Q: When and how did you and the mag. decide to go deeper into it and actually go down to Jamaica and do those bigger features or reports from Kingston? A: Well, from 1975 (as a reporter) I returned to Jamaica. Because I had been in Englan' since 1959, as a youth growing up. And so that was the first chance I got to go to Jamaica by having enough money. I had always wanted to return, I never even wanted to come to England in the first place. But being young I couldn't do anything about it, I had to come with my mother and other sisters. My father was already in Englan' in 1955, he sent for us to come and join him in 1959, we came in October. Q: What did he work with? A: He was workin' as a laborer and a painter. And he ended up being a painter and a decorator. He was living at a counsel flat at first and then he got a room, a three-storey house, a one room. We come to Englan' and we live in one room (chuckles). Five of us. Q: I think you included some of that experience by going over on the ship in a Pablo Moses piece in about late '77, feeling totally lost and alienated. Somewhere around France I think it was. A: Right, I have a song about that too. Yeah, yeah. And I'm glad you can recall that, beca' that's true. I mean, coming to Englan' on the way... if it took two weeks by boat...? It was an Italian ship, we land on Southampton docks on a foggy October afternoon, and then from there we took a train with our things. We took a train to Waterloo and that's where we saw our father on the platform waiting (chuckles), with lots of other people waiting for people from Jamaica. And then we took the underground I think to Elephant & Castle and then taxi or... yeah, I'm sure it was a taxi. Must've been very expensive for him to afford a taxi, but that's the only way to take us all home, to Brixton. (Chuckles) Yeah, so we come in the cold weather to Brixton. It was a struggle. Q: And then you became a soul boy in the sixties? A: No, not really. No, no, not at all. No, you going by a picture you saw in Black Music? Q: Perhaps, and what I might've heard. A: No man, I never used to like soul music much, except for James Brown and Curtis Mayfield after that. No, I mean my places for going out was just among the local rude bwoy dem. Q: (Chuckles) A: I used to follow a sound called Neville The Musical Enchanter. There was Duke Reid International too, yes, a Brixton sound. And he, Neville, was very popular and him come from South East London and at the time I was living in Peckham and Dulwich, and that's when I started getting into the local scene, on the Friday night, Saturday night scene. Sneak out an' go around town in my local area, go to house parties and start smoke herb. Q: You were just a teenager in the mid sixties, like. A: Yeah, I'm born from 1951, yunno. So when I first go to college, '67, I was sixteen. But even before that I used to sneak out and go to house parties on a Saturday night. Not for long before that. From I was about fifteen I used to sneak out and go out at night and find the local crowd an' go with them as a youngster, going with all the bigger bwoys, going into house parties and seeing girls an' all dem t'ing. Yeah, the music loud for the first time and smokin' herb for the first time. Them time it wasn't even herb, it was sher-hash them call it, smokin' with cigarettes. But I couldn't smoke the cigarettes, so I never smoke it much. But when I get to discover herb then I used to smoke that.

Q: That was clubs like the Four Aces and... A: Well yeah, the Four Aces was after. When I used to go out it was clubs like Ram Jam, Ram Jam in Brixton. It was the best known club in London for black people, and that club used to have people like the Skatalites, the Soul Vendors, Jackie Mittoo, James Brown come there, Otis Redding, Eddie Floyd. I've been to Ram Jam and I've seen all those artists, and that was a great experience. (Chuckles) When I first start going out you didn't know how to dress, you never have no money. I wasn't workin'. Apparently all those people going to those clubs well dressed and lookin' nice, but when you go out first and you wear the best clothes you got, but it's not really... You see, black people like to dress up fe go to those places. And when you go and you don't have the right shoes and the right trousers an' t'ing, we used to like a lot of flashy clothes, then no girls going dance with you, you understan'? Q: (Chuckles) Right. A: And you going to be alone fe the whole night. Until you start mek friends you get fe know the local people who go out as well, and so you go out and you go where they go nex' week. So we go to Night Angel and we go to Ska Bar, this place is where Neville The Musical Enchanter used to play with the sound. And so, me being from Dulwich we follow this sound wherever it play out. And at that time there was lots of English people, you'd be surprised to know, listening to reggae music. And that's in 1967, '68, in the same clubs that we used to go. Q: So there was some, what to call it, 'white integration' in the music even at that time? A: Yeah, there was really, but it was mostly white girls and black boys, y'know (chuckles). Yeh, we get some white guys but mostly girls, and they love the music. Them love the rude bwoy dem from Jamaica (chuckles). It's a different lifestyle, so dem like it. Those who happen to get involved. So that was a meeting of cultures. Q: What was the racial vibes like in those days? A: It was all right, because you know what? It was dominated by blacks, you see. But there was no problem between black and white. As I said, there was mostly white girls and there was some white boys, but I think those white girls who used to go there wanted to go into the black boy scene. So them never used to have no time fe white bwoy. Q: I guess there was something erotic about it too. A: Well yes, for both sides. For at school it was different, but outside of school you'd be surprised to find that kind of scene. It wasn't everywhere, these were like the outskirts of London, like Ska Bar was on the outskirts. But then when they found out where we used to go, like Ram Jam, you'd find whites there as well, and eventually there was Roaring Twenties was the big one in the West End. You heard of that? Q: Yes, yes. A: Yeah. Q: Count Shelly used to play there a lot with his sound? A: Yeah, Shelly, but (Lloyd) Coxsone mek it big. Shelly was big in North London, Stoke Newington and Tottenham. And then you had Sir Fanso from Finsbury Park, Duke Vin from West London, or Count Suckle from West London, Q Club. That club was a soul club. I never used to go there much. Q Club used to be in Paddington. That may actually have been the first black owned club in London. But all over the world artists used to come there from America and sing there as well.

Q: But in those days, in the late sixties, you were obviously out there for partying and girls and whatever, but how and when did you get deeper into it, the music scene in Jamaica and so on? A: Is only because of meeting them, y'know. The attitude to study records in the sense of who the artists were and when they made it and so on, those things never appealed to me or most Jamaicans. I mean, we used to buy a lot more records then, right, and you might like a particular artist, so at least you go and listen closely to their nex' song. I used to love Alton Ellis. But I never used to buy a lot of records then, but I used to watch a lot of records being bought in Brixton market. But the only time I used to get into the detailed side of it was when I had to for writin', for journalistic sake. So I knew that the people, the white people who read about reggae music, liked to read about details like that. The black readership don't care much about that. Q: Why? A: I don't know! (Chuckles) It's too familiar I guess. You know, they just know the people already, so they don't need to know like details of what they did before. It's not just a culture. You just wanna hear the nex' sound. Q: I see. A: But I mean, among the sound, people who praise sound and music, they're into that. You know, the sound system man dem, they get to know the people as well, and they started to go to Jamaica an' come back and get into recording and production and distribution. Yeah. But they, from early, it was part of the way of playing it, to have the bes' tune or to have the song that nobody else never have. So, in that sense they would follow up a certain artis' they know that their crowd like, trying to get a copy early, or pay a lotta money fe a white label, or pre-release. Q: But as far as music journalism goes, what does it take to be a good writer, a decent and balanced critic, and what was your perception... what you wanted to put into it? A: I never really think about it (chuckles). I think good journalism about reggae music was what I was doing. Because nobody at the time wasn't doing it, or never really have the opportunity to cover it so in-depth I suppose. So the interest wasn't there for they to be somewhere else for them to do that. The only place they could do that was in Black Music, so I had to do it, to do it properly and I just wanted to do a good job. So I did that. But also by entertaining my own people who might be reading it. 'Cause they actually never read it more than, I think, the English I know. White people used to read Black Music more than blacks. Q: How come, is that back to the same question again of being too familiar? A: Not interested in reading about it really. It's those details, yunno, it has just become more a teenage thing to do that now. But the market for magazines like Black Music is not among black people, it was among the people from the rock music audience who loved soul music and reggae music as well. You see, it's the white people support that kinda readership.

Q: What was the response among the readership in Jamaica in those days for Black Music? A: Oh yeah, well, everybody used to read Black Music there, it's funny, not in Englan'. But in Jamaica those who knew of it and those were the ones in the music business, not outside normal people never know nutten 'bout it. So if we used to reach Jamaica, but only on the strength of because it's reggae music. And there was no real distribution there too, I don't think so. There may have been after a while, a few years, couple of years, with Novelty Trading. But I don't think it would be, so it would be jus' people who come to Englan', go to America, and pick up the magazine through their record companies, the people who they were dealing business with. Q: Sometimes you could be a bit provocative in your writing. A: Yeh, I dunno if I agree with it, I was jus' puttin' my side of the story on behalf of plenty people, whatever. You see, when you go to sound in my community, you know what's going on and what people are thinkin' about this or that. And you're writin' from that perspective, selecting or correcting things that the people think otherwise. Q: I was checking one contemporary reaction to your writings (chuckles). And I'm not in any way taking away her reaction or feelings to the content which provoked her to write this letter at the time, it was published from about '76. I dunno if you recall this one... A: I'm sure where you're going. Q: Yes, it was called 'Gayle Male's Mail' and an American reader was writing in, I mean it sounds hilarious now... A: (Laughs) I can remember exactly what, I remember that! Q: She wrote: 'I thought it was strictly American poison that brought out the hipocrisy in Jamaicans, but I see from Carl Gayle's two articles in the Black Music that it's apparently a national trait that sticks no matter where you live. The robust looking white girl...' (laughs). A: (Laughs) Yeh, it's true. I loved that, it mek me really enjoy when people respond like that. That's good, I love that. I would love to meet that person. Q: And continued: '... on page 24, and big fat round faced Patsy on page 31 have one thing in common - the misfortune of having encountered you and your racist, chauvanistic attitudes. Too bad sister Patsy rewarded you for them. You raas claat!! You ought to listen closely to Bob Marley's 'War' and then think twice before you set out to educate us any further with your biased opinions. - A Robust Looking White Girl, San Francisco, California'. A: I would love to meet someone like that. (Chuckles) You can change their mind completely, in person. I used to enjoy that really, and I used to actually write things like that in order to get response. Because, you know what? After a while it was apparent that when you get these responses, other people wanna read what you write. Yeah (chuckles).

Q: Did you get a lot of letters from readers? A: Like hate-mail? No, not really. Q: I mean just response from readers in general. A: Oh, they used to write, not to me personally, but to the editor in response to things they might've read. Yeh, they didn't always put them in, it wasn't enough space every month. Every single month we had to leave out a lot of stuff. Things got left off like that. It was always people writin' in and praisin' you really. After a while that was what I used to write for just to... You know, you get letters saying how much they enjoy a particular article, because they didn't know that about Jamaica or about certain singers, and they really enjoyed reading about Jamaican artists. And it made them more interested to go and listen to Jamaican music. Because of that, it inspire you to keep doing it. But it wasn't easy. A lot of times when you go to Jamaica, it was hard to link up to keep your better link with somebody. You have to go and find them, nobody don't know where you find them, a musician. And then he make arrangement to do something, they don't come. Q: 'Soon come'. A: You know what I mean. They don't realise, but after when they've done it and when they've seen it in the magazine they're glad they did it. But it take a lot out of you just fe do one sometime, and then sometime you can get all two-three-four at the same place where you never expect it. All of dem were there at the same time (chuckles). Q: It must've been tough for you, sometimes, to see the pain in these people's eyes to be so ripped off and mistreated by some producers and promoters. Or how things turned for them, not being able to get a substantial living at the time. A: Yeah, it was, man. Q: Like some sort of therapy to have someone to speak to, who would spread the word as well. A: Yeah, I think they gained from it though. Another thing was that, yes, they've been talkin' about it, just by talkin' to me about it. They felt and knew that their words would be repeated in the press, and that was enough to satisfy them. Because they weren't getting any other voice out. But it never do them no good really. For Jamaican music has always been a rip-off music.

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Article: Peter I (Please do not reproduce without permission)