When There Is No Courage or Message: Reggae Artists Without a Real Meaning
“When I grow up, I will be a Gladiator.” At the age of sixteen, I wrote that on a school desk during English class in high school.
The reference to “Gladiator” was about the legendary Jamaican band The Gladiators. For me, The Gladiators represented all the values I wanted to embody in life. A soothing voice that poured truth at any cost – even if it meant working day and night on construction sites while still creating music from the heart and from reality.
Take for example their debut under the “villain” Joe Gibbs (who, despite his bad reputation, brought some of the greatest reggae music of all time to the scene – and for that he must be credited). Their first album “Trenchtown Mix Up” is brutally raw and direct, the very essence of roots reggae. Songs like Eli Eli, Looks is Deceiving, and the fierce Bellyfull.
Here is the translation and meaning of the key lines in Bellyfull:
“Rice won’t swell, man belly nah go full” – when there’s no food, people go hungry.
“Bangarang” – Jamaican slang for disorder, riot, chaos.
“Hawk and patou race” – metaphor for the struggle of unequals (hawk against dove, the powerful against the weak).
“Everyone will see who a the Gorgon / hero” – in times of crisis, the true leader or warrior shows himself.
The message is clear: when people are hungry and crushed by injustice, disorder and rebellion erupt – but in that struggle the real leader and fighter for justice comes to light.
That is reggae – not just love, peace, summer, and prosperity as it is often packaged and sold today.
New Wave False Reggae
The way reggae is perceived today, the blame lies with the so-called new wave artists who nestled themselves into the hybrid capitalist system and mainstream entertainment. If they speak the truth and follow the essence of reggae – the very reason Roots Reggae was born – record labels will sideline them, festivals will cancel them for “antisemitic expressions,” and they will be placed under musical embargo. So even the little truth they try to speak must be wrapped in cellophane so the system doesn’t recognize antibodies to its own existence.
Now that I’ve grown up, built something, and gathered enough strength and knowledge, I decided to keep the promise I carved into that school desk. In the era of autotune, immoral values, plastic and commercial music – in the era when children are listening to anti-human values – I try to revive the legacy of Albert Griffiths, Peter Tosh, Israel Vibration, Bob Marley, Burning Spear, Daweh Congo, and others.
My project “Good Foundation,” named after Albert Griffiths’ song, I called “Roots Revival.” (A term misused today for a distorted modern reggae sound, but here it stands for a real roots reggae revival.)
The festival is focused on the roots reggae sound. The purpose is not to be some financial miracle, but to give back to the founders of reggae, to thank them for their legacy. To return courage and love the same way it was given – without reserve, firm, decisive, and in their face. Like a Gladiator.
Roots Revival
I have brought many musicians, but only a few had the fairness and strength to face the consequences. Mostly the younger rising stars. Take Micah Shemaiah – a true Rasta, member of the Twelve Tribes of Israel (referring to ancient Israel), who with his album Jamaica Jamaica really clarified some things.
Just over a month ago, I had the honor to host the legendary Twinkle Brothers. And God, how Norman, even in his eighth decade, still has that spark in his eyes and rawness in his words. Sixty years without mercy when it comes to speaking truth. How is it that today’s reggae artists can’t see this?
And then some people say: “Thanks to promoters for bringing in new forces, not just focusing on the legends and the foundation.”
New forces have no patience. They demand huge resources for a market that doesn’t exist – precisely because their messages are weak and faceless. Their songs hide behind coded meanings. They became entertainers instead of musicians who should be voicing their deepest values and meanings. They don’t realize that this way neither festivals nor the music itself will survive.
The Marley Foundation – monopoly and destruction
Reggae today is faceless, commercial, bending itself to the market while record labels dictate the terms. The Marley Foundation has become the self-destruction of the reggae industry – monopolizing, limiting music and musicians.
The Marley Foundation even controls Jamaica’s diplomatic representation. Embassies directly work with Tuff Gong Studio. Everyone bends to please Rita Marley’s project, who seems to channel her frustration – that Bob Marley fathered children with so many women – into revenge on the entire industry and his legacy:
“You practically created this, and I will, as revenge, stop your entire reggae.”
That’s probably a message from the shadows by Rita.
Message to the Artists of Today
To the young generation entering reggae, I say this: “Approach music like Gladiators. The craftmanship is gold today. Work your job to survive, and in the pauses, create reggae from the soul – like the founding fathers did.”
Author: Jah Tooth
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