This post contains my complete running coverage of this annual festival ...
© Tulsa World Walls of wailing By Thomas Conner 06/28/1996 Lloyd “Bread'' MacDonald and Winston “Pipe'' Matthews, together known as the Wailing Souls, learned by doing. In their early teens, the two would finish up a typical school day in Trench Town, Jamaica, with a vocal jam session in an unused kitchen. Hanging out in their government yards (the Jamaican equivalent of the projects) with the likes of young Bob Marley, Ken Boothe and Delroy Wilson, they learned how to sing and how to mean it. Pipe and Bread went on to record a string of reggae hits and establish themselves as an important part of the reggae scene in the late 1970s and early '80s. In 1988, they relocated to Los Angeles, but their mission and message stayed the same. In fact, they discovered that the social worlds of Jamaica and Los Angeles offered the same hope and despair. We caught up with Bread in Los Angeles this week before his Tulsa appearance as a part of Reggaefest this weekend. Tulsa World: How did the environment of the government yards in Trench Town contribute to the music you created? Bread: When all the people are put together like that, it teaches you how to get along with your neighbors. It helps to develop a sense of family among many families. There is so much poverty, and out of that is where most of the music is spawned. People like Bob Marley and so many of the reggae singers are always singing about oppression and suffering. That's our roots, really. No matter where we are, we always remember the places like Trench Town. It's easy for me to put myself right back into that frame of mind in Trench Town. That picture stays with me wherever I go and will be there all my life. How are Trench Town and Los Angeles alike? Trench Town in Jamaica is very much like Compton in Los Angeles. Both places graduated many talented youths into musical careers and both places have a lot of gangs. Lots of our friends in school took the wrong path and did not survive. If Pipe and I hadn't latched onto music when we were youths, we wouldn't be here today ... Trench Town is a strange place. If you mix with the wrong crowd, you could end up in prison or dead. We're thankful we found guys like Bob Marley to hang out with and learn music. And these conditions are pretty universal? Is that why you wrote anti-violence songs like “O.K. Corral'' and “What's a Life Worth''? These things are happening all over the world. There is violence going on all over. We always try to write songs that reflect what's happening all around the world. Most of our songs from 10 years ago are still relevant. I don't know if that's good or bad. What's unique about reggae music? Why can it spread those good messages so effectively? That message itself is unique to reggae music. The rhythm is very unique, too. You hear a reggae song and you know it's a reggae song. We Jamaicans talk a different way and walk a different way and dance a different way. The music basically reflects all those things. It's music born out of the ghetto, not out of a conservatory or something. The people who play reggae music learned to play music by ear. It's created in jam sessions. In that way, we have no boundary, nothing to say you can't do this or don't do that. You just do whatever is natural in the context. It's freedom music. Is it difficult to balance the demands of writing good music and good messages? We look at music as a spiritual thing, and the lyrical content is most important. If we have a great track going but the lyrics are not right yet, we'll take two months or whatever it takes to finish the lyrics before we finish the track. The words come first. What do you think of other forms of reggae — ska, dancehall, rocksteady, etc.? It's all the same music, man, it's just the music growing. It's the same thing and we love it. You have to have the roots and you have to have the branches. To me, it's just Jamaican music, whatever you call it. Walls of Wailing II By Thomas Conner 06/28/1996 Bob Marley's last birthday party was thrown in Germany where the Wailers had convened briefly after a tour. It was clear by that point that Marley was not well, that his cancer was a formidable foe even to someone as positively charged as Marley. Amid the tempered revelry, Marley pulled aside the band's guitarist, Junior Marvin, and bassist, Aston “Familyman'' Barrett, and told them to keep the Wailers together. “He said if worse came to the worst, he wanted us to keep the positive energy going, to keep the music and the spirit and the vibe going,'' Marvin told the Tulsa World last week in a rare media interview. “We thank Jah we're still here, doing this for him and the world.'' True to Marley's wish, the Wailers have not stopped. They played at Marley's funeral in 1981. A few months later, they were already playing tribute shows in San Francisco. The occasional legal wrangle has delayed recordings since then, but the band has released three albums since Marley passed, and the members continue spreading Marley's positive vibration around the world. The Wailers without Marley are a different band, certainly. A lot of technology has come around since Marley was in the studio, and the Wailers make use of it to create their own sound, their own songs. But they will always carry the legacy of Bob — a legacy in music that extends far beyond the confines of “reggae'' or even “black'' music — and they'll probably always play the old Marley tunes. “Our show is about 50-50 old and new,'' Marvin said. “We do about six or seven songs from our new album, and we do the Marley classics like `Exodus' and `I Shot the Sheriff,' stuff like that. A lot of people want to hear the old songs, but that doesn't mean our audience is always old. There's a brand new generation out there. Our crowds are full of 12-year-olds, 17-year-olds, parents, grandparents, delinquents. They want to hear the things Marley sang about. We don't get tired of it. It's like the Olympics, it's like with Bob we won the Olympic medal. It's an honor. You can't decide one day you just don't want to talk about it anymore. It's an honor to keep the message going.'' The Wailers started humbly enough, as a trio of singers wanting to take the doo-wop sounds they loved on radio and fit them to the island rhythms of Jamaica. Marley's smoky voice led the group through two albums that launched the band onto international charts, and the peaceful revolution began. Marvin hooked up with the Wailers in London in 1977. He had played guitar on Steve Winwood's “Arc of a Diver,'' but he had no steady band of his own. Marley recognized Marvin's ability to play a wide variety of styles, from rock to blues to reggae riddim and brought him into the fold. The first project they worked on together was the “Exodus'' album. “Our first session together was when I came in to play one day with Bob and Tyrone Downey, the keyboard player. They were jamming, so we became a trio. We were really happy with the way things sounded, and I thought it was great to be playing with a reggae band like this. Dreams really do come true,'' Marvin said. Marvin's lead guitar gave some presence to the typically bass-defined reggae pocket. His grasp of different styles came from his upbringing — a jazzman father, an uncle who was a sound man, schooling that exposed him to classical music and rock 'n' roll. Marvin refers to his own playing as a mix of Jimi Hendrix and George Benson, and Bob used that versatility to explore all the extremes. Had Marley's popularity not taken off as it did, Marvin wonders if Jamaican artists would have seen the acceptance they now enjoy. Before Marley's reggae music got around, few off-island had heard the style at all. “Nowadays you see many reggae bands all over the world. In Bob's time, hardly anyone from Jamaica was touring. Many were putting out that positive energy in the music, but they hadn't been able to get it out to the world,'' Marvin said. So that's another reason the Wailers determined to carry on with the band. Reggae is one part groove to one part sermonizing -- most of these musicians have a message of love they want to preach to the masses, and in the wake of Marley their jamming can reach wider audiences. The groove makes the message easy to take, and the message makes you feel like dancing. It's musical mission work. Marley was able to break through, Marvin said, because he kept his messages simple. Plus, he practiced what he preached, a rarity among musicians, Marvin said. “Bob always said he wanted even a baby to be able to understand what he was saying,'' Marvin said. “He was direct, strong and forceful in a very loving kind of way. He didn't put you off or upset you. He made you happy to talk about thing you might be afraid to talk about.'' The latest Wailers album, “Jah Message'' on Ras Records, uses a lot of new technology — drum machines supply a lot of the groove and eerie guitar effects flavor the mixes — but the message is the same. Some titles: “Rasta,'' “Jah Love (Believers)'' and “Many Roads to Zion.'' “Know Thyself'' even reflects the Wailers' doo-wop roots; Marvin and company open the song singing, “Shoo whap shoo whap, do do do day.'' The world needs reggae, Marvin said. We need that message, that reminder of peace. Music being a universal language, it can reach cultures all over the world, and we always need it, he said. “We need the message all the time. The conflicts and troubles are the same around the world in every time of history. We have a negative, warring side to us and we need to calm that vibration. Music helps us stay calm and balanced,'' Marvin said. “The message is very simple — 'Let's get together and feel all right,' like the song says. It's that simple.'' Reggaefest By Thomas Conner 07/02/1996 It's easy to hype Reggaefest with lots of cutesy, condescending ignorance — talking about musical styles you really don't understand, insulting overuse of the word “mon'' — but when the whole thing comes together, it really is something special. For all the advertised peace, love and understanding, there is a unified feeling of happiness and hope that actually delivers. Or that could just be the delirium of heatstroke. Either way, Reggaefest is the best party around, and this year's bill was the finest lineup of world music talent in years — a truly impressive bunch of international stars in lil' ol' Tulsa. The crowd Saturday evening appeared to be a huge turnout even for the perennially popular Reggaefest. The big draw was the featured act, the one and only Wailers band. This continually evolving group that once backed the legendary Bob Marley continues to tour and perform Marley's songs as well as its own originals. But the crowd came to hear those classics, and the Wailers came through. What a show — you've got the expectation of seeing several historical figures in the pantheon of world music, you've got a catalog of timeless songs that by their very nature instill positive vibrations and singing along, and you've got a band that in spite of anyone's huffing about composition of original members versus new members delivers a powerful performance. Lead singer and guitarist Junior Marvin can perform “I Shot the Sheriff'' repeatedly and have his ticket written for him for the rest of his life, but if he's resting on his laurels he doesn't show it. He put every bit of his vocal strength and showmanship into Saturday night's set, and they way he sermonized the sweaty congregation hinted that his heart was in it, too. The Wailers are still an impressive band. Aston “Familyman'' Barrett is the best bassist in reggae, a genre that revolves around the bass guitar. Alvin “Secco'' Patterson is the happiest percussion player you'll ever see. Saturday night he slapped his drums and wore a towering rave hat with Rasta colors. During “Where Is Love,'' he removed it and, sure enough, that huge hat was stuffed with dreads. Many Marley classics were covered — “Natty Dread,'' “I Shot the Sheriff,'' “No Woman, No Cry,'' “Positive Vibration,'' “Exodus,'' even “The Heathen.'' The new Wailers material varies between good progressive reggae, like “Jah Love,'' to silly filler like “Rasta,'' sort of a Rastafarian “Jesus Loves Me.'' Marvin pulled out the 12-string guitar for “Redemption Song,'' and the performance of “One Love'' was as inspiring as any gospel music. It is gospel music. Listen to those lyrics, “Give thanks and praise to the Lord, and I will feel all right.'' It's a devoted religious message being played to a multitude of eager listeners, and it succeeds where much religious music fails because of that extra step — feeling all right. Thousands of Tulsans held hands and felt all right for two solid hours. Amen. The two-day festival featured 10 other high-class musical acts. Here are some highlights: Festival organizers tried to branch out a bit this year. One of the results of that effort was the appearance of the Grown-Ups on the second stage Friday and Saturday. This is a ska band from Denton, Texas, and they're pretty hot. Ska is a fairly rigid style of music, but the Grown-Ups found ways to loosen it up a bit, chiefly due to an energetic trombone player (with great shoes) and an innovative drummer. The lead singer, though his lyrics are pretty amateurish, barks with the force of the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. When someone on Friday shouted, “Play some Bosstones!'' he said, “What are the Bosstones? Is that 'More Than a Feeling?''' Another result of branching out was Friday night's main stage set by O.J. Ekemodie and the Nigerian All-Stars. Ekemodie and his two female dancers, one on either side, must be the Tony Orlando & Dawn of western Africa, playing their Afro-beat and singing songs about “social concerns.'' He played a mean sax and a cool drum out of which he got a surprising array of tones. His frequent dedications to a free Nelson Mandela helped both charge and date the festival; Mandela's freedom was still nebulous during last year's Reggaefest. Billy Goat returned to Tulsa to ply us once again with its tribal rhythms. This band, now based in Lawrence, Kan., played the festival's second stage Saturday evening and actually got some of the typically staid second stage audience members to dance. Billy Goat always does. The rhythm is the thing for them, evidenced by two drummers and a band member who's sole purpose is to dance. Local Hero kicked off the main stage Saturday evening after a brief delay caused by power problems. This Tulsa-based band has played almost every Reggaefest, and the band deserves its billing on the main stage. After seeing Local Hero a million times at venues around the state, it's easy to forget how good they are until they're in a festival alongside the international stars and they hold their own. Heck, they were better than a couple of the main stage acts from exotic islands. Lead singer and bassist Doc James introduced the band's final number, “Put Your Hand in Mine,'' saying, “Everybody asks us why we're not bigger, more famous ... I'm happy right where I am.'' We're happy to have him here, too. Arrow is a tiny man but very mighty. He has taken soca music across an astonishing number of borders, primarily due to the success of his song “Hot Hot Hot'' — a terribly appropriate song for the occasion — which he served up in the middle of his Saturday night set on the main stage with infectious energy. His band was incredibly tight and proficient; the drummer did not stop whacking the same beat for the first 20 minutes of the set, and Arrow knelt down before his three-man horn section for good reason. By the time they blasted into “O'La Soca,'' everybody's feet hurt. Bless those Rhythm Lizards. This local band of worldly music had its own stage throughout the festival, playing sets while the main stage was changing acts. They somehow came up with enough material to perform for nearly six hours on a frying pan of a stage and played their hearts out to a captive audience among the merchandise booths. They win the endurance award. Festival organizer Tim Barraza made a special dedication before the Wailers set, dedicating this year's event to its former emcee, J.T. “Dread'' Turner, and presenting a plaque to Turner's three children. Turner died in September in a California hospital. Comments are closed.
|
Thomas Conner
These online "clips" reproduce a self-selection of my journalism (music etc) during the last 20+ years. It's a lotta stuff, but it only scratches the surface. I do not currently possess the time or resources to digitize the whole body of work. These posts are simply a bunch of pretty great days at the office. Archives
May 2014
Categories
All
|