I don't like reggae. These aren't the lyrics to “Dreadlock Holiday,” it's an actual statement. I genuinely don't like reggae. Too many artists get the cosmetics right: the syncopated Caribbean shuffle, Babylon, ganja, an ay-oh-ayoyo chorus, and somewhere along the way they forget to write an actual song. In that respect, reggae has a lot in common with heavy metal, where countless bands have the right sound, the right speed, the right image and absolutely nothing memorable beyond the opening riff.
Obviously, both genres have produced musicians who get the whole package right, and there is no arguing with Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, Steel Pulse, Jimmy Cliff or Frederick Nathaniel “Toots” Hibbert and his Maytals. Toots in particular has the songs, which makes all the difference.
The original Maytals are long gone, replaced by a band of professional sidemen, but Toots is still here, well into his seventies and singing songs he wrote decades ago: “Pressure Drop,” “54-46 Was My Number,” “Pomp and Pride,” “Monkey Man,” “Funky Kingston” and that fantastic version of “Louie Louie.” These aren't songs that survive because of nostalgia or because somebody nailed the correct reggae sound. They're just great fucking songs.
A few newer numbers make their way into the set without leaving much of an impression, although asking them to compete with “Pressure Drop” or “Funky Kingston” is hardly fair. The crowd certainly doesn't seem bothered. Everyone is dancing, Toots sounds terrific and the room is having a great time, although it's sometimes difficult to tell exactly what's happening through all the smoke.
I leave the venue feeling euphoric, but I suspect the contact high deserves at least some of the credit.
