Had he lived, Bob Marley would now be 80 years old, an elder statesman of rock and world music. He succumbed to cancer in 1981, aged just 36.
By Miles Salter
Like John Lennon, Freddie Mercury, Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse, Marley’s star has only risen in the years since his death, his face in posters on a hundred thousand student walls, his music universally recognised. Marley’s music and image are so vivid that he is one of a small number of acts that have become genuinely world stars, known in most countries, outstripping the visibility of most bands and singers. I wouldn’t fancy Coldplay’s chances of being recognised around the world in the same way.
Marley was ‘discovered’ by Island Records supremo Chris Blackwell, who brought him to London in the early ’70s. Bob and his band, The Wailers, appeared on the Old Grey Whistle Test in clips that are still celebrated today. Their 1973 appearance, performing Stir It Up and other songs caused suitable stirs and convulsions in the music world. Reggae was about to become a huge force in Western music. Marley’s albums, Catch A Fire, Rastaman Vibration and the classic Exodus sold in huge numbers, ensuring Island’s survival for years to come.
Marley’s songs are usually remembered as cheerful affairs, One Love, Three Little Birds and Could You Be Loved are all snatches of musical sunshine. You can almost hear the Jamaican surf. What’s remembered less vividly are the political aspects of his canon. War, in particular, is a grim anthem, a protest against a divided and violent world, a reminder that bad times are at the door. ‘Until the philosophy which holds one race superior and another inferior is permanently discredited and abandoned, everywhere is war.’ It was partly inspired by Hailie Selassie, revered by Rastafarians. The words sound clumsy, but in Marley’s hands they become a defiant and accusatory statement about prejudice and injustice. It was covered by Sinead O’Connor, who infused it with an emotional tone and made it a riveting moment of anger.
Then there’s Buffalo Soldier, which protests against slavery and the building of America, noting that slaves were ‘stolen from Africa.’ Marley’s achievement was fusing music and politics in a way that meant the songs were no less palatable. By the time of his death in 1981, he was playing to huge crowds in USA and Europe. But the political anthems made him unpopular in some quarters. In December 1976, gunmen fired multiple shots at Bob’s house, injuring Marley, his wife Rita and manager Don Taylor. Amazingly, there were no fatalities. One of Marley’s biographers thinks the CIA was behind the attack. (The novel A Brief History Of Seven Killings by Marlon James includes a fictional account of the attack.) Just days after the attack, he appeared at the One Love concert at the National Stadium in Kingston, Jamaica. During the concert, he brought two warring politicians, Michael Manley and Edward Seaga, on stage, and encouraged them to hold hands a gesture towards peace. It was a moment of remarkable symbolism and testament to music’s power to create community.
The singer’s private life was complicated. Marley was married, but had numerous children with numerous partners. Let’s just say he was pretty busy. There have been legal disputes, including one with Marley’s half-brother, Richard Booker, over use of Marley’s image. Had he lived, he would be a leader, despite the indiscretions. People would have looked to Marley for guidance, a voice of humane wisdom. He died in 1981, aged only 36. If you’ve never listened to Redemption Song, go and investigate. There’s something so pure about it. Marley’s singular vision lives on.
Acoustic Sounds have reissued Marley’s classic albums on vinyl which you can pre-order here.
Miles Salter is a writer and musician based in York. His band is Miles and The Chain Gang.
