cynical, this made him distrustful (which is not the same).

SELF-ASSURED

I think that in Brown’s youth a foundation was laid for a crucial - and widely known - trait of Brown: his well-developed ego. His later monikers – most probably coined by himself – “the Hardest Working Man in Show Business” (the adding of “in show business” makes it actually kind of funny..), “Godfather of Soul”, “Soul Brother Number One”, and more, further attest to this. You can call it self-assured, or boastful, even megalomania, but what it essentially comes down to is this: survival. This book made this clear: survival physically, but as well survival of his personhood, of his basic dignity: always threatened to be denied by people around him, both white and black.

Jamaican thinker Marcus Garvey - the early Black Power activist - said that: “Without confidence in self you are twice defeated in the race of life. With confidence you have won even before you have started”. This seems to apply to James Brown. Smith mentions Marcus Garvey further in this work as well. He compares Brown in a sense with Garvey in relation to the several business ventures that Brown started, but that failed due to his mistrust of others he worked with. Smith sees a similarity with Garvey’s ambitious Black Star Liner project in the 1920s, that ultimately also failed.

I think that in line with his other character traits, Brown was indeed often distrustful of people around him. This also developed in his younger days, I suppose. Due to this mistrust, he did not think equal relationships with people would fulfil his personhood, but rather destroy or limit it. Illustrative of this is his expression “Jump back, I wanna kiss myself”. He repeated this in songs and on stage (and was parodied by Eddy Murphy). Brown felt saver detached – and above – other people: above both white and black people.

This was not in any way out of racial shame: neither did he see the white man as more than him, so he had some genuine Black Power ideas “avant la lettre” (the term as such was popularized in the later 1960s by the Black Panthers and Stokeley Carmichael). This was, however, in a very individualistic way: Brown was not a group or collectivist thinker.

At a later stage, when he had become more famous, he put himself on the same level – mentally – as the president of the US. He did not know his place. I myself tend to admire to a degree people going against the grain, ready to face consequences by not knowing their place, not doing what is expected of them. This was also admirable in Brown, and also the reason why he had so much musical influence. For the genres soul as well as funk he was a crucial originating figure, precisely because he took new routes to distinguish himself as a musician.

RHYTHM

A very important, much-used term in this book is “rhythm”. James Brown’s music was relatively rhythm-focussed, and he was also stimulating this, by introducing innovations over time: the accent on the One (of 4/4) for musicians, and the importance of drums. Brown in time started to use two, not one, drummers and two drum kits, on stage and for recording, complementing each other. Related to this is his strong passion for dancing, since he was a child, even performing at a young age as a dancer. It helped make him more self-assured. Just like confidence, dance and music helped him “survive”. The three were interrelated.

The dancing is an interesting parallel with what I read in another biography, by David Katz: of reggae legend Lee “Scratch” Perry (which I discussed elsewhere on this blog, see post of August, 2012). Like Brown, Perry was also a dancer as a youth – even winning dance contests – before he really entered the music business of Jamaica. You know how to make good music - with good rhythms - when you know how to dance to it. Self-evident but nonetheless a truth.

Like in other biographies of musicians, Smith refers to specific songs and their creative context and specific historic importance. That is good reading. Today, with YouTube, these can also be easily checked, adding extra value. He points at songs of Brown considered “early or pre-funk”, songs that pioneered Brown’s rhythmic focus, the latter being his hit song ‘Out of Sight’ from 1964. That song still had some Rhythm & Blues (R&B) characteristics, but also meant a shift. It was in turn a forebode to his even “funkier” song ‘Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag’ (1965).

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JAMES BROWN AND REGGAE

I am primarily a reggae fan myself. I have been so for over 25 years now. This does not mean that it was all I listened too during that time, of course. I listened to some James Brown songs and albums, and liked the funky grooves and soulful singing. There was also some hip-hop I liked, that often recycled elements of James Brown’s music. These share with reggae that they are Black Music genres, but there are more connections between James Brown and reggae.

In the recent biography of Brown by Smith this is not ignored. Smith says on the matter that Bob Marley asked producer Lee “Scratch” Perry to make him sound like James Brown, apparently influencing Jamaican musicians by then (the 1970s). No conflict there, I think, because in David Katz’s biography of Perry it was mentioned that James Brown was also one of the heroes of Perry himself. Before this, also some Jamaican drummers and others since the 1960s were influenced partly by James Brown’s music. Not that surprising in light of the continuous influence from US Black Music on ska, rocksteady, and reggae. While earlier soul groups like the Impressions influenced some Jamaican artists, the edgier, groovy funk influenced other artists later, especially after reggae originated in 1968.

In my previous blog I mentioned that an Afro-Jamaican (percussive) base was another strong influence on Jamaican music. This is one of the reasons that it is wrong to see reggae or other Jamaican genres as Caribbean offshoots of US Black Music. They stand as original by themselves, while absorbing partly some R&B, soul, and funk influences. These were however creatively absorbed in a Caribbean/Jamaican musical context.

That being said: the connections with other, US, Black music genres remained important: related to ethnicity, language, a shared history of slavery, culture, or comparable social positions. Significantly in this light: while blues and rhythm & blues from the South of the US were also popular among the Jamaican populace in the 1950s, when the (“whiter"/country-influenced) offshoot rock & roll became more popular in the US, Jamaicans lost interest and developed their own styles/genres, loosely based on R & B, along with Afro-Jamaican music etcetera: thus they originated ska, to begin with, around 1960. And the rest is history...

Interest in US Black music later shifted among Jamaicans to some soul, and later funk: including James Brown. It is essentially a black connection. Also James Brown’s ‘I’m Black and I’m proud’ message resonated well with the conscious-minded reggae of the Roots Reggae era since around 1972. James Brown influenced a part of the “feel”, more extrovert, of reggae and roots reggae, also musically. I notice this in a funky feel in some songs by different artists. There are however not too many James Brown covers I know of in reggae. I know of some Marvin Gaye covers in reggae, of songs of the Impressions, Curtis Mayfield, other soul singers, for some reason several of Bob Dylan, even of Elvis Presley, and others, but not so much of James Brown. Yet, Brown’s influence was there.

I notice this influence – to give an example - in the musically somewhat funky song ‘Jah Jah gonna get you’ by the Twinkle Brothers, from their album Rasta Pon Top (1975). It has a groove similar to many of James Brown’s tunes.. Funny how lead singer Norman Grant even seems to include some James Brown-ish “screams” into the vocals, but that may be coincidence..

Smith in his biography on Brown also mentions how the record presses of King Records - used for James Brown songs - were after King Records was sold, shipped off to and bought by interested parties in Jamaica: so there is also a musical “hardware” connection.

Interestingly, Smith also wrote that the entire subject of James Brown’s influence on reggae is worthy of a lengthy essay by itself. I for one would be very interested in reading such an essay, which could be written for instance by a reggae historian like David Katz, or by others. Most of what I know about it I wrote in broad lines in this essay you are reading right now. There is probably enough to unearth on this matter for a more detailed study.

In any case: overall I found R.J. Smith’s 2012 biography ‘The One : the life and music of James Brown’ to be a good read: as informative as it is entertaining.

The One : the life and music of James Brown: RJ Smith. – 455 p. – New York : Gotham Books, 2012. ISBN: 978-1592406579