Robert Nesta Marley

Bob Marley transcends. He transcended his background, he transcended the boundaries of Reggae music and he ultimately transcended the constricts of a typical mortal to become something more to history. Bob is possibly the first and the greatest “world star.” Bob is beloved in every corner of the world, and for reasons that are not just musical. Bob Marley has become a symbol of the good that resides in us all, which we can tap into by channeling our shared humanity. Unlike any other celebrity I can think of Bob Marley’s fame only has a passing relationship to the wonderful music he made. He has become an historical humanitarian.

But it is the music that brings us here. Beginning with his earliest Jamaican recordings, there is something that sets it apart. The keening voice, those unforgettable melodies, and always a message. I got turned on to him in 1975 when Bob Marley Live came out. I was drawn to the colorful cover depicting Bob in trance mode on stage at the Lyceum Theatre in London. I only knew Eric Clapton’s version of “I Shot the Sheriff” which had risen to the top of the charts the year before, riding high on its revolutionary message and the drum work that partially defines Reggae. Immediately upon putting on Bob Marley Live I was transported to another world. Everything about this music was exotic and meaningful to me. I went back to the record store (King Bee Records on Evans) and got more. I got Natty Dread (1974) and Burnin’ (1973) and devoured them like a starving dog. I literally could not believe how great this guy was. His songs resonated with me politically, socially, and intellectually. Like Dylan, Marley seemed to be able to put the basic human struggles into 4/4 time tossing off anthems like it was nothing.

In 1976 when Bob Marley and The Wailers released Rastaman Vibration his trajectory was set and he started to be recognized by the mainstream. With Bunny Wailer and Peter Tosh now both out of The Wailers the focus was entirely on Bob, and he rose to the situation like few in music history. Taking his music to new, commercial heights without relinquishing any of its inherent depth and meaning, Bob vaulted to the world stage, touring the continents, rubbing elbows with international leaders, and locking himself in as a spokesman for the downtrodden of the world.

My own obsession continued. Bob’s outspoken advocacy for marijuana as a religious sacrament didn’t hurt. As his fame grew, and his dreadlocks became mighty, he just seemed to become more and more profound. His albums sold in greater numbers and again he was transcending. His songs were all over the radio, he appeared on Time Magazine. My mother read about him in the New York Times. He was as cool to the underground as he was acceptable to the mainstream - a very rare achievement.

December 5,1979, Bob Marley and The Wailers play at D.U. Arena. I couldn’t be more excited. We got there early and my friend Dan Gamble who I knew from my year at D.U. comes over to me. He’s working security backstage and he has a huge grin on his face. He hands me a gigantic joint - “It’s what they’re smokin’ backstage man - dig it!” It was indeed strong, in a way most American stoners were not used to in the 70’s. When the Wailers hit the stage it was non-stop top rankin’ and skankin’ the whole evening. Performers and audience merged into a cloud of rhythm heavy good vibes. One of the great concerts of my life! A little more than a year later Bob would be gone.

Bob Marley has held a very special place in my heart and my collecting for a long time. I now recognize that the moment he became super-famous was the moment his music changed to a slightly more commercial sound - yet that does not affect my appreciation for him in the least. Like The Beatles, commercial success for Bob Marley just meant a bigger platform for his message, it did nothing to water it down.

A couple of years ago, legendary Boulder Reggae DJ and Twist and Shout customer Roger Gillies (Postman Roger Dread) sadly passed away and I got the call to come look at his collection for purchase. I knew Roger well, thus I knew his collection of Reggae, and particularly Bob Marley, was going to be large. I didn’t realize how large. Probably the largest collection I’ve ever bought, it was the World Book Encyclopedia of Reggae. He had it all! Our customers were the beneficiaries as literally thousands of Reggae CDs, LPs, and memorabilia flooded the store over the next 6 months. It was mind-blowing. However, the most incredible piece was a photo, not a record. For several months after he died, I kept getting calls from former friends, lovers, and associates of Roger’s asking about his collection. Invariably, the conversations would go something like this. “Well before I get off the phone, I wanted to ask you about one specific picture….” After two or three of these conversations I would head them off at the pass - “Just so you know, I’m keeping the lion picture.” The lion picture was taken by photographer Bruce W. Talamon who Postman befriended after purchasing some photos from him. Beautiful black and white portraits of Marley onstage and backstage - he had tons of them. His house was filled with framed photos of Bob. One really stood out though. In this photo, Bob is on stage - the photo in the middle of an intense performance. Now I’m not a big believer in the supernatural, or conspiracy theories, but I’ll be Jah-damned if in this photo Bob Marley isn’t transmogrifying into the Lion of Judah. Think I’m crazy? Look for yourself. Look at his hands turning into claws. Look at his face. This is not photoshopped - this is one of the most amazing photos ever. It’s such a powerful photo I hesitate to share it - but here it is. It’s the jewel of my Marley collection! Thank you Postman! Here it is with some other great Marley items. Today, decades later, if I’m feeling blue, there are few quicker fixes than putting on some of those original Trojan recordings.

- Paul Epstein

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #217 - The Harder They Come (1972, dir. Perry Henzell)

            When The Harder They Come first appeared in America in 1972 it had to have been met with bewilderment. While filled with an almost intoxicating first look at real life on the Island of Jamaica and blessed with one of the best soundtracks in the history of film, the movie presents its narrative and action in such a herky-jerky fashion, and the patois of the characters is so thick, that the typical westerner would be forgiven for requiring subtitles to even follow the plot. In fact, on its first runs through America the film was indeed shown with subtitles. I had not seen The Harder They Come in at least twenty years, and I freely admit that putting subtitles on made this my most rewarding watch of this extraordinary film. My memories of the movie were as cloudy as the ganja that filled the room the first time I saw it. There were strong memories of certain scenes, but my recall of the actual plot was dim. This time, from the first scene, I found The Harder They Come to be a fully absorbing and heartbreaking tale about the grinding effect of systems on human endeavor. Our hero, Ivanhoe Martin (based on a real character) is played with elemental realism by Jimmy Cliff who brings such burning intensity to his portrayal, that one can’t help but feel he is telling his own story at some level. When his grandmother dies, Ivanhoe, an aspiring singer, is forced to leave his country home and go to the city to stay with his mother. Finding nothing but poverty and disinterest in his music, he finds ways to get by-being a bike messenger, then entering the dangerous ganja trade. When he is told to deliver a package to a music studio he tries in earnest to sell his talent to the only producer on the island who can make his dreams come true. When his song only brings him 20 dollars, his disillusionment with the music business starts coming into focus.

            Through a series of events, all of which illustrate the corrupt nature of a system that takes advantage of poverty, ignorance and innocence, Ivanhoe becomes a notorious figure and does indeed find the fame he seeks. He finds a way out of the ghetto and straight to the top. It’s just not the way he wanted to get there. As the events of Ivan’s life ultimately lead him toward a violent conclusion, we are given an amazing look into the inner workings of the Jamaican music business (hint - it’s just as corrupt as it is here), and the marijuana business, and ultimately, the machinery that keeps poor people poor. The fundamental corruption of any system is explored (much as it was later on The Wire). We can feel that Ivan’s dreams will not come true the way he expected as the events of his life tumble inexorably toward chaos. The final acts of the film capture a fateful inevitability that is reminiscent of Bonnie And Clyde. This narrative is played out against the real stars of The Harder They Come: the exotic and exciting views of actual Jamaican life, which initially thrilled Jamaican audiences, and ultimately acted as the greatest calling card the island ever received, and of course the miraculous soundtrack which, along with Bob Marley and The Wailers’ Catch A Fire turned the rest of the world on to reggae music. Throughout the movie, the songs act as a narrative device, driving and describing the action playing out on screen. Reggae legends Toots and The Maytals are responsible for two of the best scenes. In one, their classic Pressure Drop provides the perfect driver for a breathless chase scene through a crowded ghetto. For me though, the most magical scene in the movie takes place as Ivanhoe gets his first look inside the recording studio during a Toots session for the song Sweet and Dandy. Cliff stares at the scene, wide-eyed and in wonder, and we share his thrill and desire to be part of the charismatic magic Toots is laying down. It is one of the most effective scenes about the making of music that I’ve seen. So few movies get the musician side of things right. Director Perry Henzel nails it with this scene.

            Bob Dylan wrote “You’ll find out when you reach the top / You’re on the bottom.” The Harder They Come brings this axiom to life vividly. Ivanhoe Martin dreams of leaving his country boy roots and becoming famous in the big city. He makes his dream come true, and it turns out to be a nightmare. His story is a cautionary tale as well as a lesson about the harsh realities of life for those whom the chips are stacked against. Although this message is depressing, the experience of watching The Harder They Come is ultimately uplifting, because the sounds and sights unfolding are so genuinely thrilling.
                     - Paul Epstein

I'd Love to Turn You On #220 - The Abyssinians - Satta Massagana

For me, studying reggae has been similar to studying the classic R&B recordings of Atlantic or Stax, the legendary blues sessions on Chess or the wide-ranging recordings on Sun Records. The label exists as a framework for all the great music that was released under its imprimatur. The various studio players that orbited the studio became part of the sound, the specific engineers and producers, even the tape-op guys associated with that particular label would come to define the artistic and commercial decisions made in the production of their albums. The classic era of reggae (from approximately 1960 until the mid to late 70’s) was produced in the relatively homogeneous environments of Jamaica and England. The communities of musicians and engineers who were responsible for the classic sound were relatively few in number and thus, as one studies this great music, it becomes clear that many of the same people played on many of the best records and that they were produced by only a handful of technicians in just a few studios. This is why, to the uninitiated, much reggae sounds confoundingly similar. Like the R&B on Atlantic, the deep pleasure and understanding of this music comes from an overarching appreciation of the traditions and techniques used and then an understanding of the individual strengths of each singer. With reggae, there is a deep history of beats, riddims and lyrical insights which can be followed and understood as the foundation, and then there is unlimited joy to be found in the varying vocal deliveries of each individual or group. The Abyssinians were in the tradition of other Jamaican vocal groups like The Paragons, The Heptones, The Mighty Diamonds and Culture who twisted the vocal harmony styles of Doo-Wop and early R&B into the hypnotic vocal attack of conscious roots reggae.

Satta Massagana - both the song and the album - are at the very pinnacle of reggae. The song has become recognized as the national anthem of reggae, and the album embodies everything one could wish for in reggae - it is inspirational, deep and danceable. All the elements are here: the lyrics are serious, political, spiritual and poetic, the band is filled with the absolute cream of Jamaica’s best (Sly & Robbie, Chinna Smith, Tyrone Downie, Mikey Chung et al.) and the three-part vocals by principles Donald and Lynford Manning and lead vocalist Bernard Collins are heavenly. If the band had only recorded "Satta Massagana" and no other song, their reputation would still be as solid. It is one of the most recognizable and wholly satisfying songs of its era; not just reggae - all songs. Everything from its righteous lyric filled with equal parts supplication and inspiration so beautifully sung and harmonized by the vocalists, to the tough, punchy horns, the perfect guitar riddim, and burbling keyboard - it all works wonderfully. In addition, there is the use of words and phrases from the Amharic language adding an even greater air of philosophical mystery. In the age of the internet it is easy to find out what these words mean, but when the album was first released in 1976 (the single was recorded in 1969) hearing these words so lovingly integrated into the song filled the listener with many questions and hinted at deeper meanings than those we were used to in top 40 rock music. These guys were tapping in to something ancient and profound while creating music that seemed unmoored from any specific time period. Listening to it in 2018 has changed nothing at all - this album still sounds fresh. And "Satta Massagana" is not the only masterpiece. The entire album is filled with miraculous songs. Each one a perfectly crafted piece of golden-era reggae, as well a lyrical triumph, nourishing spirit and intellect. "Declaration Of Rights," "Know Jah Today," "Abendigo," "African Race" or "Leggo Beast" are all equal to the title track, and the entire album rewards endless listening.

If diving into reggae seems daunting to you and you have no idea where to start, Satta Massagana is the perfect entry point. It is fantastic music that transcends any genre, yet it is also a perfect exemplar of what reggae can and should be. The world is filled with great music, but music that rises above fashion to “life-changing” - now that is worth pursuing.

-         Paul Epstein

My adventure with Burning Spear in Jamaica

About three years ago I was sitting in my office doing what I do-ordering CDs etc.- when an employee's voice came over my intercom: “Paul there is a Sonia Rodney from Burning Spear on the line.” Luckily I knew that Burning Spear was actually a man named Winston Rodney, and I said “send her through.” On the other end of the line was what I might have called a caricature of a positive, upful Jamaican Woman addressing me as though we had known each other our whole lives. “Paul, oh my, it’s Sonia, Spear’s wife…you want any CDs?” I was flabbergasted. I knew immediately, I was, indeed speaking to the wife of one of my heroes. Winston Rodney, also known as Burning Spear is, in my opinion, the greatest living Reggae singer. He comes from the same generation as Marley, Tosh, Bunny, Scratch, you name it. He is part of the group of Reggae stars who, to me and many people of my generation, represent the essence of what this life-affirming genre of music has meant. Spear is the guy. Over the course of countless albums and thousands of life-changing concerts he has stayed true to the cause-musically, lyrically, spiritually, visually, Spear is the true Rastaman with a once-in-a-lifetime voice, an ineffable sense of rhythm and melody and an intellect informed by both the modern and the eternal. If you love and believe in Reggae, Spear is the beacon of truth.

So I start talking to Sonia. We connected immediately. I wanted nothing from her but to listen and help-she wanted nothing but to further her husband’s career. I told her I thought her husband’s work was amongst the most important in the history of modern music-similar to Dylan, Fela, The Beatles etc. and that she had a legacy to protect and promote that was both artistically and commercially unimpeachable. She told me they owned the rights to almost all of Burning Spear’s modern music and were trying to figure out what to do with it. I’m not sure why, but she mistook me for someone with power. We had hosted Burning Spear for a memorable instore performance back on Alameda Ave., but I barely got to speak to him then and assumed I was long forgotten. She did, however stumble upon a true and loyal fan. I had gotten turned on to Spear at the beginning of his career and had followed him with a private fervor that matched my love of any musician. I immediately purchased a little bit of everything she had and started trying to advise her about the modern music distribution network as I understood it. I encouraged her to keep control of her copyrights and don’t let the modern industry remove the soul and profit from her husband’s legacy. Obviously, she was way ahead of me-she knew what she had, yet was still interested in everything I said. I told her about a group of independent record stores that Twist and Shout is a member of called CIMS (Coalition of Independent Music Stores http://www.cimsmusic.com/) and that we had started our own distribution network that might offer her a short-term solution for the distribution of Burning Spear’s music. I gave her the appropriate contacts and she went on her way. I was three feet off the ground for the next couple of weeks-“I spoke to Burning Spear’s wife and she was awesome!

After a month or so I forgot about the encounter, but then was surprised when CIMS announced a distribution deal with Burning Spear. I was floored. After years of following an artist I had, in some small way, contributed to the evolution of his career. Wow!

Fast forward to October of 2008. The world is in turmoil. Business is unbelievably bad, and it seems that all is darkness. Out of the blue an email comes from Sonia Rodney. “Paul, you want to come to Jamaica?” I respond in a typically suspicious way; “Well sure, what are the details?” “You come, you’ll be Spear’s guest.” It went back and forth this way for some time, before I fully grasped what she was saying. She was inviting a few people who had helped her along the way to Jamaica in January, and Jill and myself were among the lucky. I continued to protest that I was broke and really couldn’t afford it, but she kept insisting, “everything paid for.” The next day, sure enough she sends plane confirmations. Also, she sends reservations for a place called The Caves. We looked up The Caves on the internet and it appeared to be one of the most unique and beautiful all-inclusive resorts in the world. I really couldn’t believe this was happening, but I filed it away and went forward with the Christmas of our discontent. It was a rough season for everyone in this country and in spite of the mild weather it seemed colder than any season in memory.

As the time approached, the enormity of the gift was starting to become clear to us. There was no agenda, no sales presentation, no nothing, just “come down and enjoy The Caves with your loved ones." Finally the day arrives and we take off for Jamaica. This has been a dream of mine since the early 70’s. I’ve loved Reggae music and have been fascinated with this small Island country with the big sound.

After a couple of long flights we landed in Montego Bay and were met by Spear’s personal driver, a ray of sunshine named Donald Pantry. Danny as we called him took us an hour away to the West end of the island and we entered The Caves. I can’t express adequately how beautiful and tranquil a place The Caves is. It is a series of beautifully appointed yet rustic cabins that sit on cliff above a bunch of caves created by the constant lapping of the crystal blue Caribbean waves. Within minutes we are in our shorts, drinking a rum drink and soaking up the incredible vibes.

That night around dinner time I hear a voice floating over the breeze. It is a loud joyous laughing voice and it could be nobody but Sonia Rodney. Finally we get to meet our benefactor. We see her approaching our small group and behind her there is the man himself-Burning Spear. Sonia embraces us warmly. She is a beautiful charismatic woman-bigger than life with dreads literally down to the ground. She is full of hugs and stories and interest in the music business. She is an amalgam of homespun Rasta warmth and New York chattiness. We learn she grew up in New York City and as a teenager caught the eye of Mr. Rodney who nurtured a loving relationship over many years, taking her children as his own and growing an admirable family that he has held as his emotional and business center. Sonia took over the business of Burning Spear in the early 80’s, turning a liability - “He would come home from tour more tired and more broke every year” - into a smartly run business that keeps the music and the message front and center. She was savvy and smart and conveyed her love with every laugh that seemed to come from a place deep down in her soul.

Throughout our hour long get–acquainted session Spear himself held back. He flashed the charismatic smile and kind of waved, but he was more comfortable talking to Danny and the people who worked at The Caves. As we wound down our conversation we all hugged and Spear came over and talked a little, encouraging us to enjoy The Caves and thanking us for being involved in his music. Then they were gone. We all (there were 7 of us) looked at each other and scratched our heads. It really seemed like they just wanted us to have a little vacation on them. We went about having a magical and relaxing time-eating the delicious Jamaican food, drinking the rum, sampling the local horticulture, etc. Jill told me on the second day that this was the most relaxed she had seen me in years, and it was true. We were actually able to forget about the horrendous economic conditions back home for a brief few days and enjoy. Throughout, I spent a lot of time listening to Burning Spear’s music and staring at the ocean. A very healing practice indeed. Spear’s music rivals any for a consistent, positive and morally righteous tone. It is not pop music, but a large and serious body of work that can be appreciated on many different levels. Just the short exposure to the man and the background of his music infused the trip with a magical air, yet I can’t say I wasn’t a little disappointed that I didn’t get any face time with Spear.

On our last full day we were sitting on the veranda of our cabin talking lazily about
nothing in particular when I see Winston Rodney walking toward us. What happened next seemed like a dream. Burning Spear walked up to our sitting area and sat down. He looked over at our bowl of ganj picked up a paper and rolled himself a neat little spliff and started to talk. It was a free-flowing hour of wide-ranging discussion. He quickly realized we were somewhat knowledgeable about the history of Jamaican music and his important part in that history and thus dispensed with any formality. He talked expansively about his early days and experiences with music men Jack Ruby and Chris Blackwell (who owns The Caves by the way). Unlike many of his contemporaries he had nothing but positive things to say about Mr. Blackwell, understanding the pivotal role Blackwell played in his career and in the development of Reggae music. He seemed to look at all of his history with a gently beneficent eye. There was no trace of bitterness or anger in anything he said. He spoke of his relationships with other musicians of his era. Hearing a tale of Marley growing his own “He was cultivatin’ mon” or the serious-minded Tosh or the architect of sound Scratch Perry or the early days at Studio One was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to gather a living history from one of the guys who made it happen. He knew these guys as peers and friends, not as legends or myths. They were his pals.

As the conversation moved lazily to his philosophy of life, Spear became more serious, leaning forward and fixing us with his gaze. He spoke of his motivations being history, teaching and art- not money. He was so clear about that. Money could not be the motivation for anything in his life. His art was propelled by the desire to leave a good example for future generations. He is a teacher, not a businessman. I think it is fair to say we were transfixed. During this part of the conversation he started talking about health. He is 64 and the only thing that tells you that is the grey in his beard. He is in remarkable physical shape. He runs and lifts weights almost every day. He always has a soccer ball in the car with him just in case. He says when he was younger he was an “exercise freak.” It shows. He has the body and demeanor of a man half his age. He made it clear that he rarely smoked any more, but at the same time he made some comments about the ganj that proved he was once a true herbsman. Like many great artists he had a manner and speech that was totally his own.

As our time together came to a close he pulled out his camera bag and withdrew a movie camera. “With you gentlemen’s permission, I would like to take a picture.” He wanted our picture? We joined our wives who had been convulsed with uproarious laughter with Sonia and we all stood in the Jamaican sunset and let Burning Spear take our pictures. The whole thing was so natural we barely remembered to take pictures of him. As quickly as it started it was over. They were gone, getting ready to go to their house in the same town Spear grew up in, and we were left with a wonderful feeling.

I have been lucky enough to meet quite a few of my heroes, and even had lengthy conversations with many of them, but this was the most special of all. Meeting a man like Burning Spear and having him live up to my incredibly high expectations was the greatest. I have always tried to separate the artist from the art and not place my own needs and desires on the artist. There was no need to make this separation with Winston Rodney. He has set the highest standard of musical excellence, and lyrical righteousness and he has lived a life that matches his artistic vision. I can say honestly, he was everything I hoped he’d be and so much more.

We left the idyllic setting of Jamaica and returned to 10 degree weather and equally chilly economic realities at home. Unlike other trips which are over the moment I step on the plane to go home, this one has provided a reservoir of healing spirit that I have been able to access as I need it. Thank you Spear! Thank You Sonia! Thank You Jamaica!