Ska Vengers

Ska Vengers, Rum Shack Glasgow 2 September 2017

From India with Dub

A ska band from Delhi? Are they just a novelty act doing cover versions with a sitar thrown in? Far from it, this band of young, gifted musicians with their original songs and two charismatic lead stars demonstrate a solid foundation in the history of Jamaican music, not just ska but mixing it up with dub, raggamuffin styles and a serious lyrical consciousness. And why the hell wouldn’t they, as ska and reggae has spread all over the world, India could not miss out. After all, let’s not forget the involvement of musicians, producers and artists of mixed Asian heritage since the early days of the Jamaican recording industry from Ken Khouri and Jackie Mittoo to Supercat. There were always plenty of Asian people into reggae and ska, but they may not have seen themselves represented on stage in the original Two Tone movement. Things have moved on since then of course, from Neville Staple’s work with Johnny Zee and Stereo Nation in the nineties, right up to the Patel Brothers of The Frightnrs. So it’s really not a big deal, I’m going to shut up about it now. The Ska Vengers had a tough act to follow, taking the stage after raucous local favourites Esperanza (what? - white Scottish people can play ska too?), and last week’s nostalgic love-in in the park with Misty in Roots and Aswad still fresh in the Glaswegian memory. The front two combine the style and energy of Pauline Black with the fire and attitude of Apache Indian to an urgent backing featuring blazing horns section, rollicking basslines and chopping guitars reminiscent of The Beat. Their own songs like ‘Kick Up Rumpus’ and ‘Gunshot’ and ‘Vampires’ keep the pace moving alongside versions of ‘I Put A Spell On You’ and ‘No, No, No’. Just as you think this might be too familiar territory, they draw out ‘Frank Brazil’, the story of a 1930s Indian revolutionary who assassinated a British officer responsible for colonial massacres. Their unique take on reggae foundation rhythm ‘Rockfort Rock’ brings it back to its Cuban roots and then takes it away to turn into ‘Redfort Rock’. All these infectious sounds and intriguing stories were still flying around my head by the time they had to go, to be followed by Delhi Sultanate taking over the decks, dripping with sweat from his performance, to fling down some dubplates from the likes of Johnny Osborne, Shabba Ranks and Barrington Levy to show they have not just come around in this reggae thing but are steeped in it. Their two albums (available on Spotify, Amazon, i-Tunes, etc.) are well worth repeated listens once you get home to let the lyrics sink in after the deceptively catchy tunes have drawn you in to skank to their live performances. And if you get a chance to catch them at Bestival tomorrow, or next time they come to the UK, don’t miss them. One love.

Aswad, Reggae Against Racism preview

I could hardly contain my excitement at the news that the mighty Aswad headline the Reggae Against Racism concert at Queens Park next Sunday, alongside British reggae stalwarts Misty In Roots and Black Roots. In fact, I could not contain it so I wrote it down. So, what does Aswad mean to me? For some, the name may conjure up three dapper dreads on Top of the Pops performing their smooth number one hit, ‘Don’t Turn Around’. Some may recall their epic, era-defining sets on the Glastonbury Pyramid stage in the early eighties. Others may consider them synonymous with the heyday of the Notting Hill Carnival, providing the soundtrack live and direct as parties and occasional battles raged into the late August night. Smart alecs like me may point out the word ‘aswad’ means black in Amharic and argue about how to pronounce it. They are indeed all of these things and more, and an essential part of British reggae history.  I first became aware of Aswad around the time of the ‘Rebel Souls’ album in 1985, bursting out of the cover like they had just arrived from another planet. But they had already been going an impossible ten years by then, since they formed at school in west London. Even at such a young age, their unique sound and potential was obvious to some. When Bob Marley had some time on his hands in London in 1977, he turned to them for help as backing musicians and singers to re-record ‘Keep on Moving’. Tunes like ‘Back to Africa’, ‘It’s Not Our Wish’ and ‘Three Babylon’ expressed the feelings and frustrations of a young black British generation struggling against NF thugs, police brutality and discrimination, foretelling the anger that was to boil over in the streets. They immediately found a home on stage alongside the likes of The Clash, Stiff Little Fingers and Misty in Roots, in the original Rock Against Racism concerts. By the time I first saw them live at the Brixton Academy in 1987, they had carved their own names in reggae history with a faithful following and international renown.  Their songs sounded even better live than on record, as they developed a versatile style, blending roots with lovers rock and bubbling with the beat of the dancehall. They continued to conjure up magic with songs like ‘Roots Rocking’ and ‘Need Your love’ followed by the album, ‘To The Top’. Which is exactly where their next hit took them, as a surprising cover of a Tina Turner B-side built on the reputation they had earned from so many years of touring and so many sales in the reggae charts, catapulted them to number one and captured a whole new audience.  This led them into unchartered territory for a British reggae band, with new pressures and demands, but albums like ‘Too Wicked’ and ‘Rise and Shine’ maintained their high standards for a new era before they split. It won’t be quite the same without Brinsley Forde, of course, but they had a reunion a few years ago for Island’s 50^th anniversary, so maybe a concerted campaign on social media can persuade them to get back together for this special occasion commemorating forty years of Rock Against Racism. So don’t miss this chance to see them live and direct. One love.

Bass Warrior

I can’t say that I knew Kenneth ‘Bass Warrior’ Osborne well, but was shocked and saddened to learn of his passing after a short illness, and my heartfelt sympathy goes out to his family and friends. I was introduced to Kenneth a few years ago, as the man who ran the sound for most of the reggae gigs in Glasgow and beyond. We would always exchange a few words and I hope he knew how much I appreciated his dedication and love of the music. He was always humble and unflappable, whether warming up the session for the likes of Chronnix and Macka B, or laying down dubs PA style for legends like Little Roy or Johnny Clarke, and playing out in all weathers at community events like Govan Fair.  I must admit that when I first moved up to Scotland, I was worried that I might not be able to hear my favourite tunes busting out of a big old sound system ever again. Growing up in London and spending time in Manchester, it never took that much effort to listen to reggae, as it was all around, thanks to Daddy Ernie, David Rodigan, Frontline Radio and many more. Of course, there’s a reggae scene in every major city in the world, and Glasgow is no exception. But I’m a bit fussy; I’m not that into dub, love Studio One, like a bit of roots, I’m a sucker for some soppy lovers rock, only got the stamina for just the right amount of dancehall, I’m a bit stuck in the eighties but I like to keep up to date with the new stuff out of Jamaica, and even a bit partial to a sudden blast of soca and soul. And Kenny had it all in abundance, with great taste and a natural touch for judging the mood of the crowd and mixing things up to keep everyone happy and moving. He was one of those DJs who seem to have not only raided my record collection, playing tunes I forgot I had and the ones that got away, but also introducing me to new sounds played the way they were meant to be heard, with mighty basslines trembling through the floor and moving through your structure and straight to your heart. He made me feel right at home, while his links and friendships all across Europe and the Caribbean helped put Scotland on the reggae map. One love, Kenny, you will be sorely missed and the Scottish reggae scene will never be the same without you.

Frankie Paul

Growing up and falling in love with reggae in the eighties, I couldn’t help the faint feeling that I’d missed out on the golden era. Of course I loved the likes of Dennis and Gregory who were still making great music, but the heyday of some of these giants was behind them. The temptation was to spend all my time and money digging out the classics to educate myself in the foundations of reggae. But then again I knew there was a huge amount of amazing fresh music all around me, but it somehow lacked an individual personality to get a hold on. Then I gradually became aware of Jamaica’s Stevie Wonder, Frankie ‘Dancehall’ Paul, and I came to appreciate one of the true superstars of the eighties. Even then it took me a while to get him. Listening to Tony Williams run down the reggae charts, there would often be three or four FP singles in the top 20 at any one time. Which one to buy with my pocket money? Maybe I should get an album, but wait, he’s got three albums out this year, all with two or three standout tracks. And ‘Alesha’ is on the same riddim as Half Pint’s ‘Greetings’, which one do I buy? Do I need to buy Sarah, when it’s been at number one in the reggae charts for 13 weeks and on radio all the time? Now I realise how lucky we were, spoilt for choice and I should have got a Saturday job to fund my trips to Dub Vendor. Back then with my adolescent preoccupation with originality, I would have a slight feeling of disappointment when I discovered some of his songs were covers and all the others were written by this P. Blake guy! I eventually cottoned on this was the real name of the man himself, and found out he was a hugely talented multi-instrumentalist and songwriter, penning stone cold classics like ‘Worries In The Dance’, ‘Shub In’ and ‘I Know The Score’. Even his cover versions were often unrecognisable from the originals, as he added so much of himself and I came to look forward to his take on a soul hit, like ‘Casanova’. His peerless selection of tunes came from a unexpected variety of sources, some of them untraceable to me in the pre-internet days, (just listened to the original of ‘So Soon We Change’ for the first time and I definitely still prefer Frankie’s version), and was a reflection of his wide knowledge of music and unstoppable love of singing, and an essential ingredient to his prolific role in the reggae industry of the time. He had an amazing range, was well known for love songs, which were perfect for a teenager in love like me, featuring on every mixtape I ever gave to a girl. But he also had a gift for social comment that conjured up the trials and tribulations of everyday life in Kingston in ‘Tidal Wave’ and ‘Fire De A Mus Mus Tail’, as well as a spiritual side with songs like ‘Songs of Freedom’ and ‘Never Give Up’. Seeing him in concert he was like a human jukebox, and in interviews, jingles and spoken intros to records we got to know his range of mimicry and impressions, zooming around like a radio dial. It was impossible to keep up with him, as he continued making records into the nineties, noughties and 2010s, even as his health began to deteriorate. Even now, I listen to the tribute shows on mixcloud and 1xtra I discover classics that are brand new to me, while nearly all the others are cherished favourites from my collection, thanks to Daddy Ernie and David Rodigan for introducing me to them back in the day. We’ll miss him, but Frankie left us with a musical legacy music that will never run dry. Rest in Peace. One love.

For a fictional take on growing up reggae, check out Black King.

Protoje

Protoje, Sevana and the Indiggnation Band, Glasgow 02 ABC, 7 May 2017

Being an old-time veteran, I like to think Protoje is quite new on the reggae scene, as he still sounds so fresh and original, generally rejecting recycled rhythms and covers, blending influences from hip-hop and dancehall with the real instruments and talented musicians of the Indiggnation band to create a powerful new conduit for his smart, riddle-full lyrics, putting him at the forefront of the roots revival. But he’s been working at this a long time, as you can tell from his carefully crafted and developed sound. It’s nearly seven years since he started to scratch the surface of success and began this reggae affair with new audiences all over the world, and even made it to Glasgow already in October 2015. So there’s no excuse not to be up to speed with his message by now, and clearly he made a big impression on the reggae connoisseurs of Scotland last time, as the 02 ABC was packed with an eager and expectant crowd.  Protoje’s protégé, Sevana, took the stage bright and early (about a quarter past eight, so don’t be late) to showcase her EP, with songs like ‘Easy To Breathe’, ‘Carry You’ and ‘Chant It’ demonstrating her soulful voice and extra classic lovers style.

After a short break, Protoje took centrestage, his easy-going, laid back presence belying the anger and militancy of his lyrics as he hits us with tunes like 'Criminal' and 'Blood Money'. Flanked by two powerful female voices, keyboards and some rocking guitars, as well as a driving drum and bass, he gets the crowd singing Kymani Marley’s part on ‘Rasta Love’ and the vibe is reminiscent of the latter’s old man. He’s a versatile performer, launching into high-energy steppers, sharing the spotlight with the band and when joined on stage by another amazing prospect Lila Iké, with her own ‘Biggest Fan’ she also features on ‘Flight Plans’ from the ‘Royalty Free’ download last year. A couple more tunes from this selection reveal more of a softer, lovers rock side that emerged spending a few months last summer in the UK, as he tells us. Protoje’s music encompasses the whole smorgasbord of reggae, and while most of his tunes are his own compositions, he also pays tribute to his inspirations, from the bouncing ska of ‘Answer to Your Name’ to a taste of dancehall with some live sampling of Buju’s ‘Champion’ with a heavy dose of eighties influences from Black Uhuru’s ‘Shine Eye Gal’ and a sprinkling of ‘Exodus’. He steps up the pace with a little more help from Sevana and the guitarist taking Jesse Royal’s part for ‘Sudden Flight’ and keeps the crowd bubbling to ‘Bubblin’ and more. He can’t leave out the modern anthem, ‘Who Knows’, which is the first reggae record in years that I’ve heard blasting out of passing cars, in the barbers, shops and at suburban parties, in Glasgow.  Leaving us with another classic, ‘Kingston Be Wise’, after the best part of two hours on stage, he’s already got a substantial body of work to choose from, with three full studio albums and a couple of mixtapes/downloads, but still left the crowd eagerly waiting for more. If you look at the artists he has collaborated with, it reads like a who’s who of the recent roots reggae revival in Jamaica and globally: Chronixx, Jah9, Jesse Royal, Alborosie, Gentleman, which makes you realise reggae’s future is in safe hands, and is also a big chunk of the line-up for this summer’s festivals like California Roots, Summerjam Germany and Boomtown England. So if you missed Protoje on this tour, don’t miss your next chance. One love!

David Rodigan

Book Review: My Life in Reggae

I feel like David Rodigan is an old friend or part of the family, after all, I’ve invited him into my house almost every week for about the last thirty years. It’s always a pleasure to listen to his voice and impeccable taste in reggae, but like a favourite uncle, I must have heard all his anecdotes a hundred times already, do I really need to read his book? Well, the answer is emphatically yes, as the story of his life is also a history of reggae, and there’s a lot more in ‘My Life in Reggae’ than he divulges on air. Not least the revelation that with a mother from Maryhill and a father from Kirkcaldy, Scotland can at last rightfully lay claim to several world cups (of the sound clash variety). And how else would you be able to chart his career as an actor, featuring in episodes of Doctor Who and Sherlock Holmes? His drama grounding is undoubtedly a factor in his success as a DJ, from the way he projects his voice and maintains the entertainment value of performance in every show, to even going as far as using fancy dress at sound clash. When I first discovered his show on Capital in about 1986, he was one of many reggae voices on the FM dial, alongside his old sparring partner Tony Williams on Radio London, the Ranking Miss P on Radio One, Daddy Ernie on LWR/Choice and a plethora of pirate DJs. Over the years, reggae was marginalised to the wee small hours, overtaken by new forms, or found an outlet on internet radio, (you can still find some of those names on Vibes FM). This book explains how Rodigan clung on, taking some chances and risks, not least to his health, and eventually finds himself appreciated by audiences as diverse as Jamaican soundclash crowds, German teenagers tuning into his armed forces show, and a new dubstep generation.


Each chapter briefly sets out a stage in the development of reggae, from ska to new roots, juxtaposed with a period in Rodigan’s life, as he goes from schoolboy watching Millie on Top of the Pops, to radio institution, dancehall daddy and festival regular. A lot of us reggae fans may admit to a twinge of envy when hearing about Rodigan’s frequent trips to Jamaica, his reminiscences of meeting just about every singer, artist and producer ever, and the welcome greetings he receives in dancehalls from Brooklyn to Tokyo. But none of this came easy, and those looking for some mysterious secret to his success will be disappointed. What comes through in the book is that he’s first and foremost a fan, but also a dedicated student of reggae, and always humble and respectful in the presence of those who make it. He never forgets that reggae has its roots in Africa, surviving through slavery and colonialism, to become a major force for equality, love and unity in the world. He touches on subjects he does not mention on radio, from his brush with a sinister group called the ‘Black Music Protection Squad’ in the eighties, to when a soundclash rival in desperation drew the race card, and what he thinks about the murder-inciting homophobia that stained the music in the nineties. Written in an easy-going style, reading the book you can hear his unmistakeable voice, like spending a few hours in conversation with him, and is best done with one hand in your record collection (OK, or Spotify or whatever), so that you can line up a particular track whenever he mentions one, and share in his unwavering enthusiasm and passion for this music. Rodigan opened the door for many reggae fans, and there’s plenty of room inside - so get yourself along to hear some more at the Art School on 25.03.17 and keep on coming through the door!

‘My Life in Reggae’ by David Rodigan with Ian Burrell , available from Dub Vendor, Hive and all good bookshops, Number 1 pon the Amazon Musician Biographies chart

If you like this, you might like Black King and To Jamaica With Love.

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Marlon James

Book Review: A Brief History of Seven Killings

I like to think that genre-defining classic ‘Black King’ started the phenomenon of reggae-flavoured fiction, but this is a seriously heavy novel, in a league of its own. Don’t be misled by the title, as at 686 pages it is not at all brief, and a whole heap more than seven people get killed. It does not claim to be a true history of the background and aftermath of the attempt on Bob Marley’s life in 1976, but as in the foreword, ‘if it no go so, it go near so’. Flowing through the rivers of consciousness of a myriad cast of characters, many closely resembling notorious figures in this bloody chapter of Jamaican history, (but not the bloodiest by a long way) you are sent spinning through the gullies of the ghettoes of Kingston in the seventies, and spilling over into the crack dens of New York in the eighties. If you’re not familiar with the events this may leave you bewildered but reggae lovers schooled by countless cryptic references in lyrics and having seen films like Better Mus Come (and having recently read ‘Stir it Up’, which covers similar ground), will be able to find their way. Amongst all the shootings, stabbings and beatings, there is some great wordage here, of a particular place and time; ‘hataclaps’ being one of my personal favourites, and pretty much summing up the whole situation. Definitely not approved by the Jamaican Tourist Board, the island seen through the eyes of the people caught up in this hair-trigger booby-trapped world is unremittingly bleak, but the narrative digs deeper than the media stereotypes, getting under the skin of gangsters, innocent bystanders, CIA operatives, journalists and ghosts. It also does not shy away from breaking taboos and de-glamorising the ‘Yardie’ image, including the revelation, as a cross between Quentin Crisp and Ali G might say, that a lot of the worst rudeboys is well batty. Is it all just reality, or is it some form of ghetto-porn? How the hell would I know, but I know it is a totally compelling read. Get it now, don't wait for the paperback, life's too short, and you can always use it to whack someone over the head with - in self-defence, of course. One love.