Banton and Marley

If you think Buju Banton was contesting Bob Marley's 'greatness' at the launch of Rasta Got Soul you've settled for a distorted account of the event. In the mediated culture of the sound byte and the sensational headline it's all too easy to keep half-truths in circulation. Perhaps the issue is language. As Buju puts it so wittily, "Sometime I no like English; I rather Outlish. So I create I own word. I want to speak out and Outlish provide that avenue."

Here's a transcript of what outspoken Buju actually said, unfiltered by hype: "I want Jamaica and Jamaica music to be seen not on the pretext of some man who did something and died over 20 years ago. But on the pretext of living beings like myself who are working earnestly ... making my contribution as a living, breathing man. 'Cause if man cannot do what other men have done, in this time, we may as well die. You don't tell me that the greatest musician that Jamaica have is Bob Marley. I don't believe that. Jamaica still have greater musicians to come. He was one of the most promoted, the most promoted and well-promoted. And we have to appreciate that because is our culture. But don't kill our culture with one individual. Enough is enough."

Even Bob Marley would agree: "I tell you, one man a-walking/And a billion man a-sparking." That mystical little couplet from Marley's heartical Rasta Man Live Up! poetically expresses Bob's 'overstanding' that sparks of creativity fly from billions of people. Brilliance is not the exclusive property of a singular genius, treadding alone through creation. It is the sum total of the accumulated wisdom of a people, transmitted from one generation to the next. This conception of collective genius is especially true for Marley whose lyrics draw so deeply on Jamaican proverbs and biblical allusions.

What Buju appropriately asserted at the launch of Rasta Got Soul was his own sense of mission "in this time". Enough is enough. For one great man is not enough to fulfil all the dreams and aspirations of generations yet to come. We cannot foreclose greatness on the complacent assumption that "the greatest" has already come and gone.

So Buju threw out a challenge to his contemporaries to make their own contribution to the musical heritage of Jamaica: "How long do we expect Burning Spear, Jimmy Cliff, Toots an di Maytals an' all these great man to go on an carry dis banner? Where are the other young ones who they have inspired to come and make di next generation of musical lovers come alive? I no seh a me. But mi a try make a good contribution to that faculty."

One of the great ones who inspire Buju is Burning Spear. On tour in France in the 1990s, Buju had an epiphany: "Next onstage was Burning Spear. Di man deliver such a set dat if dem never call mi right weh, mi just run come back a Jamaica. So mi inna di dressing room now an mi start tink inna mi self, it start come to me, 'Mark, you're not ready for this. No, you're not. Yu lickle b.. rider and yu lickle love mi browning weak. Dis bigger dan you, man.' What deliver a further slap in the face was a man went out there an stand up on a chair, believe me, an seh 'Mamaaa!' Im name Linton Kwesi Johnson. Mi never hear bout him yet, until da night deh. Di man mash up di place. When dem call mi, I was so, mi mash up already from backstage, mi can admit it. I went an I did my ting like a shame puppy."

The very next day, Buju turned to Lee 'Scratch' Perry for a spliff and advice: "Lee, mi waan music, Iyah! Weh mi see di I dem a do, an mi see dem a play, mi cyaan, mi mi waan music, man." This was Lee's response: "Heh heh heh heh heh! Yu have to go out and make the music that the people can feel wid a humanistic approach." The result was the Gargamel's masterful Til Shiloh.

elderly gatekeepers

Buju Banton is the voice of a whole generation of not-so-young singers, players of instruments and riders of 'riddims' who are crying out to be taken seriously by elderly gatekeepers who assume the right to determine who is great and who is doomed to mediocrity.

Buju declares: "I must learn from the great ones. I cannot reinvent the wheel. But I do not want to be someone who you see only as dem shadow. Yu know, I want to emerge an be miself, fi speak fi mi nation an speak mi mind."

Buju's respect for Bob Marley's legacy is evident in his appropriation of the rather squeaky original ska, Destiny, transforming it into his own sonorous anthem of self-affirmation:

You know not the destiny of a

next man

Why hold him? Set him free!

For too long I, I wanna rule my

destiny

Oh yeah, I and I really wanna

rule my destiny

Hear me call, call, call

Mama look when you calling

My destination is homeward

bound

No forces try hold I down

Breaking chains has become the

norm

I know I must get through no

matter wat a gwaan

Destiny, Mama look from when

you calling!

Buju's 'destiny' is not the same as Bob Marley's: "I am talented in your estimation, yes? But if I did brown I woulda be more talented, don't? I am aware of who I am. I know who I am in this society and I don't fool myself no day, no time. I more try to protect myself an keep myself away from it."

And Buju insists that not even Bob Marley's sons should be forced to bear the burdens of their father's destiny: "Weh mi a say to unu is no kill unu culture. Don't try to hear di next person and seh he is going to be di next Bob. It can't be. Bob have nice sons. Bout five a dem to seven a dem. Low the youths dem, mek dem become who dem destined to be."

Across the decades, Bob Marley sends a message to strengthen Buju Banton "inna disya Armagideon". No contest:

Rasta man, live up

Bongo man, don't give up

Congo man, live up, yeah

Binghi man, no give up

Keep your culture

Don't be afraid of the vulture

Grow your dreadlocks

Don't be afraid of the wolf pack

Rasta man live up

Carolyn Cooper is a professor of literary and cultural studies and director of the Institute of Caribbean Studies, at UWI, Mona. She may be contacted at karokupa@gmail.com. Feedback may also be sent to columns@gleanerjm.com.