The sun is shining! Well, almost...

I don’t think there’s any of us between the ages of 30 and 50 who is not, or was not, a reggae fan.  We’re a generation that grew up listening to Bob Marley’s ‘Buffalo Soldier’ on Sunday Morning before we went to church, Gregory Isaac’s ‘Night Nurse’ before we went to sleep, the late, great Jeff Mwangemi was the voice of conscious music on radio and you identified with your local ‘massive’, whatever the hell a ‘massive’ was.  For those of us growing up in the 70’s and 80’s, back when radio was MW (middle wave), SW (short wave) or AM (amplitude modulated?), your only listening options were VoK’s General Service, in English, or National Service, in Swahili, your local vernacular service running a couple of hours a day, or, if your father was kind enough to share his priceless transistor radio, BBC World Service.  The only way to get music other than what was on radio was to go buy a cassette/LP, if you could afford it (you knew you were rich if your father had a real album collection, and a functioning record player), but the choices in the store(s) were, shall we say, limited.  Back then the shelves were stacked with country music (because who doesn’t love a bit of Kenny Rogers?), tons of Kenyan Music (i.e. the 67 Wanyika bands, Kamaru, etc), even more African music (the likes of Miriam Makeba and Fela Kuti), and, you guessed it, reggae from here to TZ. 

I grew up listening to the radio, one could say the radio was my babysitter/nanny.  The up side of this was that I grew up with a fondness for all things musical, plus a strange obsession for BBC radio plays (the suspense is nail biting…).  The down side was, my taste in music was shaped not just by those strange men and women in Broadcasting House, but also by the irrational government policies that restricted what the public could listen to, nothing too seditious or otherwise inflammatory, which translated to patriotic songs by the Maroon Commandos, punctuated by the soothing tunes of Don Williams.  Folks, the only reason we got to listen to a lot of the non-sanctioned music we heard back in the day was because the presenters of the day (real music junkies not like the FM presenters of today who wouldn’t know a good tune if it slapped them in the face) more often than not simply ignored their orders, instead playing what they considered good music.  The seemingly innocuous nature of radio, as opposed to TV, meant that those buggers got away with breaking the rules, exposing us to all manner of music and ideas.  On any given day, General Service would take you through every conceivable genre of music, from classical to polka, and all with a mellow voiced presenter to educate you on the finer nuances, and for that I am eternally grateful, because if it wasnt for them I would never have heard Lucky Dube, and what would life be without Mr Dube?    

You’re probably sitting there wondering why I’m reminiscing on days gone by, trying to guess where, if anywhere, I’m going with this.  Relax, its Sunday morning, the sun is coming out, there’s a holiday kesho, I say, let’s kick back and relax, and how better to relax than with a good reggae tune, no?  Problem is, looking at the soundtrack section I am dismayed to see only two reggae tracks, and none is Bob?  Shame man, I have betrayed my (occasionally) downtrodden roots!  The thing about reggae, and the reason this month this situation shall be rectified, is its almost always soulful, probably because of the religious influence, although maybe its just that the tempo is slower forcing them to actually say something of maana instead of the ‘inde inde’ unintelligible nonsense that’s typical of ragga.  Whatever the reason, roots and lovers rock all have this one thing in common, lyrics that make you stop and ponder, the meaning of life, the unconditional love of a mother, the injustice of the tyrant (‘sufferation’), the sight of your woman’s brown skin…

Today’s soundtrack is ‘Before I leave’ by Jah Cure, a track recommended to me by none other than Joey, yes that Joey, a couple of weeks back, in keeping with what has become a lovely practice of lovely people sending good music, and reads, my way.  I believe his description was ‘deep lyrics and soulful voice’, at which point I was convinced he was sending me down a gospel/redemption path.  What?  People are always trying to save my soul, I’m a bit paranoid these days.  Turns out he wasn’t.  At all.  This song is so bloody sexy I stood up.  No really, I stood up and stepped away from the desk, suspicious, good music doesn’t just randomly cross my path, it tends to come with a rider attached, usually in the form of unwanted knowledge, and this song was no exception, unfortunately.  I really must stop googling these geniuses…

As it turns out one Mr Cure, born (and I’m not joking) Siccature Alcock, was (up until a few years ago) in jail, he served 8 years of a 15 year sentence for ‘gun possession, robbery and rape’.  I’ve stuck in the few seemingly credible links I could find relating to his conviction (Wikipedia - Jah Cure, Wikipedia - Jamaica's gun court, the victim's account, as told by the Jamaican press), as well as his personal bio off his site, but frankly I don’t think I have enough information to make a decision on way or another, as is usually the case with rape cases, it always comes down to he said/she said and I don’t know either party so I’m currently disinclined to believe either.  I know, I’m female so I’m automatically expected to be on the side of the victim, but she identified the man from his voice and I don’t know what to make of that.  I am conflicted.  Either way, this knowledge of a rape conviction takes a bit of the shine off this song, and has me slightly hesitant to go looking for more of his music, which is a pity because he really is quite brilliant.  The fact that he was mentored by my man Beres is just icing on the cake (you can hear some similarity no?  You haven’t played it have you?  You shook your head didn’t you?  Figures…).  Which is it, the convicted rapist or the beautiful music?  Damn this internet! 

I know this isn’t a serious moral crisis, but this song is so bloody sexy I’m struggling to write the man off, this bugger may just bump off Beres. 

“Let me carry you to the kitchen,
Let me serve what you've been missing,
Ain’t no time for intermission,
Before I leave,
We create a new position,
You can lose your inhibitions,
Let me take away all your tension,
’Fore I leave,
We don't have to rush, no,
I'll make sure you get enough, girl,
So I can be the last thing on your mind,
I’m a make you call out my name
Before I leave…”

Have a good weekend my lovelies, normal service shall resume midweek.