do the reggae

Sorry for the cultural posts lately, but I’ve been so bogged down in local politics, the living wage fight here in Santa Barbara and the lead-up to the November special election that my mind has been trying to escape a bit. I recently re-purchased my all-time favorite reggae album, the Wailers anthology titled “Talkin’ Blues.” A mix of interviews with Bob Marley and tracks culled mainly from a 1973 live radio performance in San Francisco, the album is simply amazing. That era was the high period for the Wailers, still playing raw, funky and urgent music, unspoiled by overly-smooth pop production and rock arrangements. Peter and Bunny and Bob were still together, and their vocal combinations have yet to be matched. Peter Tosh really shines here, giving up his best version of “Can’t Blame The Youth”, as well as a driving account of “Get Up, Stand Up”. If you don’t own it, get it now.

I’ve been listening to reggae literally my whole life. My parents went to a Bob Marley concert at the Hollywood Bowl when I was a toddler. My uncle Kerry still complains about how he had to stay home and babysit. Some of my fondest memories of my father are sitting on a hot Summer porch in L.A. listening to Peter Tosh or Toots and the Maytals asking him to translate the (to me) sometimes indecipherable lyrics. At once an affirmation of my heritage and an expression of every moral and political aspiration I hold dear, reggae is a perfect spiritual artifact.

Reggae fans, of course, are another deal altogether. Through my brief stint as a musician in The Adjusters, I’ve met a broad swath of (mostly) white reggae fans and musicians, people who have a truly impressive mastery of the music itself, and a deep respect for its social and cultural origins. These folks, seem to be concentrated in Los Angeles, New York and Southern Europe, are not the problem. Nor are the assorted hippy and mellow-surfer types who like the reggae. What gets my goat are the straight-up frat boys with Bob Marley posters all over their dorm room, folks for whom reggae is little more than the extension of a juvenile marijuana fixation. Reggae for them is a simple “tropical” rhythm that signifies a laid-back, stress-free lifestyle. It’s Jimmy Buffett for the 19-25 set. No disrespect meant to Jimmy, but he’d be the first one to say that he’s not in it for the revolution.

Sure, this same goup of people have depoliticized punk and hip-hop as well, translating those genres into nothing more than an expression of their inchoate masculine aggression. I remember talking to a Rage Against the Machine fan in Chicago as he was buying one of those stupid Rage Che Guevara posters. The guy thought it was a picture their lead singer. I asked him if he was a revolutionary or a Maoist. He said he just liked their music, and wasn’t into their “governmental stuff.” Rock on! Even the sometimes painfully self-critical male feminist rage of Fugazi was translated by the frat brigades into macho aggression back in the 90’s. These folks are insatiable.

Rastafarianism, for all its rampant sexism and myopic nationalism, is a liberation theology. It is a defiant assertion of the sacred dignity of oppressed peoples. It is prophetic and hopeful and resolute in the face of profound injustices- and so it is sad to see it’s musical expression transformed in the hands of this culturally greedy subset into just so much pap.

Before I get accused of elitism or someone writes in to say that people should be allowed to listen to whatever they want, please spare me. Of course people can listen to reggae even if they vote Republican and think Affirmative Action is reverse-racism. People can do all kinds of horribly stupid things. However, social movements don’t succeed by political tactics alone. Progress and freedom come also through cultural struggle, and when our cultural tools are twisted and bent because they are a convenient fit for people who couldn’t care less about us, our voice is weakened.

Meanwhile, I’m still gonna be rockin my Bob Marley and hoping that some of these kids really listen to it.

Check out the Bob Marley Foundation