Records at Random Vol. 36 - Linton Kwesi Johnson Forces of Victory
Seeing as how Reggae music originated in the Caribbean, a decidedly balmy locale, it isn’t necessarily the most suitable soundtrack for the sort of cold, snowy days we’ve been “enjoying” here in the Northeastern United States and much of the Northern Hemisphere. But what if one were to listen to an album by a Reggae artists hailing from the dreary environs of the UK? Would such a performer’s music be more appropriate for the icy gloom of a Winter’s day? The answer; maybe.
Though born in Kingston, Jamaica, pioneering Dub Poet Linton Kwesi Johnson was raised in the London suburb of Brixton, and his patois-based poetry reflected his experiences as a person of Afro-Caribbean descent dealing with the socio-political realities of a specifically British existence. And while it could be his lyrics, which speak plainly about UK society and politics, the unique tenor of the British Dub musicians backing him, or a simple trick of the ear, the tunes on his 1979 sophomore LP Forces of Victory give off a vibe that feels more like chill London fog than hot Kingston sun.
A selection like “Fite Dem Back,” an anthemic anti-fascist tune with a chorus inciting listeners to smash in the brains of violent racists “’cause they ain’t got nuffink in ‘em,” over a skanking, piano and horn-driven Ska rhythm, is a prime example of this musical culture-clash. At face value it sounds fresh from the islands, but the incendiary lyrics go a few steps past chanting fire pon Babylon, chasing “crazy baldheads,” or even putting on an “iron shirt” and fighting Lucifer himself, which lends the song an almost Punk-Rock spirit of revolutionary anarchism.
In fact, I find myself musing that tunes like “Independent Intavenshan,” “It Noh Funny” and the previously mentioned “Fite… ” would fit just as easily into the mix between tracks by The Clash and Joy Division as they would ones by Junior Murvin and Burning Spear. Kinship with The Clash probably only makes sense if framed by their many Reggae-influenced compositions, but I make the connection due to political themes too, not just the stiff, spacey Dub instrumentation. The ties to Joy Division on the other hand are wholly musical, since the heavy bass, flat drum sounds, and experiments in cold Dub effects heard here mirror Martin Hannett’s contemporaneous work with the band and makes me think of The Haçienda as much as it does an open-air “dancehall.”
While I could draw comparisons to other Reggae artists fond of less melodic, more “poetic” vocal styles such as Lee “Scratch” Perry (not to mention a number of acts from his stable) and Mutabaruka, the brutal honesty and raw emotion of Linton Kwesi Johnson’s words remind me of US-based pioneers of spoken-word like The Last Poets and Gil Scott-Heron (a man who knew all about Winter in America) the most.
- El Keter