People Funny Boy

By David Katz

The death of Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry almost a year ago at the age of 85 marked the end of an era for the popular music of the world at large, due to the innovative recording techniques he pioneered in Jamaica in the 1960s and 70s.

In People Funny Boy: The Genius of Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry, I asked a number of musicians and artists, such as Linton Kwesi Johnson, Robert Palmer and Wayne Jobson to share their memories of the magic Perry invoked at his Black Ark studio in 1977, as Jamaica endured worsening instability. The Jamaican-born poet, playwright and activist, Johnson, recalled that there was an uncommon mix of kinship and divergence when he interviewed Perry about his work.

‘After he started putting out those Black Ark records, I realised he is a special guy, and I began to see him like the Salvador Dalí of reggae music with an unorthodox approach,’ said Johnson. ‘I met Lee “Scratch” Perry in
1977 at the offices of Island Records, and at that time he was producing the Heart of the Congos album. I remember saying to him, “You have a unique sound, you use the flanger and phaser”, but he didn’t want to let out his trade secrets. Most of the time he spoke in parables, about things like “the shadow that walketh underneath a man”. The other thing that struck me about Scratch at that time was his shamanistic approach to music-making: he thinks like an Obeah man, and I think, to him, music is a kind of magical act, an act of conjuring up things, whether they be evocative of Africa, judgement, Armageddon, or whatever.’

Perry produced some of his greatest work as the broader Cold War politics at play in the region pushed Jamaica towards an undeclared civil war. You can hear the tension on songs like ‘City Too Hot’, which reflected Perry’s growing insecurity.

‘It was war, gunshot and fighting, roadblock and problem, everything getting upside down, a rum-head problem and all that,’ said Perry. ‘Sometimes in Kingston you hear that another set of politicians send gunman to cause havoc, then soldiers come out to back up the police, to make themselves stronger, so places have to close down, and shops have to lock. Police in full control, so business have to close down. It’s always happening in Kingston.’

Perry’s overburdened work schedule added to the stress. He would typically begin his sessions at one o’clock in the afternoon and work straight through to five or six in the morning, then sleep until ten and be on the beach by eleven for exercise, the cycle endlessly repeating itself. Sometimes people were already at his gates by nine o’clock in the morning, and still the sessions would stretch right through to the following dawn.

White soul singer Robert Palmer travelled to Jamaica at this inopportune time to undertake some ill-fated work at Perry’s studio. According to Palmer, Perry was now seen as a mystical leader: ‘His studio seemed to be the spiritual and political centre of the island. It was heavy, and it was all about getting this magic on the tracks.’

Despite the rapport that developed, the week Palmer spent at the Ark was marked by hostile confrontation. Perry was continually testing the singer, and harsh negativity emanated from the assembled dread idlers, intent on disturbing his concentration.

‘These guys come around wearing robes and they’ve got magic wands and shit. I’m doing vocals and one stands in front of the mike and starts doing this weird dance. I thought it was fucking ridiculous, but I couldn’t laugh because it would have been an insult. That didn’t work, so they brought in another guy who stood with his back to me and pushed me with his shoulder blades into the microphone while this other guy did the magic wand shit. It was very strange, and Lee didn’t do a thing to try and stop it. He was very amused by my reaction. When that didn’t work, they brought all these friends who were dressed like military. They gave me the white boy routine: What’re you doing here? And Lee’s looking at me, grinning… he was like, I can’t do anything about these hangers-on. I’m sorry, I think it’s ridiculous too.’

At one of Palmer’s sessions, Perry met Wayne Jobson, an aspiring singer and guitarist based in Golden Grove in the hills of St Ann. Jobson was from a prominent family that had close links with the Wailers: cousin Diane was Bob Marley’s lawyer and one of his closest confidants, while cousin Dickie acted as the Wailers’ manager circa 1973–74. Wayne experienced the Black Ark as a unique space driven by Perry’s idiosyncrasies: ‘I remember he was producing, and he wanted a female vocalist; [common-law wife] Pauline was in the kitchen mixing some dumplings with flour all over her hands, so she brush off the flour and come in the studio and sing the line, then go back in and mix up the dumplings again. In the studio he put a pineapple in front of the fan – it was like scented air conditioning. On the walls was all these X-rated pictures out of Hustler, and I’m thinking, “Is this a Rastaman with all this pornographic stuff?” It was wild. At the time, you could sense his genius, but it was this kind of madness that just changes every day.’

Jobson’s English and Scottish forebears established plantations in St Ann, and he was of mixed Spanish and African heritage too, but Perry said he was happy to work with him because Jobson was an Arawak – that is, an indigenous Amerindian whose population was decimated by the Spanish in the 1600s. A baffled Jobson thus returned a few days later to record a five- song demo with the nucleus of his band, Native, which would be championed by former Sex Pistol John Lydon in London, tipping Native as the next big thing.

Though another set of stunning innovations would emerge from the Black Ark in 1978, many projects were abortive, counter-productive enterprises that would fill Perry with unbearable frustration, ultimately pushing him over the edge.

An extract from the revised and expanded edition of from People Funny Boy: The Genius of Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry by David Katz (White Rabbit, 2022)

https://www.whiterabbitbooks.co.uk/titles/david-katz/people-funny-boy/9781474622554/

Inside Black Ark by Adrian Boot