Absentee Blogger

So it seems that the real world and the fantasy world of high-stakes blogging sometimes collide and the real world wins. My schedule interrupted my quest to bring the Nat Geo music rockumentary to the masses and unfortunately I had to yield the call of the paycheque. Alas, all I had to share was Day 1. I had to skidaddle all over the island on other non-blog-friendly assignments and thus was only able to catch up with the Islands magazine crew, writer Stever Knopper and photographer Jon Whittle, much later (on their last day in town actually) and give them the best Samantha (my '97 dark blue Honda Civic) and I had to offer.

First stop, Trenchtown.

Bob's original inspiration and the humble beginnings of A LOT of reggae music's big names. People often think it's only Bob who started there, but oh, are there more: guitar genius Ernie Ranglin, Alton Ellis, Rita Marley, Theo Beckford, Leroy Sibbles, Bunny Wailer....there were even some political connections too. Alexander Bustamante, Jamaica's first prime minister, was also from Trenchtown.

We got a tour and half and heard about the inspiration for some of Bob's songs, saw the one room with the "single bed" of "I Wanna Love You" fame. There was even the original "Catch a Fire" bus, from which he sold the records when they came out.



Aforementioned bus.

Saw some very priceless memorabilia, i.e. one of Bob's first guitars.




All in all highly educational, especially when I heard from some friends that I should have called first, cause you never know what the factions could be waging in ol' Trenchie. Oh well, Samantha still had her wheels on when we got back, so all's well that ends well.



The view on the way out of the Trenchtown Culture Yard (and a wee bit of Samantha).


Next up, Rockers Records.



But not before I had a true first time experience in all my years living and breathing in Jamaica. We rolled up to a stop light in the Half-Way Tree area and were descended upon by the ever-present, ever-discriminating stoplight denizen: the window washers (aka squeegie guys). Never in my life have I had two window washers unleash their skill upon every window of my car. But, you see, these young steeds are no fools. A girl and two, shall we say, "evident tourists", reeks of cha-ching, especially when the "evident tourist" in front is carrying a camera the size of a two-year-old on his lap. They peered in the windows and pounded their fists on the windshield, then used the squeegie to slap the windshield. And I am now supposed to wind down the window and reach my hand out to you? Ah, poor sap, all I want to do is run over your foot! Nevertheless, as soon as the ordeal began, it was over and we were off again. Vagrants are everywhere and an issue we all have to deal with; I'm just not down with the attitude.

Squeegie guys far behind us, we arrive at Rockers Records, a staple of the downtown music scene and a pioneer in the Jamaican 45 business; still standing and still putting out the records.



45s line the walls at Rockers

Local sales are down (darned electronic age), but the Europeans and Japanese are keeping things going, so Rockers prevails. We met Michey, who, whadda ya know, had a demo to share. I guess the cliche of the aspiring musician working in the music shop isn't so cliche afterall.



Rockers staple, Michey

After Rockers, we ventured to a little studio off Old Hope Rd and caught a very special private concert. Ernie Ranglin and Sly of Sly and Robbie stirring up some trouble, giving a demo of Ska and Rocksteady, and following it up with a classic Ernie Ranglin jam session. It was by far one of the last things I ever expected to experience and certainly not on that day, but I guess when you roll with the right crowd, anything is possible. I wish I could share the video, but I've been sworn to keep it in the vault. I guess you just had to have been there. Yes, I'm lucky. Don't hate.



A rare moment: Ernie and Sly in the studio. And that would be Sly all the way in the back hidden by the drums.



Before the Jam session, Islands writer Steve Knopper gets a word in with Ernie.

Now if only I could say the day ends drama free. On the way back up to Strawberry Hill, I had the unfortunate incident of blowing my tyre to smithereens. It was going to happen sooner than later. There were wires sticking out, that's how worn out the thing was. Fortunately, I had not one, but two potential tyre changers on my hands. I didn't want Steve to get so dirty, but he took one for the team. Jon and I weren't completely inactive. We looked on very encouragingly, held bolts and told Steve how strong he was. Hard work, but somebody had to do it.



Steve, working for his ride.

Enlightening, at times anxiety-inducing, colourful and a bit labour-intensive; I think that's a fair assessment of what this tour of Kingston was. Makes for much better stories than pleasant, incident-free and interesting, don't you think?