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Reggae, Rastafari, and the Rhetoric of Social Control
How Jamaica fashioned a tourist beacon from reggae music and the Rastafarian revolution
200 pages, Paperback
First published November 15, 2002
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July 24, 2019
This is a solid, if sometimes impersonal, overview of the emergence of reggae music in Jamaica, under-girded by an analysis of the music's potential to spur social change, probing the limitations and pitfalls of fusing one's protest to a catchy beat.
"Reggae" starts with a cursory overview of ska music, an offbeat danceable style that used a walking bass line and some blues elements wedded to calypso inflections and other Caribbean textures to create something new for the kids in Jamaica to enjoy. Its themes dealt with poverty and other problems of the dispossessed, but mostly treated them as prosaic impediments to getting nice threads and shoes to shake one's tail-feather on Saturday night. It was not quite proto-reggae, either in musical arrangement or in its politics, but Mr. King does a good job showing how it is nevertheless an integral part of Reggae's history.
The book segues briskly through the rest of the musical styles that fused together to birth Reggae music, before turning to the political foundations of the Rastafarian movement. The author explains how Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie became the godhead of the sect, and why marijuana and growing dreadlocks were integral to the pastoral (in both senses of the word) way of life the Ras led. There's a smattering of information about patois offered in the book, but no deeper linguistic analysis. There's also some treatment of the explicitly political events that molded Reggae (the transatlantic slave trade, colonialism, etc.) as well as some of the forceful personalities that did what they could to give Jamaica back some of her autonomy and identity; the author is a bit ambivalent regarding Prime Minister Michael Manley, showing him at times to be sincere and at other times to be a bit feckless or too willing to play the mulatto middleman tasked with making just enough concessions to the black population in order to keep them from violently overthrowing the white (now mostly absentee) neo-colonial ruler (sort of like Obama, although in terms of literal melanin density Barry looks like Bernie Mac compared to Manley).
The study ends with the author casting an understandably rueful eye toward the commodification of Rastafarianism as a selling point to lure tourists to Jamaica with the promise of smiling, upbeat Rasta men who exist solely to take white families on jet-ski jaunts and para-sail rides over the crystal blue waters of the tiny island. The first Rastafarians, influenced by Marcus Garvey's dream of mass pan-Africanism and repatriation to the Motherland, probably would not be overjoyed to see their spiritual offspring handing out towels to petulant white children at hotel resorts or acting as gigolos for older affluent white women, who, having exhausted their interest in 50 Shades and other traditional bodice-rippers, decide to have a sinful and taboo "Mandigo" fling at the cabana.
Stephen A. King's gimlet-eyed conclusion is that music as a vehicle for social change is not quite sufficient. Music is too easy to co-opt (think of politicians using songs whose spirit sometimes runs contrary to their campaigns), and the message of the music is often easy to ignore, when the beat is catchy enough and the ganja chalice is lit. Think of mixed martial artists using "Rage Against the Machine" songs as their ring-walk music, or your local pot dealer with a Bob Marley black light velvet poster on his wall, and you'll see King's point.
There are no photos, which seems like a bit of an oversight, but the job done by the author is respectable and worth a read for those curious about the intersection of music and politics. If you like some theory but prefer not to see it running roughshod over the subject, but rather invoked from time to time as a reference point to give the study its bearings, then you could do worse. Recommended.
"Reggae" starts with a cursory overview of ska music, an offbeat danceable style that used a walking bass line and some blues elements wedded to calypso inflections and other Caribbean textures to create something new for the kids in Jamaica to enjoy. Its themes dealt with poverty and other problems of the dispossessed, but mostly treated them as prosaic impediments to getting nice threads and shoes to shake one's tail-feather on Saturday night. It was not quite proto-reggae, either in musical arrangement or in its politics, but Mr. King does a good job showing how it is nevertheless an integral part of Reggae's history.
The book segues briskly through the rest of the musical styles that fused together to birth Reggae music, before turning to the political foundations of the Rastafarian movement. The author explains how Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie became the godhead of the sect, and why marijuana and growing dreadlocks were integral to the pastoral (in both senses of the word) way of life the Ras led. There's a smattering of information about patois offered in the book, but no deeper linguistic analysis. There's also some treatment of the explicitly political events that molded Reggae (the transatlantic slave trade, colonialism, etc.) as well as some of the forceful personalities that did what they could to give Jamaica back some of her autonomy and identity; the author is a bit ambivalent regarding Prime Minister Michael Manley, showing him at times to be sincere and at other times to be a bit feckless or too willing to play the mulatto middleman tasked with making just enough concessions to the black population in order to keep them from violently overthrowing the white (now mostly absentee) neo-colonial ruler (sort of like Obama, although in terms of literal melanin density Barry looks like Bernie Mac compared to Manley).
The study ends with the author casting an understandably rueful eye toward the commodification of Rastafarianism as a selling point to lure tourists to Jamaica with the promise of smiling, upbeat Rasta men who exist solely to take white families on jet-ski jaunts and para-sail rides over the crystal blue waters of the tiny island. The first Rastafarians, influenced by Marcus Garvey's dream of mass pan-Africanism and repatriation to the Motherland, probably would not be overjoyed to see their spiritual offspring handing out towels to petulant white children at hotel resorts or acting as gigolos for older affluent white women, who, having exhausted their interest in 50 Shades and other traditional bodice-rippers, decide to have a sinful and taboo "Mandigo" fling at the cabana.
Stephen A. King's gimlet-eyed conclusion is that music as a vehicle for social change is not quite sufficient. Music is too easy to co-opt (think of politicians using songs whose spirit sometimes runs contrary to their campaigns), and the message of the music is often easy to ignore, when the beat is catchy enough and the ganja chalice is lit. Think of mixed martial artists using "Rage Against the Machine" songs as their ring-walk music, or your local pot dealer with a Bob Marley black light velvet poster on his wall, and you'll see King's point.
There are no photos, which seems like a bit of an oversight, but the job done by the author is respectable and worth a read for those curious about the intersection of music and politics. If you like some theory but prefer not to see it running roughshod over the subject, but rather invoked from time to time as a reference point to give the study its bearings, then you could do worse. Recommended.
Displaying 1 of 1 review