Showing posts with label #the pop series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #the pop series. Show all posts

10.5.21

Taste Like Honey: Reminiscences from the Αlbum Εra

 Max Romeo & The Upsetters War Ina Babylon


 

There was a time when reggae music didn’t signify to me a lot more than a lousy beach bar filled with hippy, or even mainstream, holidayers somewhere in a Greek island of the Aegean. As for Bob Marley, he was ascribed as passé and out-of-date to our collective urban consciousness. 

Still, before its cultural appropriation by Western audiences, reggae music was a music genre rooted in rebellion and activism. Bob Marley himself was once “happy to be known as ‘the musical revolutionist’ fighting war with his music.”

In any case, even when reggae music wasn’t raising social awareness, it was dissimilar to chill vibes and cocktail drinking. Reggae was worship music “praising Jah and celebrating a spiritual lifestyle;” certainly not ideally matched to a consumerist culture where music is often suitable to supermarkets.  

Max Romeo’s “War Ina Babylon” functioned as a catalyst to my reggae/dub awakening. It was through his record that I managed to take “One Step Forward” and put reggae into historical and cultural perspective.

War Ina Babylon isn’t an album for the light hearted. It takes a strong stomach. You have to… “put on an iron shirt, and chase the devil out of earth,” whatever that devil might be. As it was the case for some of us back then, not a fire-breathing dragon; complacency.

 

 

 

 

 

2.5.21

Taste Like Honey: Reminiscences from the Αlbum Εra

 

The Clash – London Calling


 

The Clash released “London Calling,” their third studio album, in 1979. A superb collection of nineteen first-rate songs, this is an album you ‘re inclined to listen from beginning to the end. And that’s a rarity. Ever since then, London Calling became a classic, indispensable part of the sentimental education of maddened, animated and spirited young men and women around the globe.

Joe Strummer more than any other punk rocker, became the archetypical hero for rebellious, moderately sophisticated, idealistic university graduates from countries of the First World, someone to identify with: politically strong-minded, not fucked up by substance abuse, neither pretty nor ugly, politically single-minded.

Contrary to Joey Ramone, my own personal favorite punk, Joe was surely a guy that you could bring over for dinner with parents. As for Johnny Rotten, that’s right, nasty. Not to forget Iggy; good for drinks.

"If I can't dance to “The Guns of Brixton,’ it's not the party at the city center I want to crash," used to be my mantra. For as long as the summer of innocence lasted at least. A few years, more or less. Enough for a lifetime, in case you wonder. Categorically not the American type of innocence which resembles “infantilism and prefers to see the past as utopia rather than as history and is reflected in popular culture, especially cinema and music” as James Baldwin once put it. “White Americans do not believe in death because they have rejected tragedy” he concluded.

 

Spanish bombs, yo te quiero infinito
Yo te quiero, oh mi corazón
Spanish bombs, yo te quiero infinito
Yo te quiero, oh mi corazón