On whether it’s entirely possible for an artist to cross cultural borders, and why the crossing matters in any case.
Eric Clapton’s 1974 cover of Bob Marley and the Wailer’s “I Shot the Sheriff” (1973) has been recently inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame. I’m very much not sure how I feel about that—Clapton’s version is certainly catchy and compelling, features some wonderful guitar work (duh), and is probably the version of the song most listeners would recognize (full disclosure: when I opened the above linked YouTube videos for each, I realized that I had only heard the Marley version once or twice, if that); but it’s not the original song, and it seems very bizarre to think about a cover entering a Hall of Fame when the original has not been included. And moreover, the original’s complex contexts seem entirely lost in Clapton’s version: Marley noted that he wanted to write “I shot the police” but changed it to sheriff in order to get in less trouble with the Jamaican government; it’s hard to imagine that Clapton had much to say about those kinds of legal, governmental, and social relationships in Jamaica.
That likely gap in social or communal awareness/perspective is hardly limited to Sir Eric, however. Many of Marley’s songs were closely grounded in his Jamaican experiences, settings, and perspectives; not just his overtly political songs such as “Redemption Song” and “Rat Race” (among many many others), but even the more seemingly universal or relationship-driven songs like the famous “No Woman No Cry.” The opening lines to that song—“I remember we used to sit/In a government yard in Trenchtown/Observing the hypocrites”—clearly mean something specific within that Jamaican world, and thus introduce Marley’s sensitive appeals to his titular female addressee through the lens of their experiences within that shared setting and community. That doesn’t mean, of course, that Marley’s many American listeners and fans can’t connect to the song, or to any song of his—but I think it would be important to consider the distinctions between those kinds of connections and the ones made by Jamaican audiences.
Yet I would also push back on any sense that such cultural distinctions, while undoubtedly present, are ultimately problematic or defining. For one thing, you’d have to say the same about (for example) country music being played in Manhattan, or Brooklyn hip hop in rural Oklahoma, and so on. For another, Marley himself expressed, in songs like “One Love,” a clear desire to transcend any cultural (or other) distinctions between peoples. And for a third—and most saliently for this week’s blog series—any and all audiences who listen to Marley can thus better connect not only to a hugely talented artist, but also to the culture and world out of which he emerged. Given the number of Americans who travel to Jamaica, as well as the number of Jamaican immigrants who have become part of the U.S. over the last century (such as Colin Powell’s parents, who arrived in the early 1920s), such cross-cultural connections between the two nations are particularly meaningful and significant. So wherever and whoever you are, you can throw on a Marley t-shirt proudly, I’d say.
Final connection tomorrow,
PS. What do you think? Other connections you’d share?
Back in the mid '90s I was studying some folkloric aspects of Caribbean culture. I made a couple of trips to Jamaica and was super fortunate to have and be able to stay with Jamaican friends. Kingston was the focus -- so not really tourist country. One of my friends who was, himself, a talented percussionist, spoke reverently of Marley. He pointed out the statue of Marley that presides over that capital city's soccer stadium. He spoke lovingly of the Marley museum where one could visit the artifacts of Marley's person and life -- a shrine, really. Seems a very different sentiment than what I would imagine prevails for Clapton-- as amazing a musician as he is.Marley's stature in Jamaica, it seemed to me at the time -- and now-- was more about the voice he loaned his country. Or perhaps, he channelled his country's voice...? On another note, Jamaica has a "Heroes Day". Seven national heroes are honored and remembered on this day (including Marcus Garvey). I was in Kingston for one of the ceremonies - and, oddly, the only white person that I could see. My other friend was dancing the part of one of the heroes -- a real woman warrior -- Nanny of the Maroons. Anyway... perhaps it's a matter of time before Marley makes it eight -- who knows. But it was a Jamaican spin on the heroes of one's nation. It was eye-opening and moving for me -- all of it.ReplyDelete
Very interesting Anna, thanks! Something about the timing of Marley's rise in relation to Jamaican independence, perhaps, puts him on a different level there from just about any artists in places like the US and the UK, from what I can tell. Or maybe Jamaica is just better at celebrating its heroes, artistic and otherwise...ReplyDelete