BURNING SPEAR

REETING MOJO AT THE PRE-APPOINTED hour, the man born Winston Rodney but known for over 50 years as Burning Spear begins our conversation with a song that is also a kind of benediction. “As far as I can see, everything is all right with me,” he keens in a quavering vibrato, before shifting up an octave to introduce a favourite topic. “Marcus Garvey has been accused many times wrongfulleee, we need his name to clean up and set his record free… free… free…!”

At the age of 77, Burning Spear is among the last surviving reggae icons, one whose wide-ranging tenor remains remarkably undiminished. A pioneer of roots reggae – the early-’70s innovation that brought Rastafari, black consciousness and economic injustice to the fore in Jamaican popular music – he is closely associated with the figure of Marcus Garvey, the Jamaican political activist of the 1920s and ’30s. While Garvey remains controversial – his support for black separatism was applauded by those other racial separatists, the Ku Klux Klan – his Afrocentrism resonated throughout the roots reggae movement. Bob Marley quoted him in Redemption Song. Burning Spear’s most celebrated album – one of the most celebrated, still, in all reggae – took Marcus Garvey’s name. Jamaica’s north coast and the capital of St Ann Parish, Spear perhaps unsurprisingly sees himself as part of a trinity of local heroes, together with Garvey and Marley.

PEAR’S UPBRINGING WAS TOUGH EVEN for rural Jamaica. He was the second youngest of 13 – with four brothers and eight sisters, and religiously strict parents. “My mom was a cook and my father do road construction and my parents was Pentecostal,” he recalls, “so I had to go to church two times for the day – you ain’t chickening out on that!”

School meant soccer and swimming and running, but music wasn’t on Rodney’s radar until his teens, as the stars to rival the ascendancy on the airwaves of US R&B.

“I started to feel this music from the late ’50s into ➢

➣ the early ’60s,” he says, “and this music’s coming from a distance, ’cos it was mento, ska, rocksteady, all those changes the music came through, and it’s the same music that turn itself into reggae. Jamaica had so much musicians, like there was the great trombone player, Don Drummond, the guitarist Ernest Ranglin, and there was some great people out there who were singing, like The Heptones, Larry Marshall, Peter Tosh, Alton Ellis. All those brethren were there before I-man, so I was listening to the real hardcore, I wasn’t listening to the fancy side of reggae music. And one of my main people who I was listening to is Bob Marley – I would listen to every one of Bob’s songs.”

Along with the music, Rodney began to absorb some of the spiritual and political ideas that were circulating on the island. Local before Rodney’s birth and whose Black Star Line shipping company had been established to begin the return to Africa he advocated for the black population of the Americas. The Rastafari faith, a feature ences combined in a mystical epiphany that hit Rodney one day in the late 1960s.

“I was on Key Largo Beach, near where Marcus Garvey used to be located at 1 Jail Lane,” he relates, “and that’s where everything start to happen: I-man start to see my roots, my culture, my history, where I’m coming from originally, my people before me and my great-grandfather’s-father’s-father. The awareness come to I-man based upon my energy, for you’ve got to be open thinking, and the energy just came right there on the beach.”

Rodney had been earning his bread dry cleaning, car washing and tiling. But from that moment, he says, music started to come to him, and with it the conviction that it was “Jah wish” that he was “to hi and with it the conviction that it was “Jah wish” that he was “to be a musician or an artist”.

On the beach a stone’s throw from Garvey’s birthplace, a new time,” says Spear. “That’s where I grow my dreads.”

Although Rodney was not yet a musician, his spiritual journey was well underway. Hitchhiking the 80-odd kilometres to Kingston, he would reason with Rastafari brethren in the sprawling slum of Back-O-Wall. It was here that he acquired his distinctive stage name.

One time Nyah asked Rodney if he knew anything about Jomo Kenya. Nyah told Rodney what the Kikuyu name ‘Jomo’ meant in English and noted, “Man, it’s a good name to carry as an artist.”

Rodney promised to give it some thought. “Then I decided to go with the name, now that I get the full understanding of who is esident of Kenya.”

N HIS 2000 SINGLE, AS IT IS, SPEAR looked back on key moments in his career. “I start singing in the late ’60s,” he sang. “Told about Studio One by Bob Marley.” It was no elaboration either. The two had met by chance deep in the St Ann’s countryside, close to Marley’s birthplace of Nine Mile, while Spear was seeking marijuana plants and other produce to barter back in town.

“That area is where most of the herb was cultivated at that time, so we went into that area to get some good smoke,” says Spear with a chuckle. “And I saw Bob coming down the street with his donkey and a lot of plants. Bob was going to his farm, doing his own cultivation, and at that time, Rasta ing him how I could get started in this music business and Bob asked I if I know of Studio One.”

That’s how Rodney made his way to the recording facility founded by Clement ‘Sir Coxsone’ Dodd in the early 1960s, travelling to Brentford Road, Kingston, with Rupert Willington, who sometimes carried harmony when Rodney sang informally in St Ann’s Bay.

“When I reach in town, it was exciting, but I wasn’t even paying the excitement too much attention,” he explains. “I just th want to go there and express myself musically and let w out what’s inside of I-man, that I’ve been carrying for ou all these times. So I came to Studio One and tell Mr al Dodd, ‘Bob say I should come to you,’ and Mr Dodd say D is Door Peeper. And Mr Dodd was happy. He never is heard anything like that before, so to him, perhaps this he can be gold!” can led dance tunes and sweet love ballads, but the song led Spear auditioned with was startlingly difSp ferent. Ominous, forceful and weighty, its f fe biblical lyrics delivered in thick patois with bi uncommon vocal phrasing, Door Peeper un warned of the informers who reported on w Rastafarian activity to the police, and exR horted the sect’s faithful to join together ho in peace, chanting down the oppressive in forces of so-called Babylon. fo “The styling hit me as something new and different,” said Dodd when I visited a Studio One in 2002. “The guy singing S with him [Willington] wasn’t saying nothw ing, so I had to take [Spear] to one side in and say, ‘I’m willing to invest in you, but a don’t worry about harmony, because we d always have house harmony in the studio.’ a And there again, I am really happy to know A that I can pick a winner.” th Spear’s stint with Dodd produced the albums Studio One Presents Burning Spear (1973) b and Rocking Time (1974), and yielded a second an hit in 1972 with the hypnotic, devotional He h Prayed (AKA Joe Frazier), framed by a subtle Pr trombone refrain. “In the song, I speak about tr Jah prayed for I and you, until his sweat turned Ja blood,” says Spear. “I don’t deal with colourism, nationality, or religion; I say glory be to Jah, the creator. We give thanks to the universe, to nature.” Like many of his peers, Burning Spear rangements at Studio One, but concedes that he gained invaluable experience at Jamaica’s Motown. “When The Heptones and Delroy Wilson were recording, I see what’s going on, and after that I started to think for myself and arrange all my songs,” he s says. “But Studio One wasn’t bringing me anything for himself. So going to Studio One is like, when f you’re a kid, you go to school until you graduate, y and when you graduate you move on. So I walked a away but I didn’t walk away from the music; I a walked away from Studio One still maintaining w my creativity.” m

HE TIMING OF HIS BREAK WITH DODD PROVED fortuitous, since soundsystem proprietor Lawrence Lindo,

AKA Jack Ruby, based a few miles east of St Ann’s Bay in Ocho Rios, was contemplating a move into record production. Having long championed Burning Spear’s work on his soundsystem, Ruby convinced Rodney to record with two backing vocalists, resulting in the temporary return of Rupert Willington, along with another St Ann’s Bay hopeful, Delroy Hines.

“There was an audition taking place at the Federal Theatre in my town, so I went there and sing about Marcus Garvey and about ➢

(Studio One, 1973) Tipped to Jamaica’s foundational studio by Bob Marley, Winston Rodney’s astonishing debut for producer Clement ‘Coxsone’ Dodd kickstarted Rasta-conscious roots reggae. On immortal debut 45 Door Peeper, Spear’s smoky tenor chants down Babylon with a haunting, spiritual quality which surpasses even Marley’s Studio One output.

(Fox/Island, 1975) Produced by soundsystem operator Jack Ruby and bolstered by backing band The Black Disciples (Soul

Syndicate/Wailers) and harmony singers Rupert Willington and

Delroy Hines, Marcus Garvey established Spear as the leading light in the new generation of reggae artists concerned with black self-determination and pan-African solidarity. In a word: dread. 56 MO O

(Fox/Island, 1976) Less militant than Marcus Garvey, Rodney’s third LP for Island fnds the singer in bucolic reverie, seeking to escape the inequities of Babylon and retreat to a community-based rural existence. But it’s not all meditative irie-ness; the likes of No More War and Lion showcase Spear at his most potent and righteous too.

(Island, 1977)

While it’s almost impossible to fully capture the majestic power of Burning Spear live, this recording of an October 1977 show at London’s Rainbow Theatre comes closest. Backed by Aswad’s stellar rhythm section and gifted Jamaican trumpeter Bobby Ellis, tracks such as Throw Down Your Arms and I And I Survive (Slavery Days) pack a considerable, roots-heavy punch.

(Island, 1978)

From pain-racked opener Marcus Children Sufer to the brooding intensity of closer Marcus Say Jah No Dead (covered by Sinéad O’Connor in 2005), Social Living is a perfect distillation of Burning Spear’s devotional vision. “It takes behaviour to get along” implores Rodney repeatedly over the title track’s dense groove, like a mantra he’s been reciting all his life. ➣ Slavery Days, but I was turned down,” he continues. “Then here comes Jack Ruby on the beach, saying he heard that I have two good songs and he wouldn’t mind working with me.”

Spear’s Marcus Garvey album, recorded at Randy’s Studio on North Parade, Kingston, paired the singer’s contemplative style – more like a monk overheard at prayer than a pop performance – with the ebullient musicality of a band Ruby dubbed The Black Disciples, including guitarist Earl ‘Chinna’ Smith, drummer Leroy ‘Horsemouth’ Wallace and bassist Robbie Shakespeare. Bemoaning the betrayal of Garvey and his ideals and exhorting listeners not to Jamaica’s post-colonial aftermath, yet sweet-sounding enough to propel Burning Spear to the top of Jamaica’s charts and interest Chris Blackwell’s Island Records, who would distribute it to the world (NB: their mixes differ slightly from domestic releases on Ruby’s Fox and Wolf labels).

“We do Marcus Garvey and Bob Marley do Natty Dread that year too, and Marcus Garvey Natty Dread – it was unbelievable,” remembers Horsemouth, who’d later star in the 1978 movie, Rockers. “Then I went to America with Burning Spear in 1976, for the Schaefer Music Festival, and then everybody say, ‘Who’s this guy, Horsemouth? Where these guys come from?’”

A dub companion – Garvey’s Ghost – would follow, then Man In The Hills (1976) – also produced by Jack Ruby, in sessions at Randy’s and the better-equipped Harry J’s on Roosevelt Avenue. Along with Rastafari-oriented scorchers like Lion and a jazzy scat vocal titled No More War, aimed at Jamaica’s politically-aligned street gangs, it allowed Spear to record new versions of songs he had not been properly recompensed for at Studio One, including Door expertly arranged by veteran trumpeter Bobby Ellis, was captured in all its sonic glory, as Horsemouth’s furious drumrolls and accented rimshots locked tightly with Shakespeare’s rumbling bass. It marked the end of Spear’s alliance with Ruby (all of his subsequent work has been self-produced), but he maintained a keen respect for the sound system entrepreneur.

“Jack was a good producer because Jack was a music lover,” says Spear today. “If Jack sees something in any young person out there, Jack would try to help them, musically. Jack did some good work, and there was no problem amongst us; we do two albums together and after those two albums, that was when I start my independence.”

S BURNING SPEAR TOOK OFF, MARLEY’S MANAGER

Don Taylor took him on. A former pimp linked to organised crime leaders in Miami, Taylor was adept at negotiating with overseas labels, reaping dividends in the short term. (Spear would later express dissatisfaction with the publishing deal he signed with Taylor’s Tammi Music, resulting in a lawsuit served on his behalf in a New Jersey courtroom in 2015.)

From the recording of Dry & Heavy (1977), another mix of old and new material, Taylor acted as manager and executive producer. By this time, Spear had broken with Willington and Hines, but another potent team-up was nigh. When Island brought the singer to the UK for h Aswad. As the British band’s singing sticksman, Drummie Zeb, recalls, it was a thrilling yet terrifying prospect. if we mess this up, it’s over,’” he says. “I remember setting up in the rehearsal room and Bobby Ellis came and started showing us little things, and about four hours later, Winston Rodney entered the rehearsal room, and it was like Moses himself walked in, ’cos to us as kids, Bob Marley, Burning Spear and The Abyssinians were like biblical names. The more we played, the more it felt real, so by the song and the crowd went mad, and when Burning Spear ran on, they just went 10 times worse.”

With Ellis and Spear as their teachers, all the British youngsters had to do was pay attention.

“It was a good time of learni

guitarist and frontman Brinsley that people really began to break down the stigma that classic reggae music couldn’t be made in England, ’cos there we were, a British band, playing with Burning Spear.”

For his part, Spear still values the musical chemistry with Aswad, as heard on the 1977 concert album, Live.

Aswad would make a guest appearance on Social Living, the last album Burning Spear cut before leaving Island for EMI, which released Hail H.I.M., Farover and The Fittest Of The Fittest in the early 1980s, the point Spear broke with Don Taylor. The singer would continue to record the bulk of his music in Jamaica, but by the time he began releasing it through American independents such as Slash and Heartbeat, he had shifted his base to New York.

“Because of my works, I think this is the right country to come to, because in this country, musically, things can happen,” he says. “What are you gonna do back in Jamaica? How much records you gonna sell? Who gonna be there to give you that kind of promotion to the record buyers? How much people is it going to be reaching to? When you’re in business, you have to think where you can go to make your business continue to be successful.”

N THE NEW MILLENNIUM, BURNING SPEAR performed in South Africa and Kenya, momentous occasions that helped him to reconnect with his African heritage; he also helped build an infant school and little new music since 2008’s Jah Is Real and only a handful of ensuing live gigs, the last of which was in 2016. After that, Spear appeared to embrace off-grid hermitage, and a series of caustic social media posts suggested that industry rip-offs had taken a heavy toll.

Then, during the early days of the pandemic, as conspiracy theo ments, with Sizzla even recording a song titled No Vaccine. But Burning Spear showed courage when he spoke publicly about his double-vaccination status during a lengthy interview, broadcast on radio station WPKN in April 2021.

“It meant a lot to me as an old guy, where something went wrong in another country and it reach up to where you live, and they come up with protection that you can protect yourself from getting that about criticism, and what about the man who took the vaccine and hide? I live in health, and I don’t live in criticism, so I didn’t pay that no mind.”

Thankfully, roots reggae’s elder statesman sounds hale and hearty as he contemplates the live dates in August that will consti notes, “People are always requesting me, and I know that the people

There’s a projected release, Living Dub Volume 7 – showcasing dub versions of tracks from the 2005 album Our Music. And even a hint of new Burning Spear material in the works, although fans are perhaps best advised not to hold their breath; the voice of Marcus Garvey

“For the last 12 years I’ve been working on an album by the name of No Destroyer the release of this album,” he warns. “It will be when the time is right. And everything I’ve done, I’m proud of it. My work is a gift given to I-man by the Most High, and I accept that and t.” M