Maybe I’ll find it in more of his music – there are only 10 songs here after all. Quicker tempos, more impressionistic lyrics. I’ve warmed to a lot of the mid-tempo reggae songs that have dominated this playlist, but some just don’t do it for me. So, do I believe the hype?ĭid I end these two weeks as an enthused Bob Marley fan? Well yes and no. Yes, I’m only discovering this in 2021 – but better late than never, right? I’m still not enthused by ‘Small Axe’ or ‘Jah Live’ though, but they’re now exceptions rather than the rule. It even turns lines that don’t sound like song lyrics, like “emancipate yourself from mental slavery”, into chill-inducing perfection. It’s a stop-you-in-your-tracks call for freedom. And I haven’t mentioned the acoustic ‘Redemption Song’ which never fails to feel like a poignant way to finish this playlist. ‘No More Trouble’ sounds like a bit like an Isaac Hayes soul tune, which I enjoy. I think the increased tempo helps, and that bassline is absolutely bulletproof. Aside from ‘Turn Your Lights Down Low’ and ‘Concrete Jungle’, I’m now very taken with ‘Could You Be Loved’, which can only be described as a bonafide reggae disco banger. So by now I’m asking myself, does all of this music work simultaneously as music and message? And several songs absolutely do. So though I don’t love this style of lyricism, the songs still hit home – like the ‘peace is impossible without equality’ message of ‘War’, or the integrity maxim of ‘Who The Cap Fit’. And this allows the message to be amplified. This isn’t chorus-verse-chorus stuff – it’s about entering a world and being surrounded by its atmosphere. I feel less like an outsider looking into something I don’t understand and instead I feel immersed in the music. I’m instantly bopping my head when ‘War’ kicks in.
Later listensīy the fourth play of this playlist, it’s occurred to me that listening doesn’t feel like a chore anymore. It may be a desperate song, but it gives me hope for my Bob Marley journey. With the distinctive staccato chords meeting the more familiar rock sound, it feels like a nice entry point into Marley’s music.
I’m immediately grabbed by its descending guitar line which sounds like we’re being dragged down into the soulless urban landscape of its title. ‘Concrete Jungle’ is less familiar and feels like a rock song. And maybe it stands out because it sounds unlike a lot of the songs on this playlist – more like a reggae-tinged R&B or quiet storm song with guitars at the forefront. ‘Turn Your Lights Down Low’ rings a bell of recognition – possibly because I remember the Lauryn Hill rework of it. These were Fran’s selections:īut that doesn’t mean that’s the case for all of these songs, and there are a couple of early standouts. The playlist is short, so already I’m onside. The reggae sound – drum and bass, slow tempos – it doesn’t grab me.īut as I’ve said: I haven’t tried to like it. The other, less long-winded reason was: I just didn’t fancy the music. But was I going to fulfil their expectations and listen to Bob Marley? No chance, son. Their ignorance hurt, but logic wasn’t going to work on the playground. So I recall geographically-confused children highlighting my otherness with mock patois accents they’d found on The Lenny Henry Show. So what? Well, despite what baffling government reports may say, if you’re not white in Britain, you tend to get categorised by society as belonging to one big ‘other’ pot. My heritage is Ghanaian, and though Afrocentric ideas were at the centre of Bob Marley’s art, his music was also very much rooted in Jamaica. It’s not that I ‘don’t believe the hype’ per se, rather that I’ve just never engaged with it. Reggae pioneer, Pan-African idealist, Rastafari icon. Welcome to our most sacrilegious feature yet.