Tag Archives: Jah Shaka

Jah Shaka: Testament of Dub

Great little interview of the legendary Jah Shaka and his thoughts on the dub-reggae scene in the far-east (via JUICE):

Perhaps the greatest sin committed by the dance scene today, in certain parts of the world at least, isn’t its perceived dwindling quality. That point is infinitely arguable. Instead, it’s the lack of attention paid to sound on a more obvious level – not the technicality of composition, not the how of the music, but something more basic; the sound system with which these tunes are amplified on. Jah Shaka was one of the pioneers of sound system culture, a Jamaican subculture that was brought to the UK during a tumultuous time in their migration history. Any of the genres that branched off dub you pay allegiance to right now owe the seemingly immortal Rastafarian an invaluable debt. Shaka’s lecture during Red Bull Music Academy 2014 in Tokyo was expectedly an erudition of the importance of audio – from trajectory and acoustics to the effects of potent bass on a biological level to aural spirituality. JUICE had the rare opportunity to converse with the living legend, and filtered through the Jamaican-inflection of the man’s Ent-like pace of speech were the words of a godly man whose testament was less proselytising and more universally positive.

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to talk to you. It’s already a pleasure to attend your lecture! To start our own little session – we’re not sure if it’s a rumour, but we heard you actually dislike standing on stage when you play? You’d rather be with the crowd, in a circle of people. 
Yeah. Mostly with our sound system when the crowd is around us, we feel energy from fans, feel energy from the crowd. We like to do that. In travelling, sometimes better on stage, too much people, too near. So, sometimes abroad it’s better to be on stage although we like to be amongst the people. But when you’re with people who don’t understand you, you have to first balance it out. When they know you, then you can be near them.

You’ve been to Japan quite a lot…
Japan… about 17 years. I’ve been to Australia… tour in Israel, Germany, Italy. So many countries! Nonstop.

There’s another rumour we would like to check if it’s true. Was there one show where the lights were so hot that your dubplates melted and you walked off stage?
No, rumour! (Laughs)

When you’re a legend, there are many rumours. Music is very spiritual to you. What about people who don’t believe in religion but when they listen to your music, they find themselves getting lost in it. How does that work when you don’t believe but still find the music ‘spiritual’? 
What we are doing is planting seeds to grow. So when you hear something, you go into the community and practise. It’s good. And then you get to believe after. When people tell you, “You are a good man,” people say, “You are doing well,” [it’s] so you will know that you are doing something good. Whether someone believes in the beginning, they will believe eventually because of feedback from people. You have to know that when you’re playing [the] keyboard and you play a wrong note, you have to know that the note is wrong! [It’s] not good note… so religion – religion to us – is a way of life. How you live with people – that is religion. Love, respect others, help the sick, help the poor – people under privilege, help them. And whether you know or not, you are looking for God! Whether you know or whether you believe or not, it’s good.

Japan has a strong reggae scene. Even huge sound systems…
Mighty Crown [comes] to England sometimes, I see them.

Why do think the reggae sound is so big in Japan?
Influence. Jamaican artistes come to Japan. Great artistes. People recognise importance of legendary singers. People recognise [their] importance. So many bands in Japan at [Fuji Rock Festival] – ska bands! Playing Jamaican ska. [They] practise what they see in Jamaica. Someone would be in Japan and is like Miniman, or like Sizzla. Y’know, Japanese people produce lookalikes, whether [they’re] watches [or] shoes – they do it in music too. They can copy.

read the rest here

Dread Inna England: how the UK took to Reggae

“Dr. William “Lez” Henry is currently a social anthropologist and the author of What the Deejay Said, a book exploring the central role Jamaican music and culture played in shaping black cultural politics in the 1970s and 80s in the UK. But before that he was a British dancehall DJ by the named of Lezlee Lyrix.

His background as a British DJ channeled through his academic career makes Henry a fascinating and informative voice when talking about the intersection of race and culture in the United Kingdom. For our program Dread Inna Inglan: How the UK Took to Reggae, Saxon Baird talked extensively with Henry about his own experience growing up in a racially-divided community of South London and the importance of sound system culture for many in the Black British communities in the late 70s and 80s.”

How did you first get involved with the sound systems?

I first got involved with sound systems probably around 1971 with Shaka Sound, which was started and ran by Jah Shaka. Number one dub-sound probably on the planet. I used to carry speaker boxes for Shaka. I was young then, about 14. I used to get into the dances for free because I would help fill the back of the van and string up the sound. Used to call us “sound boys.”

You grew up in South London, in Lewisham, which is a really interesting place because it had a very vibrant sound system culture. Jah Shaka’s record store was located there and so was the Moon Shot Youth Club. However, there was also a lot of tension. There was a National Front march in the late ‘70s and then the tragic New Cross Fire. How did all these elements come to play a role in your perception of the world and your identity?

Well, to be honest it’s a lot of the stuff I use in my writing and my work. And it was reflected in a lot of my lyricism as well. One flash point during the time I was growing up happened in the early ‘70s, when members of a National Front pub which was adjacent to the Moon Shot club–which is where Shaka Sound played a lot of their early shows – attacked us one evening when we were going home. Apparently, there was a skirmish going on between some people in Moon Shot and some people from the pub. And they ended up attacking us in street. And that is a good example of what it was like to be black then. In fact, when I was younger, we used to learn Martial Arts. We are talking 14, 15, and 16 year olds learning this because we used to get by attacked by white men regularly. And I am talking big white men, like in their 20s and 30s, attacking kids. It was a dreadful and terrible time to grow up in. Racism was rife, and it was brutal in many ways as well. For us, in the ‘70s, we were going to school and kind of running that gauntlet of hatred. Its not the only thing that was against us but it was very significant in the way we view the world or viewed the world at that time.

I mean that’s what Shaka and other sound systems used to do; they represented a safe haven for us. Where we could go out and hear music that more reflected our social, political and culture sensibilities and be amongst our own as African-Caribbean people or African people because that’s who it specifically was occupying those spaces at the time.


Read more or listen to the interview on Afropop