Every Little Thing Gonna Be Alright (25 page)

The recording in question is “The Birth Of A Legend 1963–1966,” a collection of 20 singles recorded by Marley & the Wailers in a Kingston, Jamaica, studio owned and operated by the legendary reggae producer, Clement (Sir Coxsone) Dodd. The songs—in the pre-reggae style known as ska—were hit singles in the Caribbean, preparing the band for the worldwide success it later attained. These tracks sound somewhat like R&B records of the time, and, in fact, represented a merger of American black pop music and jazz with existing Jamaican styles.

The remastered album collection, released by Sony Corp’s Epic Associated label, has been among the best-selling reggae reissues of all time. SoundScan says the recording has sold 118,000 copies in the U.S. from the time the market research firm began reporting retail sales in January 1991 through May of this year.

However, both Dodd and principals of the Marley estate claim that they have not received a dollar of the money made on these releases. In an interview with
Billboard,
Dodd says that he had talks with Sony (and its predecessor company, CBS Records) several years ago. “It was getting somewhere and then it went blank about three or four years ago,” Dodd says.

Marley’s widow, Rita Marley, told
Billboard
that she never received royalties from Dodd or Sony on any of her husband’s early ska recordings. Dodd says that he “took the blame” for that situation for many years.

But that may be rectified soon, at least in Dodd’s case. He says Sony has again begun talks with him and his attorney. “They promised they would try to come to a reasonable settlement,” he says.

A spokesperson for Sony Music says, “Our relationship with Clement Dodd is an amicable one and we are currently in negotiations. So it is inappropriate for us to comment at this time.”

The story begins in 1963 when Marley, Bunny Livingston, Peter Tosh, and Beverly Kelso—the original Wailers—recorded the first of the ska singles for Dodd’s Studio One label at his studio in Kingston.

At that time in Jamaica, there was no sophisticated royalty system in place. Sound recording there was unlike the situation that existed in other countries. The producer, rather than the songwriter or performer, controlled the rights to the music. Dodd said that practice was justified because in Jamaica, a producer hired mu- sicians for a flat fee and exercised more creative control over them than was found in ordinary recording sessions. “I had, like, a stable of musicians and artists under contract,” said Dodd. “I had my own studio and at the time, I was in the business. I knew how to direct the musicians.”

After the singles became hits in Jamaica, Dodd says he licensed them to Chris Blackwell for distribution in the U.K. (Blackwell later signed Marley & the Wailers to his Island Records label.)

Visiting the U.S. in the mid-’70s, Dodd says he met a fellow Jamaican, Nate McCalla, who was in the music business. McCalla also was an associate of Morris Levy, the notorious record retailer, label head, and impresario whose exploits were documented in Fredric Dannen’s book,
Hit Men
. Dannen wrote that McCalla—a 6-foot-tall, 250-pound ex-paratrooper, sometimes referred to as “Big Bad Leroy Brown”—was said to be Levy’s “enforcer” and that his loyalty was rewarded with his own label, Calla Records.

Dodd says he cut a deal with McCalla in 1976, agreeing to “lease” but not sell the ska masters to him. Dodd says McCalla released the singles in 1976 in a two-record album set on the Calla imprint called “The Birth of a Legend.” Dodd adds that McCalla gave him a check for $5,000 as an advance, but the check bounced.

Although Dodd has been publicly critical of the subtle overdubbing on Sony’s masters of these Wailers ska singles, he acknowledges that he supervised the overdubbing process. He says the redubbing included the addition of more drums and other percussion to the raw tracks—for example, some high-hat cymbals to increase the “brilliance of the top end.”

Although Dodd says he never got a dime from McCalla, for the past 18 years he did not file suit against him or take other measures to either recoup his masters or seek payment for their widely advertised dissemination. “Nobody knew where he was,” says Dodd of McCalla. “His address was unknown for a couple of years. I couldn’t find him.”

According to “Hit Men,” McCalla disappeared in 1977 after a concert deal involving the Genovese mob family went sour. In 1980, he “turned up in a rented house in Fort Lauderdale, dead of a gunshot wound in the back of his head, which had literally exploded,” the book stated. No suspects were found.

In the years between McCalla’s acquisition of the masters from Dodd and his mysterious disappearance, the rights were sold to CBS Records (now Sony Music). It is unclear who cut the deal with Sony, but some sources believe it was Levy, not McCalla. Levy died of cancer in 1990. Sony declines to make a copy of the contract available.

In May 1977, the ska singles were released by CBS as a two-album set on vinyl, titled, “The Birth of a Legend” and “Early Music.” In April 1984, the songs came out on two CBS cassettes under the same titles with the band listed as Bob Marley & the Wailers featuring Peter Tosh.

In 1990, Sony’s Epic Associated label decided to release the set on CD for the first time. Its master tapes were remastered by audio expert Stephen St. Croix, whose Revectoring (noise removal and stereo imaging) technique also was used by him in the restoration of the film soundtrack to “The Wizard Of Oz.” Sony then reissued the fully restored set on one album, now titled “The Birth of a Legend 1963–1966,” to distinguish it from the label’s previous reissues of Marley’s ska music using the “legend” design.

But because the original sale or lease of the masters to McCalla was executed with a check that allegedly bounced, the question has been raised whether this transaction and the subsequent sale to Sony might be illegal or invalid.

Dodd says he did not seek litigation against CBS/Sony over the years because “we figured we are a small person and we wouldn’t have a chance against a big corporation.”

About four or five years ago, Dodd hired a royalty-collecting company that was working toward an agreement with Sony, but the firm went out of business before a deal could be concluded. Meanwhile, Dodd continued over the years to release the Wailers ska singles in various compilations on his own label in Jamaica and abroad, but he says sales of these were not as great as those of the Sony albums. (A compilation of the same ska singles released by Rounder/Heartbeat in 1991 and called “One Love” has sold 8,500 copies to date, according to SoundScan.)

M. William Krasilovsky, an attorney who deals with music copyright matters, says that “Jamaica was a no man’s land on copyrights” for many years. Regarding the legal ownership of master tapes that may have been acquired with a bogus check, the lawyer said, “If Sony/CBS bought the rights without noticing the fraudulent transfer, they have a legal right if they can show they were a bona fide purchaser for value.”

A
LOS Angeles movie producer has filed a $ 1 million lawsuit against Universal Studios Florida and several family members of the late reggae star Bob Marley, claiming he was cut out of a deal to develop a Marley-themed complex for the amusement park.

In papers filed in Los Angeles Superior Court June 9, Andrew Gaty alleges he initiated negotiations between Marley family heirs and Universal Studios Florida but had the idea taken from him without permission or compensation.

Gaty is suing for “breach of implied in fact contract,” breach of confidence, misappropriation, fraud, and other charges (
Billboard Bulletin
, June 11).

Defendants listed in court papers include Marley Boys Inc.; Rita Marley, the widow of the reggae legend; Richard Booker; Cedella Marley Booker; Universal Studios Florida; and three other Universal divisions connected to the theme park.

Universal Studios Florida announced plans for a Marley entertainment complex in February 1996. The complex, to be named “Bob Marley—A Tribute To Freedom,” is scheduled to open in early 1998 (Billboard, March 2, 1996).

In the lawsuit, Gaty says he approached the Marley heirs in early 1995 to discuss “ways in which the Bob Marley name and legacy could be exploited for profit.”

Among the ideas discussed, according to the lawsuit, were a movie and a replica of Marley’s home in Jamaica that would be the model for a restaurant, club, and retail venue. The Marley house venue would have been opened in different locations around the world.

Gaty then suggested the family take the idea to executives at Universal Studios Florida, according to court papers.

The lawsuit claims Gaty “sold” the idea of the Marley venue to Universal at a pitch meeting held in April 1995 with all parties present. Gaty, who had no written contract with either Universal or the Mar-ley family, says the parties accepted his idea with the “knowledge and understanding that the idea was the property of Gaty and could not be used without his knowledge or consent,” according to the lawsuit.

In addition, Gaty was to receive profit participation in the Marley venue concept, the suit claims.

A spokeswoman for Universal declined to comment on the lawsuit; a representative for the Marley heirs could not be reached for comment by press time.

M
arley, largely influenced by his half-brother Bunny “Wailer”
Livingston and their acquaintance with Mortimo Planno, became a major proponent of Jamaica’s singular religion, Rastafarianism. As such, he became a spokesman for the movement, an icon within it. Bob’s relationship with Rastafarianism is certainly complex.

On the one hand, he never saw himself as anything more or less than a mouthpiece, a spokesperson for what he believed. While he mildly derided the gospel music his grandfather would listen to, he was making a kind of gospel of his own, preaching a gospel of Rastafarianism. Marley’s gospel, however, had his own personal bent, one that could be traced from “Simmer Down” through “Redemption Song”: “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery.” His take on his religion centered on what makes it—and most other religions, properly practiced—righteous: the ability of people to better themselves.

On the other hand, the power of both his message and his faith inspired millions, not necessarily to become Rastafarians, but to respond to the heart of the message, to improve themselves and the way they interacted with their fellow man. Especially in his later music, his message had less to do with blaming Babylon and more to do with advancing the state of humanity.

With that message, he could be a modern prophet in any religion.

I
n any discussion of Reggae music in general, and Bob Marley in particular, it is important to address the concept of Rastafari, since it is from this consciousness that Marley lives and creates his music.
He has achieved a oneness of purpose that predominates in his existence and his art.

Reggae music had its beginnings in the 1960’s in Jamaica, and incorporated American R & B sound with Jamaican rhythms. Groups such as Bob Marley and the Wailers (which included Peter Tosh), Jimmy Cliff, Toots and the Maytals, and the Mighty Diamonds became popular. Marley’s early work, then as now, focused on the plight of Jamaica’s poor in Trenchtown, Kingston’s ghetto.

Reggae became the music of the Rastafarians, a sect founded by Marcus Garvey, which believes in the divinity of Haile Selassie I, former Emperor of Ethiopia. Evidence of Selassie’s divinity is traced through the Bible, as are many other aspects of Rasta culture and consciousness. Selassie, or God, is referred to as Jah, and his followers as Rastafarians, after Selassie’s title—Ras Tafari. Asked what the movement stands for, Marley reveals that, “In 1930 when His Majesty was crowned, the movement get stronger, and it take the name Rasta. This movement deal with Christianity in reality, so this what happening in the world.”

While the movement does advocate the Christian ideals of peace and love, it is also concerned with bringing about the actuality of unity among all Black people and eventual repatriation to the motherland. These are very strong themes in Marley’s latest album, which features on its cover both the stowage plan of a slave ship and the flags of all African nations. The album includes such titles as “Zimbabwe,” “Africa Unite,” “Wake Up and Live,” and “Survival.”

As an indication of Marley’s consciousness, he released “Wake Up and Live” as a U.S. single, and “Ambush in The Night” as the Jamaican single, because as he states, “‘Ambush in the Night’ is a reality in Jamaica right now. ‘Wake Up and Live’ is needed up here. People won’t wake up and live up here.”

As the vanguard of the political movement in Jamaica, the Rasta-farians suffer as much political and economic oppression as U.S. Blacks. They are subject to imprisonment and unemployment; their children are denied an education because of their hair—dreadlocks— symbol of the Rastafari. But they continue to fight for freedom and dignity. Marley feels, “We grow more and more every day . . . the Rasta movement in Jamaica is the movement . . . Rasta is the only one to stand up and fight.”

“The society in Jamaica is in line with any other society. Like for instance now, we as Rasta in Jamaica. The government is not Rasta government. The government different. That mean, even if you not a Rasta, you going to be an outcast . . . society is not for Rasta . . . Rasta government give people freedom. No terrorization, brutalization. I can run our own life. People in authority carry tradition of the devil. They know exactly what I’m fighting against.”

Considering the vehemence with which any movement of oppressed people is undermined by the European power structure and its media, it is curious that Marley and Reggae have survived. Even more curious is the fact that Marley’s audiences are predominantly white, and Reggae receives very little airtime on Black radio stations. White artists such as the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Barbra Streisand, and others have experimented with Reggae sound and incorporated it into their acts, once again usurping Black creativity. Marley concedes that the majority of his audiences are white, but notes that “there’s more Blacks . . . listening to the music.” He has recently established his own record label, Tough Gong International, and hopefully can establish more control over the distribution of his music.

A step in that direction was achieved during his recent tour of Africa. In addition to having his music well received during his tour, Marley was able to define his own opinions of the motherland. “My general impression is that Africa need Black people, all sides of Africa, because Africa need the development that the people of the West know . . . everything we learn that is benefit of community.”

“Africa is more revolutionized today than yesterday. The real thing is that Africa (doesn’t) unite as Rasta. They unite as Marx and Lenin . . .” Marley notes the case of the Soviet presence in Ethiopia and their attempt to set up Soviet-style government, “they should not be there.” Marley plans to move to Africa himself “as soon as our work is finished . . . what you have to understand, what’s going on can’t go on too long. Anyway, it just can’t go on too long.”

Marley tries to bring about positive growth through his music and none of his musical energy is wasted. There is a constant struggle to enlighten, to teach, to revolutionize. In describing his music during a discussion of the labels invariably placed upon that which is different, Marley comments: “You might have people who don’t know—people who can’t play music. And then ones who limit the inspiration of the musician . . . what I deal with, I tell the truth . . . freedom of mankind. Lyrics can be the truth. Even disco, you can sing a Rasta message. I never have anything bad to say about music, but lyrics. . . . In time, make people know the truth.”

Perhaps one of Marley’s biggest personal achievements was the One Love concert staged in Jamaica in April 1978. This concert was an attempt to bring together the rival youth gangs which were literally killing each other. The message was peace and unity. “It has made a change, youth and youth come together. That is the biggest change I ever make anywhere.”

Bob Marley has been criticized by some for his use of ganja, or Jamaican marijuana. It is another aspect of Rasta culture, which most outsiders do not fully understand. The use of ganja is considered a sacrament, a form of meditation. “Herb is the healer of the nation. If you smoke, smoke herb. Rastaman use herb for meditation. Especially in our busy world like this, you smoke herb . . . what is going on, it still can’t trouble you . . . keep your meditation.”

While everyone may not agree with this statement on herb, one can’t deny that Marley’s potential as a moving force behind Black cultural consciousness is great. His music is popular in such diverse areas as the Caribbean, the U.S., Africa, England (especially within London’s large population of Blacks), and Canada (primarily Toronto).

In any case, it is important that artists such as Bob Marley and other Rasta/Reggae musicians be supported in their struggle to continue producing “music with a message.” With this in mind, representatives of the Progressive Arts Center in Chicago held a reception for Bob Marley and the Wailers in November 1979. Marley was given the Asanti name Osahane, meaning “redeemer.”

In light of some of the negative statements about Marley, his music and Rasta culture put forth by the white press, he clearly deserves our support. A major Chicago music critic once said of Marley: “With foot-long dread locks flying about with every shake of his heed, and eyes that have probably been at half-mast since puberty, Marley still retains the charisma of a drug-addled tropical mystic.” Such a conception merely indicates the critic’s very limited understanding of Bob Marley and his music, and is, therefore, a thoroughly irresponsible review. It is this type of assessment that undermines progressive attempts by Black people to continue to struggle for survival. Marley’s latest album, aptly titled,
Survival
, is a testament to both his struggle as well as ours.

A
S I stand in front of Bob Marley’s former home, at 56 Hope Road in Kingston, now the site of the Bob Marley Museum, watching busloads of Japanese and German tourists drive through the iron gate and park on the now blacktopped field where, twenty years ago, I saw Bob, Alan “Skill” Cole, and other Rastafarians play soccer, a perhaps appropriately cynical thought crosses my mind: well, at least the King of Reggae, the Lion of Jamaica, isn’t buried in the backyard like a pet gerbil, the way Elvis is at Graceland.

Following the musician’s death fourteen years ago (he would have been fifty last February) and other wrenching disasters—including the murder of Peter Tosh (one of the original members of Marley’s trio, the Wailers) and the still unresolved litigation over Marley’s reputed $30 million estate—the Bob Marley fan is thankful for small favors. Even as I walk past the bulbous statue of Marley done in cement, which looms, golemlike, over the front yard, and am led through the museum’s somewhat meager collection of memorabilia inside the two-story, jalousied house (“Dis dere is Bob’s blender, where he mix up healthy ital [‘holy’] drinks. . . . Dis is de tree ’bout which Bob wrote ‘Three Little Birds’. . . . Dere’s Bob’s rusted bicycle. . . . Dere’s a buncha articles written ’bout Bob”), it is not difficult to remember another time.

This was the early fall of 1975, scant months after the fall of Saigon, when the properly stoned observer might easily have mistaken the small but culturally fecund island of Jamaica in general, and 56 Hope Road in particular, for the temporary center of the universe. Back then it seemed that no one had ever encountered anything as splendid as Robert Nesta Marley (already the most famous man in Jamaica but not yet the huge international pop star he would become), sitting on the front steps of this ramshackle great house, dreadlocks hanging over his face, strumming out a few verses of his most recent local radio smash, “Jah Live.” When he sang, reedily, “fools sayin’ in dere heart/Rasta yar God is dead . . . The truth is an offense but not a sin/is he laugh last, is he who win . . . Jah lives,” it was enough to make me weep.

I’ll never know exactly why the often irascible-with-white-folks author of “Burnin’ and Lootin’” chose to favor me with this private little concert, unless it was because he’d just saved my life, more or less, by shooing away several of his former associates from Trench Town. (Wielding machetes, they had accosted me in the upstairs hallway of his house, stolen my ticket for the upcoming Wailers concert with Stevie Wonder, and locked me in the room that now contains “The Bob Marley Library.”) It was an emotional time. Haile Selassie, the emperor of Ethiopia, proclaimed Lion of Judah, alleged 225th direct descendant in a line back to King Solomon, the man worshiped by Rastafarians as Jah, or “the living God,” had recently died. The brethren looked to Marley, the best-known Rastafarian in the world, to comment on this unsettling metaphysical development. “Jah Live” was his rejoinder. “Jah live because you can’t kill God.”