Tag: The Wailers

Not the Pazz and Jop 1973 #16

The Wailers – Burnin’

After my previous encounter with a reggae album, I promised myself I would be better informed about the genre the next time such a record came along. That didn’t happen. So, after multiple plays of “Burnin’”, I finally did it. I listened to albums from Peter Tosh, Burning Spear, Toots and the Maytals, and The Upsetters. And now, having been exposed to a broader selection of what the genre has to offer, I’m still not sure how I feel about reggae. I can, however, say one thing with a fair degree of certainty: I don’t much care for Bob Marley’s form of reggae. (A hush falls over the room.)

Not liking Marley can be a problem if you’re new to the genre, because he towers over it: the top five albums on Acclaimed Music are his. No one else dominates a genre the same way (though Springsteen comes close, with five of the top seven heartland rock records, which isn’t entirely a fair comparison, since it seems to have been invented just to give rock critics a box to contain Bruce). Unless you actively seek it out – at least so far as Canadian mainstream radio goes – you will hear Marley, and then more Marley, and, hey, let’s play some Marley.

There is no shame in that confession. Discernment is a big part of our experience of culture. I keep listening to Marley’s music and I just don’t care. This isn’t the distaste I feel for Jethro Tull, or the deep anxiety caused by most metal, or the loathing of everything related to Ted Nugent. I just don’t see anything to get my blood up about. It is pleasant enough to listen to, but doesn’t engage me – it’s just one song after another that sounds like the last one and the one that comes next. I wish it wasn’t this way – I may be missing out on something marvellous. But, like classical music and a lot of jazz, I am probably without that tiny strand of DNA that gets Marley. Marley sounds the way he sounds, and that’s just how it is. Just because a ton of other people love an artist does not obligate you to do the same. There are lots of celebrated rock/pop artists towards whom I am lukewarm: Dylan, The Who, Joni Mitchell, The Band, The White Stripes, Foo Fighters. I make different choices: give me more Elvis Costello, Fountains of Wayne, Mitski.

What I have learned is that there is a lot of fun music under the reggae banner. It isn’t all the plodding, uninteresting-to-my-ears work of the King. The Upsetters play dub, a reggae subgenre, and it’s playful and goofy and just a delight. Tosh’s record (“Equal Rights”) was very political, but it doesn’t get in the way of some lovely and really interesting beats, and Toots & the Maytals had me bouncing around my house.

As for “Burnin'”, “Get Up, Stand Up” is a justifiable classic, but I much prefer the version from Tosh, who co-wrote the song with Marley. I also prefer Eric Clapton’s (even though he is a racist POS) version of “I Shot the Sheriff”. And the rest is what it is. Like all reggae, it makes me feel like I’m by the pool with a rum cocktail in my hand as I drift off, feeling more relaxed than I have any right to be.

I know there will be more Marley in my future, and I will listen to it multiple times and write about it in this space, God willing. Maybe something will click. Maybe it won’t. But I’ll give it its fair due. Because that’s all any artist has the right to ask of us, and the one thing we should be willing to give them back.

Not the Pazz and Jop 1973 – #6

Bob Marley & the Wailers – Catch A Fire

I’ve struggled with this one, because I want to be respectful. I know nothing about reggae, beyond recognizing it when I hear it. And when I hear it, it all sort of sounds the same as every other time I’ve heard it. So, more than most genres, listening to a record like this is both educational and, one hopes of course, entertaining. I’m basically trying to teach my brain – with a critical assist from my ears – to hear things they’ve missed in the past during casual encounters. Consider it the aural equivalent of making love like Sting and Trudie instead of a quickie in a back alley.

My first exposure to reggae was in its influence on early Police records (two Sumner references in one post!), and in the ska bands I heard coming out of England on “90 Minutes with a Bullet” in the late ‘70s, though I knew it only as a word and not as a genre unto itself. I loved the Police (still do), did not like ska at all (that hasn’t changed much either, though the Essential Ska playlist on Spotify has some interesting possibilities), and never thought even once of trying to actually listen to some reggae so I could understand what the music press was talking about. I was far less adventurous in my early teens.

The sound is instantly recognizable on this record, with disjointed rhythms, heavy yet often subtle bass lines, and light fluttery keyboards. In the end, as a bit of a variety junky, it all just sounds too similar to itself to make much of a dent on my consciousness. Very little stands out to me. I love Marley’s vocal, and the interplay with the backing singers, on “Concrete Jungle”, which has an oppressive feeling despite the sunny sound. “High Tide or Low Tide” has a delicate rolling spirituality, and the Peter Tosh-penned “Stop That Train” has a quality that I can’t quite put my finger on, almost a gentle southern rock feel in parts. The closer, “No More Trouble”, has the feel of a spiritual again, with an insistent message.

Feeling contained by my limitations, I cued up the Reggae Classics playlist on Spotify, and it was a revelation. I think the problem is that for the average listener in this market, reggae means Marley, which means one sound and about 6 or 8 songs in rotation. (Imagine how you’d feel if your only notion of rock was, say, U2 and you’ll understand.) So unless we make the effort to change this, we aren’t exposed to the incredibly diverse range seen across different artists. For now, I like reggae just fine, but as more of a palate cleanser between other music, and not as a meal itself. But I’ll keep listening – Jimmy Cliff, especially, caught my attention – because I want to grow in my appreciation of different styles of music, and island rhythms offer warmth on a miserable autumn day.