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On Second Thought Ras Michael & The Sons Of Negus - Rastafari"Ras Michael is a roots master and a Nyabinghi specialist. He tells you like it is." - Bob Marley.My dad had spent the late ‘70s in Africa, and then London, soaking up the punk and roots and reggae scenes. He went to the 100 Club, saw Bob Marley, bought records from the studios and shops of Vulcan, Joe Gibbs, Grounation, Studio One, Trojan, and brought them all home back to Australia with him. I grew up listening to all these mysterious records, the sounds contained in their thick bubbly wax stoking the fires of my latent music snobbery. At a time when everyone else was fervently getting into Oasis and Live, I felt ubercool listening to such wack shit as U-Roy and Big Youth. When Shaggy’s “Oh Carolina” was on the hit parade, I was listening to the original by The Folkes Brothers. I’d show my friends the ‘rude’ cover of Linval Thompson’s Love Is The Question and cackle as they squealed about how gross it was. When the boys in class bragged about how hardcore they felt with their Metallica back catalogue, I was silently smug in the knowledge that I knew all the words to Linton Kwesi Johnson’s “Fite Dem Back”, with its chorus “We gonna smash their brains in/Because they ain’t got nothing in dem”. But of all Dad’s reggae records, the first one I really appreciated, really listened to, was Ras Michael & The Sons Of Negus’ Rastafari.Ras Michael was born Michael George Henry in Kingston, Jamaica in 1943. Growing up in a Rastafarian community in St Mary, he was taught drumming from a very young age. It wasn’t long before he could out-play the very teachers who had instructed him. He found himself increasingly interested in the music of Nyabinghi. Nyabinghi music, a combination of chanting and the playing of at least three hand drums, was played at Rastafarian Grounations – a celebration and affirmation of life through the earth – which occur each year at around the 21st of April and last for several days. The young Ras was fascinated and inspired by this music, and formed his own group of drummers, The Sons of Negus, and founded his own record label, Zion Disc. Through this label, he and The Sons Of Negus released a collection of singles during the mid ‘60s focusing on the Nyabinghi sound with the addition of guitars and bass. When you consider the other dancehall and reggae music being produced at that time – “(Rudy) A Message To You”, “Train To Skaville” – Ras Michael & Sons Of Negus’ singles like “Lion Of Judah” are remarkably subtle and inventive. Michael would work at Coxone Dodd’s legendary Studio One as a session musician, payment being his own slice of studio time. His first album was Dadawah Peace And Love, recorded in the early ‘70s with an augmented studio band. It sowed the seeds of the eclectic mix of Nyabinghi, gospel, funk and reggae that would later characterize Rastafari. Michael and his band then took a step back with the subdued Nyabinghi, which was in a similar style to their more earnest first singles. However, with a move to Vulcan Records offshoot Grounation in 1975, and under the overseeing of renowned producer Tommy Cowan, and with carefully selected guest players, Ras Michael created his masterpiece, Rastafari, the record that would shoot him into the reggae stratosphere – a success he’d never repeat.Side One of Rastafari opens with the darkly emotional funk of “None A Jah Jah Children No Cry”. Unlike than the optimistically evangelical, hymn-like tones of a lot of religious reggae songs, “None A…” has an ominous, watery, minor key slink, as though Ras is the boat-master and we are just the pilgrims floating down the river into the unknown. The ethereal backing-vocals of Phillipa Street, Dawn Forrester and Joy Lindsay add emotional weight to the song. “Birds In The Treetops” is, by comparison, a much more standard ‘Rasta praise’ sound, with its dinky keyboards and humming refrain. It was this sort of mushy reggae that was to eventually be Ras’ downfall from the late ‘80s onwards. “Truth & Right” is much more affecting, returning to the humid sound laid down by “None A Jah Jah Children No Cry”. Peter Tosh’s oppressively funky clavinet helps drive the rhythm, while Robbie Shakespeare’s rolling bass takes centre stage. Throughout all this, Ras’ Nyabinghi sound rings clear in the distance. An unlikely highlight of Side One is “In Zion”, a slinkily dubby version of Dennis Brown’s “On Broadway”. The female backing vocalists’ heavenly chorus and the skanking rhythm laid down by Shakespeare’s bass and Robert Lyn’s organ might have slowed down the original song to a molasses crawl, but combined with Chinna Smith and Peter Tosh’s dueling, clanging guitars and Ras’ outro spoken word sermon makes this one of the most consistently original and exciting covers laid on wax.It’s no accident that when quizzed for my ‘best ever side one, track ones’ I often name “Mr. Brown” as my favourite. The leading track from Side Two eventually, on the ’91 CD re-release of Rastafari, became the first track of the album, and it’s not hard to see why. A deeply funky reggae groove lays the foundations for the most political track on Rastafari:Mr. Brown? I ain’t Mr. Brown. Hey, Mr. Brown! I hate Mr. Brown! I’ll tell you something: I am an Ethiopian… …I ain’t Mr. Baker I ain’t no faker I am an Ethiopian With uncharacteristic spark, Ras fairly spits out these lyrics, The Sons Of Negus and his assembled band working together behind him at the height of their powers. The power and pride of “Mr. Brown” is particularly affecting in these days of co-opting reggae sounds and diwali riddim into popular music purely for stylistic (and, of course, commercial) gain without appreciation of their cultural significance. Ras was fighting the homogenization back in ’75 yo! “Sufferation”, taking its tune from a traditional Catholic hymn, is equally powerful in its made up words of pain and cruelty – “sufferation”, “degregation”, “downpression” – suggesting a history of subjugation so dire that there are no existing words to describe it. However, within this sadness is the optimism of the Rastafarians, as Ras sings “we are going home, send Jah Jah love to meet us, we are going home”. The gentle rhythm of “It Is No Secret”, again a transmutation of a Catholic hymn, perfectly complements its chant to the love of Jah. In its assurance that Jah is always there for you, no matter what, it is almost the reggae brother to Ry Cooder’s “Jesus On The Mainline”. “Give Love” ends the album on a note typical of the reggae sounds of the day, with Peter Tosh’s growling clavinet and chorus of brass instruments creating a bubbling funk.Rastafari is a faultless album in its genre. It lacks the abrasive power of Linton Kwesi Johnson’s Forces Of Vicktry, though without any loss of political might. It has little of the softheaded musicality of Marley’s Kaya or Linval Thompson, though it still grooves like a motherfucker. It’s not surprising that Ras Michael struggled to repeat the success – commercially, musically, critically – of Rastafari, because it’s pretty hard to improve on perfection.By: Clem Bastow 2003-12-05Check out Ras Michael's Official website for upcoming concert dates, new music, reasons, etc. at: http://www.rasmichael.com