Peter Tosh: Rude Boy Anthems
It seems fitting that the late reggae superstar Peter Tosh (he was murdered in 1987) now has two song compilations entitled The Toughest. His bragging about his "tough" musical talents (spelled "tuff" in Jamaica and implying all the sassy and outrageous skills the word "bad" does in the African-American world) was a central preoccupation of his career. But if I had to choose between the EMI/Parlophone disc highlighting the hits of his final years (it was released in 1989) and this new collection on Heartbeat of his earlier recordings, I would spring for the Heartbeat. Even a casual listen quickly reveals why.
The Heartbeat collection offers as complete a picture as you could hope for of the supremely talented songwriter/vocalist in the early '60s, his most innovative period. Here are the singles he recorded for producers "Coxsone" Dodd and Lee Perry during the time he was working with Bob Marley and Bunny Wailer in forming the Wailers. The most musically sophisticated member of the trio (his rhythm guitar was featured on numerous classic early reggae albums by a broad spectrum of artists), Tosh offered punchy, memorable songwriting and a deep baritone voice.
Unlike the abstract prophetic rhetoric lacing Marley's compositions, or Bunny Wailer's, Tosh's lyrics focused on everyday people living in the ghetto, and they brought to this subject a sarcasm lightened by wit and a folksy wisdom. Songs like "Maga Dog" and "Secondhand" are simple indictments of hypocrites, the first referring to ungrateful receivers of Tosh's charity, the latter dissing women feigning virginity. "You're just a brand new secondhand," he sings, with a sardonic rancor and an arrogant air in his voice that bring to mind Dylan's putdowns of fickle lovers recorded during the same era.
This thinly veiled rage gives energy to Tosh's vocals. The crack rhythm players, who included several members of the Skatalites, push him also. But what really makes these early songs such a thrill is Tosh's ability to lighten his diatribes with humor. The silly "Hoot Nanny Hoot" is a hilarious yet good-natured satire of the US "hootenanny craze." "Shame and Scandal" is an uproarious bit of sly songwriting, in ragged ska rhythms, about incest. Here's a tale of a boy warned by his daddy against marrying his fiancée since she's really the boy's sister (the situation worsens when the boy's mother informs him that his daddy isn't really his daddy!). Even the tedious macho posturing of "The Toughest" -- little more than a cataloguing of bravado acts -- Tosh delivers with a hint of irony.
The EMI disc is another story. One listen to these later versions of "Maga Dog" and "Downpresser" is sufficient to explain the tragedy of Tosh's career. Decades after his first hits, he simply harangues. The gentle humor and irony have receded. Every vocal is an unremitting sneer.
What's more, comparison with the Heartbeat recordings reminds us of yet another precious quality Tosh lost as his career progressed: the gospel strain. "Downpresser" (which sounds like the Book of Isaiah set to a reggae soundtrack) and "Amen" reveal just how deeply he was influenced by the hymns of the Jamaican church he attended in childhood. Whereas Marley and Bunny Wailer brought to the trio their enthusiasm for American R&B, Tosh's contribution was rooted in gospel tunes. The Wailers were the toughest group around in reggae's early days because of that harmonious synthesis of styles, and arguments continue in downtown Kingston as to whether a better reggae act has yet surfaced. Only few might claim solo Tosh as the greatest reggae act of all time, but he packed a rude punch that makes us miss his tuneful swagger still.
-- Norman Weinstein
|
|
