No Reggae

[Lightning Rod]

It was my first trip to Jamaica. It was hot, August in the tropics. I was staying at Grandma's Place. This was a house in Red Ground, the area just above the cliffs in Negril. We were eighteen miles from the nearest telephone. Grandma ran a small rooming house. She was adored by the community, because she was....adorable. She was the magistrate in Negril. This is the equivalent of Justice of the Peace.

She sold me herb while I was there, lovely lamb's bread. If I had been arrested for possession, she would have been the judge I would have been tried before. She said, "Yes, that would be my job, but I couldn't lock anybody up for smokin' de herb. Everybody smokes de herb."


One day I was sitting on her porch, smoking a spliff and playing my flute. As I was playing, a seven foot tall Jamaican man came upon the porch. He introduces himself as Son Facie. He said that he played the reggae and that he wanted me to come play with his band that night. He said he would fetch me at dark-time.

He came with a flashlight at dusk and we walked on a path from Red Ground up into the hills a couple of miles. We came to a hut. The band was gathered there. The only tunable instrument was the banjo played by the leader of the band. Son Facie played the bass box. This is the instrument upon which reggae is built. It's like an oversized kalimba. It is made from a wooden crate. The player sits on it and plays the tongues between his legs. It has six or eight tongues made out of car-springs or something. It's the bass instrument.

So, we played under the moon, everything in the key of G. I fell in love with reggae that night.

Here is reggae tune that I wrote---texas style:

No Reggae In Texas

[Arcadia]

I love reggae, it´s a powerful evocating ritmo.