Bob Marley and the Wailers

“One Love: Bob Marley and the Wailers at Studio One, 1964-1966”

(Heartbeat)

2 Stars



Though it’s been nearly 25 years since his death, Bob Marley remains the most recognizable icon of reggae music and Rastafarian culture in the US. It’s understandable that every bit of material from such a widely loved artist would be released at some point. Yet name recognition alone ensures that a Marley compilation will sell far better than any contemporary reggae release, even if today’s sound is more deserving.

Unfortunately, this is the case with “One Love: Bob Marley and the Wailers at Studio One,” a portrait of Marley before he had achieved his later iconic status or developed the musical chops that would earn it for him.

Heartbeat Records’ new collection captures Marley with the original Wailers—Peter Tosh, Bunny Wailer, and for a time, Junior Braithwaite and Beverly Kelso—from 1964 to ’66. But don’t blame the lineup for the lackluster material; instead, blame legendary Studio One owner and producer Clement Seymour Dodd, a.k.a. “Coxsone.”

Coxsone was part Elvis manager Colonel Tom Parker and part Motown Records proprietor Barry Gordy. He shared Parker’s view that music was more business than art, and he demanded the Wailers produce songs on demand. The group spent two years in a trailer behind Coxsone’s place of business, toking up and pumping out new material. If the lazy tone of the two-disc collection shows anything, it’s that they did both aplenty.

Coxsone then took Gordy’s lead and tried to convert Studio One into a “hit factory.” With Dodd’s guidance, the Wailers cultivated a fan following among urban Jamaica’s alternately-romanticized-and-reviled hoodlum “Rude Boys.” In the early years, though, sales led to artistic stagnation. The first disc-and-a-half of the chronologically-ordered “One Love” rarely deviates from its heavy 1-3 beat emphasis, its plodding quarter-note basslines, or its clumsily-executed, often out-of-pitch multi-part backing vocals. It’s 90 consecutive minutes of primordial ska, and it’s tiresome.

This isn’t for lack of talent. Marley’s tenor is both rich and youthfully light, perhaps more passionate and expressive than on his later work. “I’m Still Waiting” is one of his more charming vocal performances, mourning his unrequited love with quiet passion. “The Skatalites” support the group instrumentally with aplomb, even stepping into the fore with an occasional saxophone solo.

Rather, the monotony seems to be a management decision, made obvious in the plethora of outside influences the Wailers embrace. “Do You Remember,” “Habits,” and “Teenager in Love” are straight Doo-Wop. “Ska Jerk” consciously plagiarizes Junior Walker’s “Shotgun” and (less consciously) The Drifters’ “Stand By Me.” “Can’t You See,” as the liner notes euphemize, “demonstrates…the influence of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.”

For evidence that Marley that lacked freedom and not talent, look no further than the two versions of “Wages of Love.” On the acoustic rehearsal track, he offers an expressive, almost tearful dirge for lost love; on the commercial release, however, bland instrumentation and uninspired vocals turn the song into middle-of-the-road pop. Side-by-side, the recordings are almost an apology for such a bland sound.

The compilation’s charm—and it does have charm—comes not from its aesthetic, but from its history. One can just imagine, as described in the liner notes, frenzied Rude Boys holding up deejays for copies of Wailers records. Marley holds a prominent place in that vision, a wunderkind if not a prophet, unbelievably talented and waiting to reach his musical and political peak.

Fame and high art would come later. “One Love” is simply a testament to that promise, not its realization.

—Reviewer Nicholas K. Tabor can be reached at ntabor@fas.harvard.edu