Picture a dreaded out Bunny Wailer sipping mushroom tea and toking on
a gigantic sno-cone backstage at Reggae Sunsplash in the mid-eighties. A
very white and uptight VH1 interviewer is trying to persuade the
monk-like figure to stand under a palm tree while they interview him to
make the shot more picturesquely "Jamaican". Bunny smiles down upon the
impatient, sweaty interviewer and gesturing with both hands at the
verdant tropical landscape of which he is, momentarily, the
high-flowing, visionary center, he tells him: "Me stand where me stand
mon". At this moment, the cracked mahogany voice of Toots Hibbert erupts
from the backstage speakers and Bunny turns his face toward the sound, a
huge smile illuminating his face. A kid hands Bunny a mango and the
reggae maestro steps towards the source of the music, dread locks
swinging, robes floating. The VH1 guy is left holding his microphone out
to empty air.
Toots and the Maytals have the power to turn your head around. They
transcend genres and speak to rock, funk, gospel and even folk and
country audiences as much as to lovers of Jamaican reggae. The Maytals'
version of "Take Me Home Country Roads" is an example of how artificial
genre boundaries can melt like ice in the sunshine of Jamaican soul.
Toots transforms John Denver's country song into an all encompassing
gospel homecoming, and when he twists "West Virginia" into "West
Jamaica" it sounds so right you have to wonder if this wasn't always
meant to be reggae.
This Best of Toots & the Maytals CD kicks off with "Funky
Kingston", a well-deep hit of roots funk-reggae. The rim-shot and horn
interplay whips up some of the hardest, on the beat, up-tempo funk
rhythms ever burned on tape. After a mighty, testifying intro, "I want
you to believe every word I say, I want you to believe every thing I
do", Toots stands back and lets the Maytals cook, tossing in a few
sparse interjections, "ah be, ah be, ah be," and a phrase here and
there, "Lick it to me", then suddenly powering into the breakdown:
"Going from east to west nah nah, north to south, ovah in Amer-ka,
people even asking me 'bout, Funky Kingston, but I ain't got none, Funky
Kingston, somebody take it away from me, Funky Kingston, you bettah go
and get yourself one, Funky Kingston".
"Funky Kingston" is a long way from smooth lover's rock and stoner
dreadlocks reggae. Just one hit and you'll know why Bunny was smiling.
Musically "Funky Kingston" is as deep in Memphis and Lagos as it is
steeped in Trench town. Toots is one of those transported African
artists who never left the wellspring of his musical origins. His voice
sometimes evokes a cracked, hoarser, more ecstatic Otis Redding if Otis
had been a tad less bluesy, a tad more tribal and able to abandon the
linear song forms of the west for the chants and off the cuff vocal
improvisations of African music.
Like Big Youth, another deep-soul 1970s reggae artist who was lost in
the towering shadow of Bob Marley, Toots doesn't even try to connect
with Western youth, he is deep in his own rhythms and his own patois and
that's the glory of his music. This is not crossover reggae-pop, it is
hard core Jamaican funk that grabs and swallows American influences
alive without ever losing an ounce of its raw authenticity (check also
Big Youth's incredibly stoned version of "Touch Me In The Morning"). In
the raw edges, around the weird corners and through the cracks of this
music, you fall into a different world of hard knocks, dope beats and
alien beauty.
"Sweet and Dandy" and "Pressure Drop" are familiar to anyone who has
heard Jimmy Cliff's The Harder They Come -- the former a light
hearted tale of marital infidelity, the latter an eerie, dread-filled,
karmic warning. From the same period comes the righteous "54-46 Was My
Number", the story of Toots's eighteen-month incarceration on a bogus
weed possession charge. "I'm not a fool to hurt myself / And the thing
they did to me / It was wrong / It was wrong". Beyond his indignation at
this personal injustice, Toots rages against the ongoing, mechanical
dehumanization of everyone caught in the system: "54-46 was my number,
right now someone have that number".
This collection closes out with two songs from Toots's 1988 comeback
album, Toots in Memphis. Produced by Jim Dickinson, the idea was
to let Toots loose on the Stax soul that he so obviously loves. Toots's
version of Otis's "(I've Got) Dreams To Remember" is a nice tribute to
both artists, but in the mighty '70s work -- "Monkey Man", "In The
Dark", "Time Tough", and "Reggae Got Soul" -- Toots produced music that
equals anything on the '60s Stax label. At his best, Toots smokes
everything in sight.