Q: You can look upon comparisons in whatever way you want, but it often describes where from or how someone is coming through, artistically, I mean some refer to you as the 'Bob Dylan of reggae'. How do you react when you hear that? I think, when speaking to people like Willie Williams for example not too long ago - the man who did 'Armagideon Time for Coxson, we spoke about foreign influences and in reggae all you hear is the obvious name-dropping: Mayfield, the Impressions, the music from Stax, Atlantic, Motown, James Brown of course. But Willie mentioned Dylan being of significant importance, which I seldom see reggae artists do for some reason, but I still believe Dylan made a strong impact on the island just like anywhere else. How important was he in your opinion, looking back? Soul music always gets the credit, and quite rightly so, but I think people like Dylan deserves more credit for the lyrical awakening in Jamaican music also. A: You are right about that, because I remember now when you are talking about that, I remember I used to sing Bob Dylan songs without knowing that was Bob Dylan, or who Bob Dylan was. I don't think I knew that at all. But one of the songs I used to sing was 'Blowing In The Wind'. One of the very first major concerts that I performed on, I sung that song. Did my knees tremble... oh bwoy (laughs)! But when I got to art school here I had to go to a lot of parties, and everybody was into Bob Dylan, bring Bob Dylan music. So I started gravitating to Bob in a way, I liked his music. You know, I didn't mind, but when that question was asked back then I perhaps misunderstood the question, in my reaction (to it). But the comparison is OK because it might be my contribution of different periods and of different artists.

Bob Dylan.

Q: Another thing I learned from that mid seventies period is that Hussey pointed out that the session people you hired felt that what you demanded from them was 'too advanced', in his impression they couldn't deal with it. How did you react to that, when these were supposed to be the top-notch in the session field, the 'cream of the business crop' so to speak? A: Too complicated... Disappointed! Yeah, this happened first... I noticed this with the Wailers. Yeah, that happened first with them, something wasn't turning out right, just didn't have the musical... (they) just didn't take it where I wanted it to go. Yeah, I can remember stuff like that was happening, they were just stuck with the usual... Q: Not up to expectations, huh? A: No, no. Most of my conflicts, I already had been through that here in America, playing with the musicians that I used to play live with. My gosh, I listened through the rehearsal tape and I couldn't believe what I was hearing, that it was these guys (laughs)! My God! I thought it was horrible, man (laughs)! Wow! Now I understand why some of them didn't like me (chuckles)! I was really pressuring these guys to the limit, y'know. But I tend to do that when I'm having somebody playing some solo, someone is playing a solo in the song, and I want to have the best solo the guy could be playing in the place, and I'd keep working and working 'C'mon, that's not good enough!' 'Go again, again, again!', y'know. So, I remember I had some problem also with a horn section, Dean Fraser and some of the guys, when I was re-recording 'Discrimination'. You know, I'm not saying that these guys aren't talented, in their way they are very talented, but in my music experience, where I was coming from, they just couldn't reach where I wanted to go. You know, I wasn't that skillful on all the instruments, I knew a few of them but some of them I had to get others to play. But 'Jah Rastaman' was a big problem also, with Stephen Stewart who was the keyboard player, trying to get him to play that line, they way how it go. Oh, that was... and all of a sudden he started playing it after we went through a lot of frustration, and I can't see why, 'cos he knew the line but just didn't want to play it. But then a lot of musicians get offended once you try to tell them what to play, they just try to play what they wanna play! And if you say 'Keep it this way', then uh-oh! They either get embarrassed or offended, especially if there's a beautiful woman inside the studio... Q: (Laughs) A: It has the biggest reaction! Even at rehearsal it's like you have to be very careful the way you trod the line, once you're in the presence of a female, 'cos embarrassment come very easily, whatever you say or think (laughs)! Put another meaning to it, y'know. So I usually prefer to have rehearsal with closed doors, y'know, or a session that is locked. The freedom that you have when you are all together is totally different from when you have a female inside.

Karbi to the left, and from left to right: Gitsy Willis (guitar), Dean Fraser, Chico Chin, David Madden and Nambo Robinson.

Q: So these problems with instrumentation happened in the early eighties with the Wailers, but did you find the same thing when hiring people like Horsemouth and Peter Tosh for the first recording in '75, for Total Sounds? A: No. I didn't come across that because those songs that I recorded them times was just straight. Q: That's what they were, straight, simple, direct. You didn't demand as much? A: Not that I can remember. Of course, I was working with good people, we had Peter Tosh there, I just achieved that sound (chuckles)! He was just there to play, and just played his instrument, and he was on time, he was there sitting on the wall. Q: OK. Not too bad, no 'soon come'. A: Oh yeah! I was totally amazed that he was already there, y'know, ready to play. I really respected that. We later on became very good friends, we spent a lot of time together in Jamaica. You wanna hear about this: The day he got murdered, the night, I just spoke to him that day and I was on my way to spend the night at his house. I got into Kingston at about six o'clock, and he was murdered about eight o'clock. I came off the bus right at Half Way Tree and I saw Santa the drummer, Free I came there and we just came together to go up to his house, and a voice said to me 'Don't go to Peter's house'. And without saying anything to these guys, they never saw me. I was walking right up to them and I was about maybe a chain from them, and I just stopped, turned around and head up to Stony Hill instead. And I tell my friend Clive, say "I came to go to Peter and stay, then take me to Portland tomorrow morning". And then we'd go back to Westmoreland, to meet this man who say he was his father. But I'm gonna go tomorrow morning, I didn't feel like going up there. He woke me up the next morning, eight o'clock, said "Don't go up to Peter's house - he been dead!" I said "What?" (laughs)! "They just killed Peter Tosh". Q: Shock. A: Couldn't believe it, yeah. Maybe I would be still here alive, I don't know, because not everybody got killed but for sure, man, I wouldn't like to have that experience at all! That would have been a horrible... I hate the underground so much. I have come across this, I have come under the gun so much in Jamaica, but I heard it will never go ban. Luckily I'm here, maybe I wouldn't be alive today (laughs)! Sometime I kinda wonder 'Wha', am I still alive?' I've had the gun pointed to me so often, but always never far. Q: No wonder why you are in the States? Well, I guess that's where the 'infestation' of guns to Jamaica came from anyway, you could argue if it's that much safer. A: But you know, we don't make the gun in Jamaica! They are all made in the United States, they are made here! We are always gonna be subject to American foreign policy, which is not in our favour. So if you can manage to get out of Jamaica, then in many ways you could be safer. Because if it's not the gun, then it's some crazy driver would drive you off the road, or crash (chuckles)! Yet I ride motorcycle in Jamaica, and I used to be a maniac when it come to riding the motorcycle. Many times I could be killed too and makes me wonder how I could be so lucky. Q: 'Jah guide and protects'. A: Somehow! Maybe I have to stay here much longer, but I've come across some tight spots, man (laughs)! Really, I would've been dead. I mean, serious accidents when coming from concerts or the studio, just overexhausting myself when drivin' a car and just fall asleep and end up at a steep, three barbwires holding up the car, the car is hangin' over, just swinging. From that to falling asleep and crashing, on the opposite side of the road, on the main road in broad daylight, and nothing was coming. On the main road where trucks, trailers, buses and cars - and nothin' happen, nothing coming right at that moment. I just hit the curve - bang! Car rip up, and I'm still alive, man! And not hurt! It's miraculous. Q: And there you are (laughs)! A: Yeah! Sometime I have to ask myself 'Am I really here, man?' (laughs)! It's amazing! Yeah, these t'ings happened to me.

Ras Karbi.

Ras Karbi.

Q: You can thank your lucky star. Apart from all the gun business and the overall badness, you have the class differences in Jamaica, just like everywhere else. You said back in '76 that someone at a lecture you were giving at Kingston College the previous year, a young lady stated "How can you say you're Rasta when you look middle-class?" This was your appearance to her (laughs)! Can you recall that at all? A: Well, yeah, that's everywhere. You know, anywhere there's economical class barriers, then there's racial barriers, y'know, it's all over. Can't escape that on this earth, because it was the same way in the animal kingdom also. There's always boundaries and barriers to cross. But I remember living in Dermot's house for a while also, and in that area it's middle class. Many times when I'm going home I'm stopped by the cops, and they want to know 'What's your name, what are you doing in this neighbourhood?' That kinda thing, y'know. One thing though, I have a fervent name in Jamaica that will always carry me through no matter how much gun is pointing at me, and they ask for my name and I mention it and they'd say 'Ohh! OK, yeah man, yu have some song...'. You know, some questions they would be asking about my music, 'How come...?', y'know. All kinda thing, all kinda reaction I get. But back to that division stuff, as far as my look is concerned, I'm also a hybrid as many of us are in Jamaica. There's some mixture there besides being African, some mixture of Scottish-Irish, and also Arawak-Indian. Relatives on my father's side tend to be red-skinned, and some more Indian-European look, and on my mother's side it's just unalduterated African. Yeah, there's that kinda mixture. But people don't realise because I grow up in and wasn't born there, but one side of my family is very wealthy and one side is very poor, so I grow up in both worlds. I have sisters who are very wealthy, and very middle-class and very light-skinned, and if I am going to their house I get treated a certain way, because I am dark-skinned contrary to that. Oh boy, been through some rough times growing up and had to cross the class barrier many times. Q: Yeah. But also, musically speaking, due to the fact that your music is so broad, doesn't this hold you back? I believe people usually want to know where to put you, packaging, classification, all that stuff. A: I don't know if that has held me back. What could've held me back, if there's any such thing, 'cos I kinda choose my own path, but I refuse to record with a lotta producer down in Jamaica, because it's exploitation. I refuse to join it and just remain independent and record when I have the money to do it, and I have to survive also, in order to live. In a way a lot of people who got involved with these producers are very popular today and are making a pretty good living off it. But anyway, I never look at music as a way of making a living. You know, it's just for the love of it and, y'know, it was a very pleasurable thing for me so I do it when I want to. I never want to sell out, even if you noticed and commented on some of what you perhaps called the lighter stuff... Q: Yeah, some more lightweight, R&B-ish stuff - I felt it wasn't up to standard, or out of place with the heavier material you had on the CD ('Healing of the Nation - Chapter 1', a compilation of songs from the debut LP along with some new tracks, a 2001 release split in two volumes). A: Yeah, y'know, coming to America for a long time I was experimenting with not just R&B but quite good jazz and American folk music also, so I would always have some kind of mix. For years I used to perform original songs that's never been recorded, and I actually have an audience for that. And there's one side of me that is totally unknown in Jamaica. But I was always playing it, I was like living in two different worlds, I'm in here doing this and I'm in here doing that. So, I don't know, there was no category back then. I guess it's category-less and everything, it's just music. I never feel like I belong to any type of category. Q: 'To each their own'. A: Yeah, it's just music and I just don't want to be sitting in front of an audience that is so narrow-minded that they're gonna throw stones at you if you're not playing good, what they expect.

Ras Karbi.

Ras Karbi.

Ras Karbi and bredren.

Q: (Laughs) A: You know, I was living a lot abroad, I have a broader audience. Sometimes I was playing at Newport, in the America's Cup where I'm getting people from all parts of the world coming, and I perform at night clubs in Boston. But I've never confront myself to just a West Indian or a Jamaican audience, I never see myself entitled to that. I just record the songs the way I write them and how I want them to sound. But I get sabotaged too. Q: Sabotaged? A: Yeah, I know I get sabotaged many times within the industry in Jamaica. Because I was coming up to be a reckoning force, and many people saw it as a threat, what I was doing. For example, you have to get a record pressed by the record industry there and at the pressing plant - there's a few of them there, and when I give them the song to press they wouldn't press it, they throw it down. I remember once, I am always the one that is afraid to call names, but at Dynamic Sound when 'Babylon Gravestone' came out, the second pressing, I took the stamper, had the stamper made, and just couldn't... every time I go back to cut, it was never done! I kept going back for months! And always it's 'Oh, it's not ready, it's not ready'. So I decided to check 'Wha' that?', y'know. And I went inside the plant myself to look around to see what's happening, and I see the acetate laying on the ground with paint splashed all over it! And when I enquired, they said "Oh, that's the way we got it". So if that's how they got it, how come they never said something is wrong with it! And if they couldn't press it, how come it could just sit there for months and months? And I know that's not how they got it, because I was in charge of that. After I got the acetate I got it taped together, I cut the stamper from when I got it back, the first stamper, and I took it home. And it remained taped, it never opened and I came back, it's zealed, so I know that was sabotaged! And many times - Sonic Sounds was another company that would give me a lot of bad pressing, by using recycled vinyl, and so the quality detoriate. And even the cassettes, making me a lot of blanks! And I was paying for blank cassettes, man! They roll off all the top end, all the highs, the treble was totally gone, just a muffled sound, it's horrible what they were doing. In order to get my pressing I had to leave Jamaica and go here to line up all again to get the pressing done, where I could get a clean pressing, and then people start 'Oh man, it sound so good!' 'Cos I - for a while I had also a business in Jamaica, a CD store, and I wasn't selling mainly CD then, it was on cassette. And when I played my stuff people said it sound so good, y'know, that I could get this in Jamaica. But I couldn't get that in Jamaica, I spent a lot of money getting the recordings at the top mastering here in New York, just to maintain a high standard. And once it start pressing there, it goes right down, man! You know, there's my frustration with them, I just don't want to deal with these guys no more. I don't want to record for them, I don't want to work for them, 'cos it's always something, y'know. If I didn't have Sly & Robbie on the session, I wouldn't have got these microphones that they keep in the backroom. For example at Channel One, they have expensive microphones that they only use when Jo Jo (Hookim) is doing his studio work, their session, then they bring out his microphones. When you go inside the studio, they cheat the mikes you use, so your production could never be...

Ras Karbi.

Q: To the fullness, up to standard. A: Yeah, yeah! So they know what they have inside there, when they have their own session they bring the best, but when it's somebody else's session they bring the regular stuff. So if I wanted to advance it a little bit, it was held back. A lot of productions can't come up with the best with those producers, they're putting it down. It depends on how much respect you get from them, or from the musicians. With Dynamic, you can never align the best machine until Byron Lee is recording his own album, he sends someone down from New York to come down to align the tape, the machine. Once I was in the studio, with this kid - an apprentice, he start to align the tape, and when Byron Lee came in one day and saw he aligned the tape, and Byron Lee just fire him. Q: Sad stuff, but that's the record business for you. The whole fascination with traditional elements and folk music in particular, different customs and/or ethnic concepts, you always seem to be close to that side of the music and incorporate it into the modern format of the music, which we don't often hear. A: I respect my culture. Even when coming to America, I was never able to talk with an American accent, and trying to be as clear as possible with what I'm saying. I had to be very strong-headed, and I was never ashamed of it. Even at my young age, people thought I was already an old man, because of the words I was using, y'know, from our culture (laughs)! Old words and my voice also, people say my voice sound very old. When they learned I was only twenty-five, they were very shocked - 'What!' They thought I was like already in my fifties! It was so funny. And now a lot of people think I'm dead! Because they think at that age back then, I would be already dead. In fact, I met this girl in Miami who was kind of my chauffeur when I was shopping for my business, and I had to meet with her parents. And the next time I got to Miami she told me that her mother had said "That guy, don't bring him to our house because it's not Ras Karbi, because Ras Karbi is dead" (laughs)! I get that reaction all the time. But as an artist in Jamaica, it's a natural thing for me, 'cos even though I spend many years in Kingston, and living in Kingston, going to school in Kingston, I never consider myself a part of that big-town Kingston cliché, like the Kingston ghetto. My ghetto was the country ghetto, it's kinda different. You have guys from my neighbourhood like I Roy, who came out of my neighbourhood, and Prince Jazzbo, and a few others. But at the same time I was pursuing art, my scope of earning a living was a lot broader than most people that you could find in that ghetto life. I never wanted to sell the ghetto in my music.

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