Wendy's Perspective:

Long Beach Bob Marley Fest

By Wendy Russell

Every February I look forward to the Annual Ragga Muffins Festival/Bob Marley Day Celebration in Long Beach, California, but when I got the 22nd Annual Ragga Muffins press release my excitement faded as I saw the decidedly dancehall and hip-hop lineup. Seen: all superstars and crowd pleasers, true; Shaggy, Sean Paul, Damian Marley, Buju Banton, Anthony B, Chrisinti, Norris Man, Donovan, CeCile, George Nooks, Tippa Irie, Lloyd Brown, Peter Hunningale, Don Campbell, Detour Posse, Damian, Stephen, and Julian Marley, Slightly Stoopid... but where's the roots reggae for the more traditional reggae music fan-- such as this roots gal? Oh, here is Sister Carol, Barrington Levy, Steel Pulse and Wailing Souls. Mmmmm, all great performers, and popular--Sean Paul is even on MTV and Shaggy on morning talk shows, but overall, I decided I would stay home and preview CDs for my radio show. I emailed the festival to say that although I was not coming, please do not drop me from the press lists since I planned to come next year, when a rootsier lineup might prevail. I next received a return email from festival promoter Barbara Barabino herself, asking if I would work for the festival!

I wondered what my job would be. Smart Barbara, I thought, she knows I will not care if I miss much of the show so she wants to put me to work. Maybe something with the reggae stars? I admit, even after 18 years I am still giddy over that idea and so I dreamed of hanging out with Sister Carol and burning one with Barrington.

But Ragga Muffins had other plans for me!

Friday I left Fresno at 9 am and I was there at 3 pm. In the hotel lobby I saw friends and musicians checking in, milling about the lobby, happily greeting old friends arriving from all over the world. I hurried over to the Long Beach Sports Arena looking for my new boss for this weekend. My job was helping one hundred and six vendors load into the huge Exhibit Hall Saturday at 7am. I was to make sure they set up in the correct 15x15 space, that they all had electricity and anything else they needed to have a successful weekend. It was challenging work and easy fun. I helped an empty room, half the size of a city block, bloom into a thriving colorful marketplace, all in only three and a half hours. I saw another side of building a festival; the vendor side. At first just a few vendors trickled in, pushing dollies and pulling wagons full of worldly goods. Some tried for a better space, and two even changed their space number to a better one, thinking I would not notice. A lot of the vendors were old friends from other festivals.

Soon it was a flood of wares streaming past my spot, all transported by folks that had obviously done this before. I never had thought about it, but did you know that someone spends 2 hours carefully laying out those braided bracelets in perfect order on the table, for you to browse through? That the glass products are each carefully wrapped and unwrapped each day, one by one? Canopies sprang up, display cases were assembled, and speakers were wired in. This was serious business.

I stood in the entry, checking off each vendor, pointing to his or her chalked space. I quickly learned to find something great about each and every space in the vast hall. "That far left corner that you are assigned is the best! You are right by the Kid's Area so the parents can shop and watch kids!" or "That far right row is the best! You are straight down from the money machine!" or "Way over there you are right next to the bathrooms and that's great!" I would send the vendors back to the gate only when I could not honestly find one redeeming quality about their space. All were out to maximize sales and grab the customer. One orange-haired vendor setting up next to my check-in spot kept repeating all morning as he set up, "Wait 'til you see my giant smokin' pipe on the top of my booth!" Another vendor said that he had the best art glass and sure, look around but "I guarantee you will come back to the Wizard!"

At 10:30 am I took a quick break from the Exhibit Hall vendors to head over to the Ragga Muffins Press Conference. (And yes, I had told Barbara that I knew to never leave my post!) Her last words to me were, "But don't miss the U.K. reggae!"

Wow! The conference room was packed and spilling out the double doors with reggae stars, their agents and managers, radio DJs, TV people, photographers and press folk, with everyone juggling position for the best location. Russell Gerlach and Sandra Iszadore-McNish presided over our happy, excited people as we yelped hellos to old friends, exchanged business cards and met new contacts. The stars then took the mic and all eyes turned forward!

Sandra took the lady's prerogative and started with Ce'Cile, who told of her start in the industry-side of music before becoming a dancehall singer and that today we would see the "reggae side" of her on stage, not the dancehall side that she had to begin her career with. Next, from England, Peter Hunningale explained how the sterling versus the dollar conversion had helped to isolate English reggae, the result being a difference in style which was "more melodious and lyrical than it's Jamaican foundation music." Don Campbell, also raised in England, spoke too. Buju Banton told us of wanting to help the youth with his reality music. Just returned, he had enjoyed his tour in Africa but warned us of a few promoters in Africa " whose Word was not as strong as the words they speak." He clued us to his next CD, "Friends For Life" and spoke of the globalization of music, hip-hop mixing into reggae into R&B into… and right then, without warning, I flashed back and tears filled my eyes...

It was this same room. Same time. But at last year's Ragga Muffins Bob Marley Celebration Press Conference with Luciano. My friend, IJoice, was back in Fresno at the end of her battle with lung cancer. Luciano had met her and prayed for her months earlier so when he saw me in the Press Conference that morning, he had stopped and asked how my friend was doing and that he wanted to call her. Having been a Girl Scout and thus always prepared, I pulled out my cell phone and speed-dialed IJoice. Her hello sounded very weak. I gave Luciano the phone and he walked away down the hallway for a private space. Now, remembering that for her last three weeks on this earth she had so treasured those last words together, I could not help my tears on this day, one year later...

Ragga Muffins' Bob Marley Celebration founder, Barbara Barabino, was speaking to the packed room, "...the Bible is already there for you, Bob Marley is already there for you...this is a special year for Ragga Muffins, now the largest American reggae festival, and we are out to expose you to something different, U.K. reggae!" She also said that she had known her 2003 lineup at last year's festival, and to get ready for a great show this weekend!

An idea flickered in my head. I started to think about how Barbara had called me to work when I had said I was not a fan of the line up. Now she tells us all we are in for something special.

Leaving the Press Conference, I crossed over into the venue, hurrying to go back to my assigned job with the vendors. Music assaulted me from every direction. In my two-hour absence from the Exhibit Hall, the vendor village had sprouted many massive speakers, all blasting different songs at their highest volume. The gates had been open one hour and customers swarmed around the booths. A heavy cloud of smoke floated in the air above one end of the huge hall. Under the cloud, I saw four cops, standing in front of the orange-haired guy's booth, looking up with two of the four cops laughing. On top of the booth was a three-foot-long, papier-mâché, 'packed' chalice bowl, it's fake marijuana seemingly ablaze with lots of billowing smoke pouring out. The cops seemed unsure of what to do next as I thanked them for the photo op! That orange-haired vendor had been right; he had quite the customer attention-getter!

Back at my post in the Exhibit Hall, the vendors were all set up. It was only 1pm and my job was over until tomorrow morning. What would I do since the dancehall lineup was not my cup of tea? I decided to wander towards backstage.

What a mob a' people! The Long beach Sports Arena holds 14,000 and it was a sold out show. I seemed to be moving against the current. I went out of the Hall and into the concourse full of another 50 or so vendors. It was loud in there too. Practically everyone I spoke with was looking for an extra backstage pass or another ticket, while I looked for any Twinkle Brothers release I did not have. You can buy goods, crafts and art that you never see at any other festival. This event has the most vendors and the best food. (That I know, because I once wrote an article on festival food and whew, what tough fun: eating my way through each booth at festivals all summer long

The huge arena was dark after coming in from outside. A woman was trying to get back stage, "But I am his Queen--this is his son!" I hear her say as I wandered through the door into backstage and smack into Mabrak and Akua! Akua and her band, Queen's Compound, are a great act; we need more women upon the stage and Queen's Compound is four females in front of a great band, singing Jah's glory!

Bkacstage I met up with friends and reggae family and generally snooped into things and snapped photos all around. Barbara ran past, saying again, "Wait until you see the U.K. posse, Wendy!" Keith Porter of the esteemed Itals and Mama Lion from the defunct Vermont Reggae Fest had arrived from back East to attend the show. Also in the house was photographer and best party buddy Diane Issachar who flew in from Florida. Bassist Amlak Tafari had come from England to MC the festival, as he does every year. Barrington Levy was in his dressing room, surrounded by fans with cameras. Bread and Pipe were backstage too of the Wailing Souls. Rumor was that Carol Bruno of Reggae On The River and performer Ben Harper would show up too. Fun flowed freely.

Through the air came an amplified voice as soft as honey and thus Don Campbell began a great two hours of music that included Peter Hunningale, Lloyd Brown and Tippa Irie, all from England. That spilled into a short bit from Detour Posse, and then Jamaican songstress Ce'Cile took the stage. Lively and confident, wearing a modern look of tight jeans and a mid-eastern beaded and golden halter top, she strutted the stage and took the crowd with her as she sang her hits...it was all good. George Nooks engaged the crowd too.

As I photographed the action on stage from the photo pit, that same woman that had been trying to get backstage nabbed my arm, so I bent to hear her say, "I am _____'s queen, could you tell him I am here?" I did not know him, but I knew his well-known band. I said I would deliver a note. She had one already written! Several pages in fact, that she thrust in to my hands. I left and went into the dressing rooms. There, in the room marked for the band she requested, were two reggae musicians with nine women-the type you see so much of at southern California shows. When I asked for _____, it turned out he was the one with the two skinnier girls draped over him. The woman I had left in the crowd had looked so beautifully dread and regal compared to these two girls. I handed him the note and left.

Then the master Barrington Levy took the stage and he did conquer the arena with all his great songs from throughout his long career. Backstage, everyone was in a tight ball, crowded around, getting autographs and taking pictures with a guy with no dreads, wearing a cap. One of the pack walking by me, holding their scribbled-on paper, exclaiming to their friend, "THAT was Buju Banton!" --But it wasn't!

Wailing Souls was just finishing on stage with a strong sounding set I had heard on the run while having fun.

Next on was Buju Banton ablaze! Wearing tawny velvet as if he wore lion skin and with dreadlocks free and wild, he was all over the stage in righteous glory! I was awestruck: he was so gentle and articulate at the press conference that morning, so smiling and friendly-- and here he was now the fiery Jah soldier; pounding us with conscious munitions armed to save our souls! Afterwards the dressing rooms were havoc. Steel Pulse, on stage next, always causes that, and mixed with Buju's loyal fans surging towards their General, it was high adrenaline and chaotic disorder. Moss Jacobs, Barbara's RaggaMuffin partner, hurried by and I could see he was checking for proper wristbands on this mob around us. Steel Pulse's set rushed by in a blur of red gold green and loud loud LOUD bass. Just what I love!

It was late, I was bedraggled. I realized I had not eaten for hours, so on my way out I stopped at Auntie P's for a to-go plate of whole red snapper, rice n' peas, plantains and veggies. Then I stopped at the Funnel Cake booth, got one piled-high dessert with two forks and headed for the hotel. It was a good thing I had been given two forks because as I crossed the causeway there was Barrington Levy sitting on the rock wall. Greetings were exchanged and he asked what that was. I explained it was lots of strawberries on a vanilla cake, smothered in whipped creme and real good. He eyed it. I knew what he wanted, so I offered it to him. He ate about a third of it as I held the plate in my hands. I was in heaven. As a roots DJ, I play Barrington's music every radio show and here he was, eating out of my hands. I could kind of say that, couldn't I?!

Sunday I woke up early and headed over to the Exhibit Hall, but the vendors really did not need me this second day of the festival. My boss said to check for illegal roaming vendors selling goods in the crowds. At first you might think, "What a bitchy promoter," but it's actually the legal vendors that insist on this. How can their prices compete with a vendor that does not have to pay rent?

I left the Hall and headed to the press conference. What a roomful of soldiers that was, from radio, television, print media and online services, all earnestly doing their best to spread every word these modern-day prophets had to say! The industry-crowded, star-packed standards of Saturday's press conference were carried forward to Sunday. Sandra Iszadore-McNish again began with a queen: Sister Carol. Questions came from around the room. When asked what the youth need to do to rise up, she said first they must recognize their talent and practice. Then, learn that "show business" is TWO words: "show" and "business." Some get caught up in the "show" and get less caught up in the "business" but in actuality, both need attention. When asked who her favorite new female artist was she immediately responded, "Empress Treasure." Later, I tried to find an Empress Treasure CD at the vendors without any luck.

Chrisinti spoke next. His name has several meanings. In Ghana it means "because of Christ." Christopher is his middle name. In Jamaica "inti" means "what?" "What just happened?" which is what Chrisinti always asked, all day, every day--hence the name. All the Jamaicans in the room laughed at this explanation, in that certain way, so that I know there is more to the story!

Norris Man of the Universal Message Posse gave eloquent words on our battles ahead in these here times. Next up, Donavan explained that his absence from the scene for a few years was to "find himself." His blunt self-examination and bare honest emotion struck me then, and again later performing on stage, when that same intensity blazed up in his song. Anthony B sat calmly, with such a serene look on his face, listening to it all, smiling or nodding in agreement. While sitting there I marveled at all the wisdom I have heard at these press conferences and I prayed that maybe, just maybe, one of the artists sitting in front of me might be our next prophet that will illuminate our path ahead, much as Bob Marley did for this past generation.

All of this morning's powerful reasonings had my mind awhirl and then Claudette stepped up to the mic, the woman from the What About The Children Foundation. Helping on the Festival's production, she devotes her energies to the children's area that is located in one corner of the huge Exhibit Hall. She brought up the festival name, "RaggaMuffins," explaining that RaggaMuffins means "soldiers" and it was time to FIGHT! She so roused up the room with revival-like fever that we would have followed her into any battle --if only our enemies of hate, corruption and greed were touchable--and I am sure she inspired future political action among many of us in that press room. She said, "If you don't DO something, then YOU are part of the problem!"

Next began the musical part of the day's fun! I headed over to the arena in Sister Carol's entourage. As the respectful crowds parted for reggae's Mother Culture, I saw what that might be like every day, to always be stared at and decided I would not like it.

Inside the arena, a raucous Slightly Stoopid was on stage and the Universal Message Posse were backstage. Anthony B, Norris Man, Donavan, Chrisinti and the Star Trail Crew were surrounded by DJs, press, fans and groupies every step. Sean Paul and Shaggy were both in their dressing rooms, with jams of folks outside their doors. Yesterday's performers were all around too. Backstage was getting crowded. Security was hard-pressed to keep the wrong-colored-wristband people out. Most people may not be aware that artists demand a private, secure dressing rooms on their contracts so by intruding, fans might be jeopardizing the performance of the very artists they are sneaking in to see!

The sets by the Universal Message Posse rocked the arena to a high pitch and then Sister Carol took the stage, reaching even higher. So much consciousness ablaze through musical lyrics! The arena was full as I scanned the balconies. Flare-ups were visible everywhere and the hazy smoke floated over all.

When Ben Harper came on stage I worried that he had it tough, following such strong fiery performances with his different style. The crowds were restless throughout his set but I felt he showed excellent showmanship. I remembered a few years ago when Eek-A-Mouse faced a similar lineup mismatch, he had quite a dissimilar reaction, throwing a glass of water at the crowd in his frustration and anger.

When I came back into the backstage area, the atmosphere was charged up even higher with the Marleys on stage. There was that Hollywood feel to the backstage crowd. Women in tight clothes and low cut tops were pushing in, all with some item draped over their wrists to hide the fact they did not have the proper wristband. I pushed through to the photo pit but was hastily reprimanded in spite of my press wristband. "The Marleys don't want any cameras and closed the pit after 10 minutes," the security guy told me. Bugged, I went around to the other side of the stage and tried to go up on the stage itself. Security let me do that, go figure! I took photos as Damian, Stephen and Julian and Ghetto Youth inflamed the crowd with their own hits, a homage to their dad and mighty words of political action.

Closing the photo pit to the press has always bothered me. Being a promoter for 18 years, I know that the press, or the lack of, can make or break my event. Artists must know that the press and the DJs are the ones who get their songs and name in front of the CD-buying public! So when an artist feels that their fame precludes excluding access to the very folks that helped that fame grow, well, it strikes me as arrogant.

So when the rumor swept backstage that press would not be allowed to photograph Sean Paul or Shaggy on stage I was really bothered by that. I went to go ask the festival promoters who directed me to the agents. "No-- just rumor" was the answer. It turns out the security guy had also been mistaken during the Marleys. Their agent had just said no VIDEO cameras, but that mistake caused security to chase EVERY camera from the pit! So unfortunately, most of that performance was gone forever now.

On the stage Sean Paul had the huge arena's crowd in a frenzy. Everyone was dancing and most people in the audience forefront were singing along to the popular star's many hit songs from radio and MTV airplay. As I said at the beginning of this article, this lineup was not my usual favorites, nor artists that I play on my radio shows. But in person and on stage, it is quite obvious why Sean Paul and Shaggy have hit the massive mainstream audiences in a big way: they are GOOD!

Yep, Shaggy's GOOD! Here he was, tired from flying 37 hours after touring Africa and yet no fatigue showed in his performance as he teased and playfully courted every lady in the arena. He danced, strutted, crooned and cajoled us with song after song. With Rayvon and the other two singers backed by a great band, it all added to an entertaining performance, fully explaining how Shaggy has hit the big time! What a show of strong young men, confident and on top of their game!

I had stayed until the very end of the show, hyped by Shaggy's energy but now walking back to the hotel I realized I would not make it to the after-festival festivities planned in various hotel rooms and one tour bus. All around me friends were excitedly talking about tomorrow's show in San Diego that would carry forward the good vibes that budded here in Long Beach. Last year I had traveled in that exodus, to see Midnite, but this year I would miss the encore performance in San Diego.

Also crammed into my wild weekend was waiting for Buju to show up at a party at the hotel; helping a famous artist get past the hotel's Babylon system; and consoling a friend dumped by a groupie that had slept herself higher up the fame scale. I looked at lots of kids' pictures, met Kevin, the Twinkle Brothers' Ralston Grant's son, plus Sister Carol's daughters, and Carol Bruno's granddaughter. I heard why Gregory Isaacs couldn't get into the country last fall, but can now. Over and over I heard that one common thread that ran through all performances and most conversations, and that was the call to political activism for one and all to heed--as soon as possible! I was thankful that Barbara had changed my plans and given me an early festival job so that I could enjoy all the new music that I had experienced. I think that might have been her plan all along!

Monday morning I looked out the hotel window. Sixteen floors below were five or six people, possibly spill-over from a room-party the night before, sleeping on the cement park bench by the lake, clutching hotel blankets around them in the crisp cool morn.

What a weekend we all had!