Every Little Thing Gonna Be Alright

by Hank Bordowitz

  While Bob remained in the house, Rob Partridge and Phil Cooper sat out in the garden. “I could hear,” said Cooper, head of international affairs, “Tekere saying to Bob, ‘I want this man Cooper. He’s been going around putting your image everywhere. He’s trying to portray you as a bigger man than our President.’ I could hear all this. “Then Bob came out and said to us, in hushed, perfect Queen’s English; ‘I think it’s a good idea for you to leave.’

  “Partridge and I went and packed, and took the first international flight out, which was to Nairobi. About five months later Tekere was arrested and put in jail; he had been involved in the murder of some white settler.”

  The next day Carter found himself being cajoled in the way Mills had been.

  “Job Kadengu told me that there was a show in Bulawayo we had to do. But I was signing for trucks on behalf of the minister of development, Tekere, in other words. So we drove out to the airport with all the gear, loaded up the plane we’d chartered and left the country.”

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  Children Playing in the Street: Bob Marley, Family Man

  Bob Marley had 11 children (that he acknowledged). He performed and recorded with his wife, Rita, and she also had a solo career before they met, during their marriage, and after Bob passed on. Needless to say, their children are also extremely talented. Ziggy Marley and the Melody Makers—featuring Ziggy’s older sisters Cedella and Sharon and his brother Stephen—have made inroads into the mainstream that eluded their father (several pop hits, the theme song to a TV show). Damian “Jr. Gong” Marley, Stephen Marley, and several other of his children also have developed fairly substantial recording careers.

  But there are other routes to creativity. In addition to singing, Cedella has made her bones in fashion design with a line called Tuff Gong clothing.

  Beyond that, one of the underplayed points about Bob Marley the man was that he was an accomplished athlete. In his youth, he might have dreamed of becoming a world-class soccer player instead of a world-class musician, and he was a committed, often daily player throughout his life. But at a shade over 5-foot-4, professional sports were not in his future.

  However, his son Rohan became a football star in college, helping to lead the University of Miami Hurricanes to a college champi-onship in 1991. Despite his size (5'7''), he played briefly for the Ottawa Rough Riders in the Canadian Football League. Rohan also had the good taste to sire several children with multiple Grammy–winner Lauryn Hill.

  Marley Boys Set to Popularize Reggae

  by Anya McCoy

  (Source: Variety, June 8, 1998)

  Welcome to Jamaica North.

  Bob Marley himself could not have predicted the new popularity of reggae, nor its move into big business, with Miami as its base. Long after his death, members of his family and other South Florida artists are leading reggae into the mainstream.

  The last few years have seen a flurry of activity, as local bands have evolved their music with new multi-genre sounds and taken greater commercial control of their product.

  While such bands are cutting Grammy-winning albums, they also are producing songs for soundtracks, leasing others for commercials and even getting into the restaurant biz.

  Reggae’s close association with Miami dates back to 1977, when Marley purchased a home here. Since then, practically the whole Marley clan has come to be based in South Florida, and in the 1990s several dozen more top reggae artists have relocated to Jamaica.

  Family affair

  Last year, Bob’s brother Richard Marley Booker, and Bob’s sons Ziggy, Stephen, Rohan, Robbie, Julian and Damian formed the promotion company Marley Boys Inc., with the idea of taking reggae mainstream. Hence Ziggy Marley and the Melody Makers—the most successful of the second-generation Marley bands—are featured in television ads for Cover Girl cosmetics.

  From Miami, Booker heads up Nine Miles Inc., overseeing the Visitors Center in Jamaica, where tourists go to make pilgrimages to Bob’s birthplace. Booker also is exec producer of Miami’s Bob Marley Caribbean Festival each February.

  The Marleys will swim further into the mainstream in late 1998 when they open the flagship of a planned chain of reggae cafes, similar to House of Blues, at Universal Studios in Orlando. More film and music deals are in the works.

  Circle rounds up hits

  After the Marleys, one of the earliest major bands to migrate to Miami was easy-listening reggae outfit Inner Circle. Two years ago, this self-managed outfit built a large, Mediterranean-style recording studio in North Miami, which also hosts IC’s in-house label, SoundB-woy Entertainment.

  Miami’s indigenous reggae label, Shang Records in South Beach, is helmed by Clifton “Specialist” Dillon, who has his eye on the big prizes—film soundtracks, world tours, signing or creating big names in reggae.

  Dillon has guided the recent career of Ky-mani Marley, snagging him spots on three soundtracks, “Money Talks,” “Senseless,” and “Movin on Up.” He also has Patra and Shabba Ranks (both new Miami residents), plus M.K. Shine and Mad Cobra on the Shang roster.

  Only Natural: the Marleys Carry on Their Father’s Mission—As They See It

  by Celeste Fraser Delgado

  (Source: Miami New Times [Florida], May 2, 2002)

  SOMETIME past midnight a heavily tinted black Mercedes pulls up to the gate of Circle House, the posh private North Miami recording facility owned by reggae veterans Inner Circle. The driver cracks the window and extends an arm to activate the intercom, his long dreads brushing across his dark skin as the gate swings open. This is Stephen Marley, second son to Robert Nesta and Rita Marley, who inherited from his father not only a harrowing wail but also his less-celebrated-but-no-less-keen sense for the business of music, making him a sought-after producer by both reggae and hip-hop artists. Beside Stephen sits little brother Damian, son of Bob and Cindy Breakspeare (Jamaica’s former Miss World); he has inherited his father’s nickname “Gong” (Jr. in his case) and his mother’s long limbs, light complexion, and gorgeous face. Together the two Marleys recently scored the family’s fourth Grammy, taking the reggae award for Halfway Tree, a star-studded multi-artist collaboration held together by Damian’s pretty pout and Stephen’s savvy production.

  As a Melody Maker back in the day with big brother Ziggy and sisters Cedella and Sharon, Stephen also had a share in winning three Grammys in 1988, 1989, and 1997. Their father himself never won one, dying three years before that category was added to the awards in 1984. Indeed the Grammys’ recognition of reggae is owed in large part to Bob’s lifework; winning seems almost an extension of their birthright. But if so many things come naturally to the Marley brood, it is Stephen who has taken charge of putting nature to good use. His is rarely the picture on the record or the name on the marquee, but like his father’s spirit, he is always present, even when his influence is unseen: coordinating the long list of guest artists and beatmakers; divvying up duties on every track; conjuring the actual sound in the studio.

  Tonight the brothers are groggy. They’ve just awakened after spending all of the night and most of the day before in the studio, laying tracks with family friend Lauryn Hill. Slowly, slowly they are getting ready to do the same thing all over again. Stephen pulls a black equipment case out of the Mercedes trunk and hauls it into the studio. Damian lights a spliff, then wanders around the Circle House patio. He is shy and standoffish, huddled into the hood of his sweatshirt, even though he is ostensibly the Grammy winner, the star. Only when Stephen bounds back onto the patio does the interview begin as big brother tells how it is decided who will record what, when.

  “Nature,” says Stephen, sifting a handful of herb in his palm. “You have to understand we are blood. We don’t have to say, ‘Jr. Gong, six o’clock tomorrow.’ It’s our nature. We don’t force.”

  “It was my time,” Jr. Gong pipes in from his slouch on the opposite couch.

  “Julian is the next project,” announces Stephen, nodding his head toward yet another brother who has recen
tly arrived. And for Damian and Stephen personally, what’s next? “For us personally,” repeats Stephen. “Our personal end is Julian’s record. Same thing.”

  Bob Marley’s twelve children grew up together with a shared sense of mission and religious fervor passed on by their various mothers. “It’s plain,” says Stephen, after taking a long toke, “My father being an icon, women a vehicle for bringing forth the seed. Them do their duty.” So there was never any friction among the households? “Woman a woman,” sighs Stephen, “have jealousy, but never animosity. When you see the seed, you see Bob. Women respect that.”

  Is there a lot of pressure in living life as Bob Marley’s seed? “We are Rasta,” says Stephen through a cloud of smoke. “It’s very clear what we have to do on earth. Jah send a soldier to deal with the music for the revolution.” Passionate now, he rises to his feet. “We have been chosen as an instrument, a tool, to bring people together. One aim, one destiny, one heart.” He pauses, then walks toward a table laden with freshly delivered pizza. “No pressure in that.”

  Cedella Marley Launches a Distinctive Line of Customized Denim and Leather Reminiscent of Her Father’s Rude Boy Style

  (Source: Tuff Gong press release, 2001)

  Apiece of new, a piece of old, Cedella Marley has taken pieces seen before and combined them with contemporary urban style to create a medley of then and now. Her premier line, Catch A Fire, introduces patchwork denim and leather to help every woman express her frivolously casual side.

  Reared in an era that is already enjoying a revival, Cedella took fashion cues from all that surrounded her growing up. “My aunt used to take one of my mom’s dresses and make two tiny ones for me and Sharon,” said Cedella. “She taught me how to sew and I’ve loved it ever since.” The Catch A Fire line pays homage to the legendary I-Threes and to her stylish father, the natty dresser Bob Marley, Cedella’s biggest fashion influence. Adopting the name of his first album as dub for pieces he influenced, Marley’s lyrics brand belt buckles and t-shirts, while his rude boy style leaves its mark throughout.

  Giving rebirth to retired wear is what Cedella’s clothing is about. With a refreshing combination of vintage styles and today’s urban trends, the line offers something for every independent woman. Without a doubt, Catch A Fire shows the unique perspective of a creator loyal to the classic ’70s look but who integrates her personal vision into every creation. “I couldn’t find anything out there that I really liked for myself,” Cedella explains, “so I started making these clothes for myself and it just took off from there.” Customizing denim for her family and celebrities such as Lil’ Kim, Sarah Jessica Parker, Amanda Lewis, Destiny’s Child, and Eve, Cedella recently decided to share her passion and past with the general public.

  Catch A Fire offers everything from jeans to jackets, belts to bags. Full-length dresses and wrap-around skins are seductive. Patterned patches of leather or studded accents personalize each piece, all with a weathered look of comfort. Leather flower pins are the perfect accessory. Asymmetrical tees add flair and a line of under-tanks and briefs are shyly sexy.

  For the woman who is confident about her sexuality but wants to keep it relaxed and understated, Catch A Fire is now available at themarleystore.com and select stores throughout the country.

  Cedella Marley’s life has always been rooted in music and culture. Growing up in the hills of Jamaica, and touring the world as a Melody Maker, Cedella has had the best of both worlds. A little bit country, and a little bit rock ’n’ roll. As the first child of the legendary Reggae singer Bob Marley, Cedella has witnessed history in the making and she has not for one moment stopped to let anything pass her by. She has taken her vast influences of people and places, culture and sounds, and put them all to work.

  Currently living in Miami, Cedella balances her life as performer and one of four Melody Makers with the considerable demands of being CEO of Tuff Gong International and a full-time mom of two. With her group she has eight acclaimed albums and two Grammy awards under her belt, has toured internationally and performed on numerous TV shows. As head of the record label formed by her father, Cedella has developed razor sharp business skills. She is a natural performer and has received critical acclaim for her on-screen work with Gina Gershon in Joey Breaker. It is in every aspect of her life, be it performing, administering, or at home, that Cedella has actively safeguarded and developed her father’s great legacy and style. It is a challenge she has always met with determination, self-confidence and energy. It is now that Cedella has harnessed her creative energy and put it towards developing a line of customized women’s clothing, appropriately named Catch A Fire, the title of her father’s first album. Through this project, Cedella once again intends to keep her father’s memory and message alive while sharing with the world her own distinct sensibility.

  4

  So Much Trouble in the World Today:

  “Third World” Hero

  Bob Marley’s image is ubiquitous. His face adorns posters, T-shirts, and jackets. It adorns walls in thousands of different renderings. Throughout Africa and the Caribbean, Marley has become an object of near deification, a star with a following of Elvis-like proportions, perhaps even bigger and stronger. In many countries, his image evokes the dreams of freedom that he sang of, redemption songs in reality. He inspired freedom fighters in Zimbabwe and gave hope to the down-pressed everywhere. His face has become the emblem of the quest for freedom, both politically and spiritually.

  He has also become symbolic of sympathy for the African diaspora. In a way no other artist of African extraction has, Marley has reached people of all races and given them a taste, through his music, through his life and celebrity, of what it means to be poor, what it means to be part of a hungry mob looking at people with dem belly full.

  The place of his birth (wherein his tomb also resides) has become a tourist mecca, despite its relative isolation. Indeed, the village is called Nine Miles because it was nine miles away from any other outpost of humanity back when Marley was a boy. His Hope Road home in the “good” area of Kingston has become a museum with guided tours. He has been celebrated in literature and panel graphics and even at theme parks. If ever there were an icon for the rise and need of developing nations of the world, Bob Marley has become that icon.

  Redemption Day

  by Alice Walker

  (Source: Mother Jones, December 1986)

  BY five o’clock we were awake, listening to the soothing slapping of the surf and watching the sky redden over the ocean. By six we were dressed and knocking on my daughter’s door. She and her friend Kevin were going with us (Robert and me) to visit Nine Miles, the birthplace of someone we all loved, Bob Marley. It was Christmas day, bright, sunny, and very warm, and the traditional day of thanksgiving for the birth of someone sacred.

  I missed Bob Marley when his body was alive, and I have often wondered how that could possibly be. It happened, though, because when he was singing all over the world, I was living in Mississippi being political, digging into my own his/herstory, writing books, having a baby—and listening to local music, B. B. King and the Beatles. I liked dreadlocks, but only because I am an Aquarian; I was unwilling to look beyond the sexism of Rastafarianism. The music stayed outside my consciousness. It didn’t help either that the most political and spiritual of reggae music was suppressed in the United States, so that “Stir It Up” and not “Natty Dread” or “Lively Up Yourself” or “Exodus” was what one heard. And then, of course, there was disco, a music so blatantly soulless as to be frightening, and impossible to do anything to but exercise.

  I first really heard Bob Marley when I was writing a draft of the screenplay for The Color Purple. Each Monday I drove up to my studio in the country, a taxing three-hour drive, worked steadily until Friday, drove back to the city, and tried to be two parents to my daughter on weekends. We kept in touch by phone during the week, and I had the impression that she was late for school every day and living on chocolates.

  My
friends Jan and Chris, a white couple nearby, seeing my stress, offered their help, which I accepted in the form of dinner at their house every night after a day’s work on the script. One night, after yet another sumptuous meal, we pushed back the table and, in our frustration at the pain that rides on the seat next to joy in life (cancer, pollution, invasions, the bomb, etc.), began dancing to reggae records: UB–40, Black Uhuru . . . Bob Marley. I was transfixed. It was hard to believe the beauty of the soul I heard in “No Woman No Cry,” “Coming In from the Cold,” “Could You Be Loved,” “Three Little Birds,” and “Redemption Song.” Here was a man who loved his roots (even after he’d been nearly assassinated in his own country) and knew they extended to the ends of the earth. Here was a soul who loved Jamaica and loved Jamaicans and loved being a Jamaican (nobody got more pleasure out of the history, myths, traditions, and language of Jamaica than Bob Marley), but who knew it was not meant to limit itself (or even could) to an island of any sort.

  Here was the radical peasant-class, working-class consciousness that fearlessly denounced the wasichu (the greedy and destructive) and did it with such grace you could dance to it. Here was a man of extraordinary sensitivity, political acumen, spiritual power and sexual wildness; a free spirit if ever there was one. Here, I felt, was my brother. It was as if there had been a great and gorgeous light on all over the world, and somehow I’d missed it. Every night for the next two months I listened to Bob Marley. I danced with his spirit—so much more alive still than many people walking around. I felt my own dreadlocks begin to grow.