Summer Reading
I'm fond of memoirs these days. Maybe it's because I'm near the end of my own life and I want to know about the lives of others -- those who've accomplished something and have some wisdom (and good stories) to impart. Not another story of addiction or abuse by a 26-year-old (no longer interested). But something deeper and more eventful.
Of course, I wrote a memoir that I highly recommend (especially if you're coming back from a medical trauma) -- "Between Heaven and Hell" (shameless plug, but quite readable, even for humid summer nights).
In recent months, I also thoroughly enjoyed "Song in a Weary Throat: Memoir of an American Pilgrimage," Pauli Murray's account of her Zelig-like trek through the joys and tribulations of the African American experience in the 20th century U.S.; Oliver Stone's "Chasing the Light," a fascinating personal journey through the shark-infested waters of Hollywood up to the time he won an Academy Award for "Platoon" (I wonder why this book was disappeared?); and Richard Thompson's memoir of life with Fairport Convention and beyond -- he can tell a story as well as he can play guitar.
I admit that I'm partial to memoirs by men and women who were at the center of the music world in the 1960s to '80s -- when musical giants walked the earth. So I rushed to get a copy of Chris Blackwell's new memoir, "The Islander." I'm only on page 200 of his 320-page story, but I'm deeply hooked. Blackwell was raised in Jamaica and England. His mother was romantically involved with Ian Fleming, who based a couple of his sexy Bond women on her, including Pussy Galore. Blackwell's deep love of Caribbean roots music, American soul music, and the emerging British invasion sound made his independent London label --- Island Records -- the hot center of the music world for two decades.
As Blackwell makes clear, the secret of his success was giving the musicians on his roster the freedom and time and state-of-the-art recording studios to find their voices. They responded by giving Island Records one hit after the next -- but even more important, brilliant careers that evolved at their own speed over time. (I thought about my own Salon, and how we invented dotcom journalism, allowing the inmates to run the asylum.)
Here are some of the musical artists whom Blackwell and his company signed, recorded and broke big: Steve Winwood (with the Spencer Davis Group AND Traffic), Fairport Convention and later Richard and Linda Thompson, Nick Drake, Cat Stevens, Procul Harum, Mott the Hoople, Roxy Music, Tom Waits, Grace Jones, U2... the list goes on and on.
But no artist was more important to Blackwell than Bob Marley. It was Blackwell who recruited Marley and the Wailers after years of relative obscurity in Jamaica and had the vision to turn them into a global act. Here is Blackwell's moving account of Marley's recording of "Redemption Song," his final testament as he succumbed to cancer:
"Bob and I didn't talk much in the studio -- or I should say, we mostly talked about the music, acknowledging our personal lives and interests very rarely. There was an open flow of ideas between us; Bob sometimes stood his ground but was warmly receptive to suggestions that he saw had potential, and he never once protested that he was being told what to do by the guy running the record company.
"A great example of the way we worked together was 'Redemption Song' from 'Uprising,' the final album released in his lifetime. That's one of Bob's songs that I can say I really produced, rather than just being responsible for the mix.
"He was terribly ill with cancer at the time of its recording and not sleeping much, cognizant that his time was coming to an end. His writing and thinking were taking on an intensely contemplative tone.
"He had been working on 'Redemption Song' for months, trying it out in various styles, touching on all the varieties of Jamaican music he had been part of, from upbeat ska to hypnotic reggae. He'd taken some of the song's lyrics from a speech delivered in 1934 by Marcus Garvey, one of the major influences on the Rastafari movement: 'We are going to emancipate ourselves from mental slavery because whilst others might free the body, none but ourselves can free the mind.'
"Bob really wanted to get the song right. When he played the various versions for me, I liked them but didn't really love them. Something was missing. Then it hit me. Because the lyrics were so obviously important and deep, the song would work best presented as simply as possible, with just Bob and an acoustic guitar. Bob took some persuading to try it this way, but he listened patiently to my reasoning and then agreed to record an acoustic take.
"Eyes shut, lost in the words, he sang a spare version to me as an audience of one. It sounded hymnal and hypnotic. The understatement of his performance made the song seem so much more dramatic. I thought it would be amazing if everyone heard 'Redemption Song' the same way, as if it were sung directly to them, just you and Bob in the room.
"In its simplicity, the song transcended genre, so that it wasn't reggae, folk, pop or rock. It was Bob Marley."
