Headlining one of three tributes to the soul of Robert Nesta "Bob" Marley this weekend, Toronto 10-piece Irie Band has played everywhere from the annual Toronto Global Marijuana March, to Kenny Vs. Spenny. EYE WEEKLY spoke to bandleader and lead guitarist/vocalist Steven Cogdell about Toronto’s dying reggae scene, dancehall bashment and Marley’s legacy. Irie Band play the Sterling Lofts (221 Sterling, Unit 3) this Saturday (Feb. 6), staring at 11:11pm.
I’ve heard that your band can have upwards of 13 members.
It’s somewhere between nine and 11 members, most of the time. When you’re doing Bob’s music you usually need about nine people minimum.
Why is that?
Because of the nature of the music. If you listen to Bob’s music, it’s not your normal rock configuration of drums, keyboard, guitar and bass. To do “Africa Unite” for example, you need three female vocalists, two keyboardists, two guitars, bass drums and horns, just to capture the sound properly. You have to have a certain instrumentation happening.
Do you try to cover a wide breadth of material or just the stuff on Legend?
We can cover all songs in his catalogue — but certain songs are partial to us because we love them. Naturally there are certain songs the public identifies with — “Is This Love” is very popular, “Jammin'” is timeless. Other songs, like “Africa Unite,” you don’t hear all the time, but when you hear them you’ll know them right away.
Why do you think Bob Marley’s music is so irresistible?
Because it’s all-inclusive music, one that does not point fingers at race, sex or religion. Basically, it’s timeless and eternal. I’ve played this music clear across Canada, all over the United States and in the most hick towns. I was in this one place called the Athabasca Hotel in Jasper, Alberta, and the place was full of cowboys. Onstage, we were playing our original stuff and the whole crowd just stared at us, but the moment we started playing “Jammin',” every single person was up there dancing. Now that says something. Bob has saved my ass hundreds of times. The words are honest, the music is heartfelt and all you have to do is listen to it and you can feel the one-ness of it. It’s not like listening to Stone Temple Pilots.
To me, reggae has been the best type of music to play on the radio for years, but it never has been popular. I’ve been a reggae musician for years - but record labels have always been wary of signing a record deals. But yet, as everyone else can see, the shelf life of reggae far exceed rock and far exceeds hip-hop. I guarantee you 50 years from now you’ll be able to walk into a record store and buy a Bob CD. His music holds the same kind of timelessness as Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk.
Do you consider yourself a Rastafarian?
At one point in my life I did consider myself a Rastafarian, but it was hard to reconcile the nature of it based around Haile Selassie. Rastafarianism is based on the fact that he is God incarnate. But to me, every woman and child and animal has the essence of God already. I don’t like separate-ness. I don’t like saying, “she is more God-ly than him.” What I learned from reggae music is that God lives in all people, god permeates all beings. Through unity, you see God in every action that you take, that every circumstance you come upon in your life is an orchestration and demonstration of that. That’s why I love reggae music, especially Bob.
Do you think the definition of reggae as a genre has shifted?
Right now there’s a lot of what I call “bashment” — a kind of rock attitude to the dancehall kind of Caribbean music. It’s roots are in mento and the folkloric music of Jamaica, and what I call “polko.” It’s not reggae, you know in reggae you get a check-it-check-it-check-it beat, but in dancehall you get more of a booom-boom. In the '80s, people like Shabba Ranks, Lieutenant Stitchy and Tiger got signed to the record companies and received huge amounts of money. And it was all about girls shaking ass and guys building rifles.
It’s the music of Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, Dennis Brown and Bunny Wailer, that represent what reggae is supposed to sound like. And reggae always has a positive message. The thing is, Toronto was like a Little Jamaica from the late '70s all through the '80s into the early '90s. You could come to Toronto and basically hear reggae music like you were in Jamaica. In those days, reggae was in all clubs, because of the music Bob did, Chris Blackwell marketed Bob Marley and the Wailers like a rock group. If we went to the Hard Rock Café, they’d be like “what do you want to play?” It didn’t matter what club, they knew that reggae was popular.
Has that changed today?
Sean Paul is not reggae. I listen to Spex’s show (Riddim Track) on Flow (93.5FM). I was part of the lobbying group who got Flow that frequency and part of their mandate was that they were going to support reggae music. Only because it’s Black History Month, you’re gonna hear some Bob and some authentic reggae. Otherwise you’re gonna hear bashment, you’re gonna hear dancehall. That’s all Spex sees. To me, he doesn’t support reggae music. Hip-hop and dancehall are basically put in the same room.
I heard hip-hop when it first came out. You don’t have artists like Pete Rock anymore, talking about reality and talking about knowledge of self. To me, in the beginning, we used to say “word” because the word is the power. You’d never catch Bob talking about how cool you are with your gold and your different logos, and dancehall is basically the same stuff. I love Mos Def. He stuck to his heart and he stuck to the word and mad knowledge of self.
Where is authentic reggae being played in Toronto today?
It only lives in records now. As far as I can see, people wanna hear superheavyREGGAE [now mightyheavyREGGAE] play Dennis Brown. I feel the city itself feels uncomfortable when a lot of people of colour converge. Like when Caribana used to go down the middle of University. That was wonderful, but the people who run this city didn’t like it. That’s why it’s out on Lakeshore, in case something goes down because you know “black people carry guns and are gangsters” and do bad shit.
Years ago, Horace Andy played, he was a classic reggae dude, and let one note out of his mouth and guns started firing. Things like this ruin the reputation that Bob so diligently worked to establish unity of all people. Notice that they don’t hold any big reggae concerts in the core of Toronto; they’re all uptown because they think the people who listen to reggae are dangerous. They think if Jamaicans or black people gather together, there are going to be problems. But fear doesn’t save you; fear doesn’t prevent fear from happening. That is the way it goes, like meets like.
With that said, I’m happy that there are so many Bob tributes going on this weekend. Some are even tied to the Haitian relief. It just goes to show the energy that is around reggae and around Bob. It’s a very powerful music to hear executed and demonstrated. It brings people together; it doesn’t separate minds and hearts.