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The Beat, Review >>
I have never been to Paris. I can nonetheless assume its denizens love reggae, based on the number of reggae artists who have recorded live albums or portions of live albums there (a partial list would include Rob Madey, Burning Spear, Alpha Rlondy. Steel Pulse. Ijahman and Yami Bolo). I have, however, had the pleasure of seeing Linton Kwesi Johnson perform live and am well aware of the fact that he is not simply a reggae artist in the conventional sense. Rather, he combines the best of several literary depth, rebel spiril, cultural awareness, poetic flair, roots reggae and varying degrees of other global music influences - maintaining his place as arguably the best dub poet in the world at present.
Dub poets (those who recite/chant/intone verse often thick with Jamaican palois over reggae-bawd musical arrangements) are a shad owy presence in music nowadays, with music of the better-known ones (Johnson, Mutaharuka, Okn Onoura, etc.) recording and performing infrequently and devoting much of their time to other pursuits usually having to do with social causes and what literary minds can do to further them. Understandable, though part of me wishes it wasn't so. Still, dub poets are a fascinating lot, and the fact that they're not a self-absorbed, gotta-top-the-other-guy subculture, like so many rappers and dancehall djs (to whom they are somewhat akin), is heartening.
But let's put aside the dub pool baggage for the moment. Even viewed simply as a reggae artist, the Jamaica-born, England-bred Johnson has the power to grip an audience anywhere in the world the same as any Afrocentric sporter of dreadlocks. This particular performance is set in Paris because of that city's status as a reggae hot spot, though Johnson (or LKJ, if you prefer) has always had something to say to the whole of humanity. And he only says something when he's good and ready, having made mere six albums of original reggae material since 1978. But those six and the anthologies, dub discs and live albums that revisit them represent one of the mightiest mulchings of words and music ever. The career-spanning selections on Live in Paris are timeless riddim recitations on the frustrations of everyday life ("More Time"), racism ("Reggae Fi Peach"), police brutality ("Sonny's Lettah," "Liesense Fi Kill"), the evils of war and conflict ("Di Eagle An Di Bear"), the necessity of violence ("Fite Dem Back"), the tainting of regae's unifying vibe ("Dread Beat An Blood") and insights both radical and practical from a one man symposium of clear thinking.
Johnson's words become a hybrid of poetry and lyrics when set to reggae music, revealing his clever, pointed knack for wordplay, particularly when it comes to emphasizing key phrases and passages to clarify meaning. He deftly guides the listener through Jamaican-accented lingo thai can be as dense as any in reggae (would that I had the skill to faithfully reproduce any phonetic written examples). LKJ's dry but sharp vocal delivery is one of his trademarks, his bass voice cadences commanding attention even when he goes a cuppella. Rejoice though, in the fact that his perfectly suited recording and onstage relationship with bassist/longtime collaborator Dennis Buvell's Dub Band continues. A crack team of reggae players, they also score when it comes to working in shades of, for example, jazz (as on "Want Fi Goh Rave") or Mediterranean sounds ("Reggae Fi Radni") that stretch the mold without breaking it. In live performance, Bovell and Co. give the pieces a fresh urgency that makes you move in spite of ihe serious subject matter.
What's perhaps most marvelous about LKJ's work is that it never feels dated or lacking in relevance. As long as there are inept governments, abuses of power, restless souls and tragedy, the verse from Johnson's mighly pen will have something to say from the perspectives of poet, reggae artist and global citizen. And lest anyone think he's merely pointing lingers from the sidelines, check the final track on the disc: "Reggae Fi Bernard," moving elegy to Johnson's own nephew who died under mysterious circumstances. Wrapping up on such a personal note, LKJ brings things full circle. We all have our crosses to bear, even as we lend to world lull of them.
-Tom Orr 01/01/05
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