“Its about the love—if that’s the word ya wanna use.” I frantically tried to scribble down the red, green and golden words coming from the dreadlock’s mouth. “But more than that it’s about giving that love back. Giving that feeling back.”
“Its about the love” I repeated to myself on my way back from Mr. Kyps. The words seemed simple enough, but when they come from a Rasta, they seem to take on a whole new meaning. Bob sang incessantly about love. Not the kind of love you might hear come from the heaving chest of whatever lollipop songstress MTV has chosen to molest at the time, but a transcendent love, a worldly love. Desmond Tutu once said, “Giving is more blessed than receiving… Because in giving, although it doesn’t seem so, you receive.” Ras I Ray was obviously privy to this concept when he took the stage Friday night at the concert hall, Mr. Kyps, in Poole.
As the leader of Easy Star All Stars, Ras I Ray took the stage that evening with a smile on his face. That smile never faded. Even when the crowd was merely swaying in silence at the beginning of the show, he grinned—leading me to believe that no ganja farm could ever bring this Rasta the happiness and joy that comes along with playing his music, others music, in front of a crowd. It was Love.
Originally formed in 1997 for Easy Star Records’ earliest recordings, the Easy Star All-Stars existed mostly as a studio entity until releasing Dub Side of the Moon in 2003. The group, which operates as a collective with a rotating cast of musicians and singers, was put together by Easy Star co-founders Michael Goldwasser, Eric Smith and Lem Oppenheimer. Their fame stems from a day in the studio when they foolhardily decided to do a “dub” on Pink Floyd’s iconic album Dark Side of the Moon. It was this album that would bring Easy Star All Stars to the attention of not only the reggae scene, but to fans of music in and of itself.
“We were just in the studio one day when [someone suggested] we play Dark Side [of the Moon].” Menny More said after the show. “We didn’t know it was gonna be so good. When I heard the final cut I was amazed.”
After the success of Dub Side, East Star went on to cover equally historic albums, dubbing the Beetles Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Dub Band as well as Radiohead’s piéce de résistance OK Computer. Ignoring record sales and fan hearsay, the entire band cites Dub Side… as their biggest achievement, its popularity justifying Easy Star’s cover of one of modern music’s greatest albums — a statement less hyperbolic than it may seem.
The concert began with an air of suspicion. Easy Star started the set out with several tracks of their own, songs of which the audience was abundantly ignorant of as they forcibly swayed in anticipation of the band turning it up to the proverbial ‘Eleven’.
The kick in the ass the audience needed eventually came in the form of ‘Sgt. Peppers’. The thumping electric bass from Ras I Ray combined with the instantly recognizable, fully gained electric riff introduced the song. It seems useless to describe how the crowd reacted to this. For anyone that has been to any sort of concert, you know the feeling. Your heart constricts and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the crowd roars in acknowledgement of the song that has begun. The Caucasian Dreadlocks started swinging and with that the sweet smell of ganja permeates the room—your nostrils flare and your mouth waters. This is what we were waiting for: a real reggae concert.
The crescendo of the set came when Ras I Ray took the microphone for the first time, introducing the band and consequently the next song. “Me-a know ya gonna know dis heya song so it really don’t need no introduction” he said. With that he took to his bass and played the band in. ‘Karma Police’. Though I myself was not as familiar with Radiohead, the audience obviously was. They swayed and sang in unison as if ‘Karma Police’ was the only song they were waiting to hear. They loved it. The band loved it. The band tightened and loosened at the same time, notes became crisper as musical rigidity gave way to the power of improvisation and everyone under the dark and hazy roof of Mr. Kyps that night lost themselves in the music as a singular sense usurped priority from all others as the haunting ska beat of ‘Karma Police’ filled our ears.
And for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself.
That feeling, or more accurately, emotion, stayed with all of us for the rest of the night as we left the venue for the cold and humid airs of Poole. After a few tokes from the spliff of a 40-something man child who handed me his business card, I knew why Ras I Ray had described that feeling the way he did. It wasn’t musician-speak, nor was it an off the cuff comment to a pestering journalist. It was the only word available to describe such a feeling, such a transcendent emotion that exists purely in music. And so as I look back on the concert the one thing that remains burned to my frontal lobe was the smile of that Dreadlock’s face. He knew it and now so did I. It was the perfect description. It was Love.
WHAT TO DO NOW?