Obituary: Don Taylor
Pierre Perrone
Tuesday, 16 November 1999
NOW HAILED as one of the icons of the 20th century and the first world music superstar, the Jamaican singer Bob Marley, who died in 1981, was supported in his endeavours by a huge entourage. At its centre from 1974 to 1979 was his manager Don Taylor.
Sometimes compared to the boxing promoter Don King or Elvis Presley's manager "Colonel" Tom Parker, Taylor was a shrewd entrepreneur who learned his trade with various American rhythm'n'blues acts in the Sixties before helping Marley fulfil his international potential in the Seventies. Taylor subsequently fell out with the singer and became embroiled in legal disputes over the Marley estate.
He wrote an autobiography, So Much Things To Say: my life as Bob Marley's manager, published in 1994. The self-aggrandising title, never mind the suspect chronology and grand claims the book sometimes makes, gives a measure of this larger-than-life figure who travelled from the ghettos of Jamaica to a life of luxury in Miami, Florida.
Taylor was born in Kingston in 1943; his mother, Cynthia Llewellyn, was just 13 years old at the time of his birth, worked as a maid and lived with a black Jamaican called Taylor. However, Don was actually the son of Vernal Kidd, a white British soldier. Disowned by both parents, the young Don grew up hustling cruise- liner passengers in the downtown area of Kingston. Already, he was cutting deals with bar owners, selling American cigarettes or washing cars.
Meeting the American singer Lloyd Price gave Taylor the idea of setting up a valet service for other visiting performers such as Fats Domino, Ben E. King and Jackie Wilson. Impressed by Taylor, Wilson bought him a plane ticket to Miami in 1960. While there, he met Jerry Butler and ended up in New York, working for Little Anthony and the Imperials.
By 1965, Taylor had managed to convince the US military that his father was American; he was drafted for two years, giving him legal resident status. Following his discharge in 1967, he rose from road manager to looking after the affairs of Little Anthony and the Imperials. The vocal group were on the way down after hits such as "Tears on My Pillow" and "Goin' Out of My Head" but Taylor kept them working in Las Vegas and learned to operate in a "charged environment" which was under mafia influence. He also took the Motown artist Martha Reeves under his wing.
Asked by the Jamaican prime minister Michael Manley to organise a benefit concert for the Trench Town Sports Complex, Taylor suggested Marvin Gaye as the headline act, while a local promoter, Stephen Hill, added Bob Marley to the bill. During negotiations over the concert in 1973, Marley was puzzled by Taylor's appearance and business acumen. "You really is a Jamaican? How you learn the business so?" he asked.
The pair kept in touch. The following year, realising there was a buzz around Marley's group, the Wailers (Eric Clapton's version of "I Shot the Sheriff" had just become a hit) and hearing that the group had left their manager Danny Sims, Taylor travelled to Kingston, walked to Marley's house at 56 Hope Road, woke him up and offered the singer his services. The pair shook hands and, although they didn't even draft an agreement for another two years, Taylor convinced Marley to go on the road to promote the Natty Dread album.
After a successful tour of Canada and the United States, Taylor renegotiated Marley's deal with the Island Records boss Chris Blackwell for $1m, just as the seminal album Live! and the single "No Woman No Cry" were racing up the charts in 1975. Setting up a company in the British Virgin Island of Tortola to avoid UK and US taxes, Taylor also extricated Marley from his publishing deal with Danny Sims.
In late 1976, Marley decided to play a free show for his countrymen and Taylor suggested the grounds of Jamaica House. However, Michael Manley hijacked what was supposed to be a non-political event and called for elections to be held soon after the Smile Jamaica concert.
On 3 December, two days before Marley was due to play the concert, seven gunmen burst into his home in Kingston and shot him, his wife Rita, Lewis Griffith, a family friend and Don Taylor. Taylor was critically injured in the assassination attempt, but, by standing in front of Marley, arguably saved the singer's life. "I heard Bob say: they shoot up Don Taylor, Don Taylor dead or something," recalled Taylor, who lost a great deal of blood and was nearly pronounced dead on arrival at the local hospital, until a doctor examined him more closely. He was subsequently flown to Miami, where a bullet was removed from his spine.
Marley went ahead with the concert but then spent 18 months away from Jamaica, recording much of Exodus and Kaya in Britain. He eventually returned in 1978 for the One Love Peace concert during which he clasped both the hands of Manley and leader of the opposition Edward Seaga in a forced show of unity.
In 1979, Taylor bought Jimmy Cliff's publishing rights for $40,000 and set about rebuilding Cliff's career, which had been on the skids since the early Seventies. However, when negotiating separate advances for concerts by Cliff and Marley in Gabon, the manager was accused by Marley of "creative accounting" and dismissed. Taylor claimed that Marley later forced him to cancel their management agreement at the point of a gun. In 1980, Marley wrote "Bad Card" as a thinly veiled attack on Taylor for the album Uprising. By then, Marley had been diagnosed with cancer and he died in 1981 in Miami.
Taylor took care of the funeral arrangements in Jamaica but Marley's death hit him hard and he began using cocaine. He was also trying to sort out the singer's estate but, in the absence of a will, the dispute between various parties (Rita Marley, Danny Sims, Cedella Booker - Marley's mother - and so on) rumbled on until 1989 when Chris Blackwell bought the publishing rights to Marley's songs for $12m. In 1983, Taylor convinced EMI America to sign the Melody Makers featuring Ziggy Marley (Bob's son).
Taylor claims he was later targeted by the mafia but used his connections to call off the hitmen. Over the years, he also worked with Burning Spear, Gregory Isaacs, Prince, Soul II Soul, and the producers Baby Face and L.A. Reid. Tall, sharply dressed, charismatic, and nicknamed "Jaws" by those who disliked him, Taylor was fond of bragging to interviewers: "I made Bob Marley a millionaire! I'm a wealthy man. I don't have to work."
"Don Taylor, you know what I like about you is you no lickey lickey," was the nicest compliment Marley paid the manager who made him a multi- million-selling artist.
Donald Delroy Taylor, manager and promoter: born Kingston, Jamaica 10 February 1943; three times married (four sons, one daughter, and one son deceased); died Miami, Florida 1 November 1999.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Thursday, May 21, 2009
CHRIS BLACKWELL INTERVIEW: ISLAND RECORDS
Chris Blackwell interview: Island Records
British pop's greatest surviving mogul is in London to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of his brainchild, Island Records.
By Andrew Perry
Last Updated: 6:28PM BST 20 May 2009
Dickie Jobson, Countryman and Chris Blackwell in Jamaica, 1982 Photo: ISLAND TRADING ARCHIVE
As Chris Blackwell arrives at his London offices, six large cases of limes are stacked up in the hallway. For the past two decades, Blackwell has been based in his native Jamaica, where he runs several of the world's most beautiful elite hotels. In the thirty years before that, he masterminded Island Records, one of Britain's great independent labels, which gave the world Bob Marley and U2.
Island, and Blackwell himself, were always renowned for a laidback, nurturing style, which endured at the label, long after he sold up in 1989. Casually dressed in faded denims, Blackwell, now 72, is in town for his brainchild's fiftieth anniversary celebrations. Preceding a run of gigs showcasing some Island legends, there is to be a major party in London, which will acquire a fitting Caribbean flavour thanks to the hundred cases of Blackwell rum, shipped over especially – hence all the limes. British pop's greatest surviving mogul is in an unusually reflective mood.
Related Articles
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Island Records: how they became an artists' paradise
Just cause for jubilationAP: Although you're no longer involved on a practical level, does Island's 50th birthday mean a lot to you?
CB: I never look back. I don't even have a copy of most of the records we made, but it feels great, it really does. I've seen so many companies that I've really admired drop out of sight, like Stax, and Duke-Peacock, and King. A lot of them get sold to majors, and they tend to drop them off. Fortunately, they decided to keep Island and I hope they continue to do so. Part of the reason I'm keen to get involved now is that I'd love to see it stand the test of time.
AP: Why do you think it has, thus far?
CB: It's probably because two of our artists became so big. Bob Marley and U2, are probably in the Top 10 artists of all time, plus we had Cat Stevens, who actually sold the most records. Maybe it's because we've had a lot of varied music on Island, too.
AP: When you started out in the late 1950's, pop wasn't the kind of thing you'd be celebrating in fifty years' time. It was seen as ephemeral. Was it frowned upon as a career?
CB: It wasn't considered a serious business, more a quasi-outlawish business, sort of like the gambling business might be seen today, or a bookmakers. It was a similar world, full of characters, and semi-misfits, of which I was definitely one. It certainly wasn't a thing that people had serious careers with. It was right at the start of something, which is always exciting, because you're feeling your way.
AP: What kind of childhood did you have in Jamaica?
CB: When I was young, I didn't have a lot of contact with people, because I was sick a lot. Then I went to school in England [to Harrow]. I didn't do terribly well at school, so I came back at the age of 17. After that I did different things. I rented motor scooters. I had a little jazz club. I managed 63 jukeboxes in Jamaica, which meant I had to go all around the country to the jukeboxes, and change the records, and argue about the provision of threepeenny pieces with the owner of a bar in a little fishing village or up in hills. It was all great stuff to absorb – real life.
AP: You actually started the label in Jamaica, but, just before Independence in 1962, you went to London, where you pressed up ska hits from Jamaica to sell to England's new West Indian community.
CB: Yes, I made deals with my old competitors in Jamaica to release their records over here. I'd go down there every now and then, and listen to all their records, and pick the best ones. I always thought I had a good ear fot it. I was up against a label called Blue Beat, and the music became known as bluebeat, so it was a bit like trying to sell vacuum cleaners against Hoover.
AP: Legend has it that your financial backing derived from the family business, Crosse & Blackwell, purveyors of jarred foods and relishes. Is that true?
CB: I'm distantly related to Crosse & Blackwell, in that my father was the son of one of the ten or more children of the younger brother of the person, who started the company. Very little trickled down to him, and zero trickled down to me. I had an allowance of £2,000 a year from my mother, which was not bad at all. It allowed me to have an apartment, to get by and build on what little I was earning.
AP: And you would deliver your early 45s around the country in your Mini Clubman.
CB: It was a Mini Cooper, they didn't have the Mini Clubman yet. Boy, could that thing move fast. It was tiny, and I could whisk around the periphery of Central London, where all the Jamaicans lived. It was great fun. There was a guy, Nat Fox, who had a stall in Dalston market – he was a rough character. I remember inviting him in to play some new music in my office. I had two hi-fi systems, one for buying, one for selling. My buying system never sounded so great, but the selling system sounded fantastic. I played him these records on my selling system, and he bought the lot, then when he got them back to his stall, he didn't sell them quite as quick as he thought.
AP: Your first big hit was with 'My Boy Lollipop', which you recorded yourself in Britain with Millie Small.
CB: I didn't put it on Island because I knew it was going to be so big. Independent labels in those days couldn't handle hits, because you couldn't pay the pressing plant in time to supply the demand, so I licensed it to Fontana, which was part of Phillips. It was a big hit all around the world, and I really wanted to look after her, so I went everywhere with her, which took me into the mainstream of the record industry. I was lucky enough to see Stevie Winwood with the Spencer Davis Group, at a TV show in Birmingham. So then I started to spend more time in that area. This whole new music was emerging. It wasn't really pop, it was anti-pop. In pop, everybody dressed in uniforms. In rock, everybody would go onstage in clothes they'd been sleeping in for three days. It was much looser, and it fit with my jazz sensibility because it was musicianship, rather than a pretty face.
AP: You sold prog-rock by marketing it imaginatively via albums, which were often packaged in beautiful gatefold sleeves. As the new coffee-table book about Island's history, Keep On Running, really shows, your products were always lovingly designed. Was that your idea?
CB: I really believe that if people see something that looks good, subconsciously they'll think maybe there's something going on inside, on the record. There were times when somebody came out with a cover which was actually better than the record itself, so I'd have to send them back to remake the record. Melissa Etheridge was one. The sleeve for 'Catch A Fire', Bob Marley's first album, was fantastic – it was a Zippo lighter, which opened.
AP: You famously overdubbed white session musicians onto Catch A Fire, in order to make Marley more palatable to white rock audiences. Was Bob au fait with that?
CB: He trusted my instincts, which were that he should go after being a rock star, rather than a star on black American radio. His music was rough and raw and exciting, but all black American music at the time, other than James Brown, was very slick and smooth. Bob trusted me on that, he was as keen as I was. He was with me in the studio when we did all the overdubs. After that, it was just a matter of getting people to see him perform, and word of mouth did the rest.
AP: Through Marley's eyes, you must've been ineradicably connected to the old order, the British Empire, while he was a ghetto roughian, a revolutionary. How well did you work together?
CB: It was as good a working relationship as I've ever had with anyone. I respected him from Day One. He never told me anything which he didn't do, and vice versa. We never had any misunderstandings. But I never hung out with him. He was his own guy, he had his own life, it wasn't that kind of thing.
He was tough if he had to be, but he never gave off a tough air. He gave off a very shy and quiet image. He absolutely had an aura about him. I never saw him leading his band by toughness, I saw him leading them by example. If the bus was going on somewhere, he'd be the first person on the bus. Normally the star turns up at the end, cracks a few jokes and climbs on, but he'd be the first one there.
AP: In many ways, pop in the 1980s became the antithesis of the rootsy music, which Island had always represented. How did you find your niche, post-Marley?
CB: Bob died on 11 May 1981, and Cat Stevens retired on the 12th, when Bob's death was reported around the world, so that was a dark day for us. But we had got a name, so we were in the game, as it were, and U2 became the group that carried the flag for Island.
AP: You've said that U2 weren't initially exactly to your taste – what did you see in them?
CB: My roots were more in jazz, and musicianship. When I first saw them, they were nothing like as accomplished as they are now, but they absolutely had something where you just knew that they were going to be great. They also had somebody who was what I call a very serious adult, as their manager [Paul McGuinness]. You don't see a lot of adults in the record business, including myself. All the labels turned them down. The most spectacular was CBS, who said, "Well, if you fire the drummer, we'd probably sign them." But at that stage, the drummer [Larry Mullen] happened to be the leader of the band.
AP: Did you have as much imput with them, as you'd had with Bob?
CB: Very little. I had some input, and I was overridden. Even though I love Brian Eno, and his work, I didn't think he was the right producer for them at the time they first wanted to use him [for 1984's 'The Unforgettable Fire']. They'd got this cult status, but I felt it was the time where they just needed that hit record. I had Jimmy Iovine [Bruce Springsteen's producer] lined up to produce them, but they wanted to go with Eno. So I went to have a meeting with them in Ireland, and I was all ready to say, "Now come on, this is how it's going to be," but they really talked me out of it. They said, we want Brian Eno for his intelligence, which was a great way of explaining that they didn't want Jimmy Iovine.
AP: You must be relieved to be out of music, looking at all today's problems with digital piracy and so forth. Can you see a way forward?
CB: It will just go back to how it was in the '30s, '40s and early '50s: Count Basie would want to have a hit, because then he'd make $1,000 more a night in concert. The hit was really the advertising for personal appearances. Certainly in the forseeable future, that's basically how it's going to be. If someone writes a song which is successful, they'll still make money on it, it's just they might not sell twenty million records. Amy Winehouse sold eleven million records [on Island] – that's unbelievable, but ten years ago, it would've been 25 million.
AP: Which leaves the record companies where?
CB: It leaves the major record companies where they are now. They have the catalogue of the last 100 years of music. That's incredibly precious, and valuable. But I think new artists and new talent, and new characters like myself, will thrive in that kind of business. They can build up their own company, which is based on touring, so you bring the new act out with you. That's exactly how it was in the early days.
British pop's greatest surviving mogul is in London to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of his brainchild, Island Records.
By Andrew Perry
Last Updated: 6:28PM BST 20 May 2009
Dickie Jobson, Countryman and Chris Blackwell in Jamaica, 1982 Photo: ISLAND TRADING ARCHIVE
As Chris Blackwell arrives at his London offices, six large cases of limes are stacked up in the hallway. For the past two decades, Blackwell has been based in his native Jamaica, where he runs several of the world's most beautiful elite hotels. In the thirty years before that, he masterminded Island Records, one of Britain's great independent labels, which gave the world Bob Marley and U2.
Island, and Blackwell himself, were always renowned for a laidback, nurturing style, which endured at the label, long after he sold up in 1989. Casually dressed in faded denims, Blackwell, now 72, is in town for his brainchild's fiftieth anniversary celebrations. Preceding a run of gigs showcasing some Island legends, there is to be a major party in London, which will acquire a fitting Caribbean flavour thanks to the hundred cases of Blackwell rum, shipped over especially – hence all the limes. British pop's greatest surviving mogul is in an unusually reflective mood.
Related Articles
Top five pop music events of 2009
Amy Winehouse, St Lucia Jazz Festival, review
Rob Partridge
Island Records: how they became an artists' paradise
Just cause for jubilationAP: Although you're no longer involved on a practical level, does Island's 50th birthday mean a lot to you?
CB: I never look back. I don't even have a copy of most of the records we made, but it feels great, it really does. I've seen so many companies that I've really admired drop out of sight, like Stax, and Duke-Peacock, and King. A lot of them get sold to majors, and they tend to drop them off. Fortunately, they decided to keep Island and I hope they continue to do so. Part of the reason I'm keen to get involved now is that I'd love to see it stand the test of time.
AP: Why do you think it has, thus far?
CB: It's probably because two of our artists became so big. Bob Marley and U2, are probably in the Top 10 artists of all time, plus we had Cat Stevens, who actually sold the most records. Maybe it's because we've had a lot of varied music on Island, too.
AP: When you started out in the late 1950's, pop wasn't the kind of thing you'd be celebrating in fifty years' time. It was seen as ephemeral. Was it frowned upon as a career?
CB: It wasn't considered a serious business, more a quasi-outlawish business, sort of like the gambling business might be seen today, or a bookmakers. It was a similar world, full of characters, and semi-misfits, of which I was definitely one. It certainly wasn't a thing that people had serious careers with. It was right at the start of something, which is always exciting, because you're feeling your way.
AP: What kind of childhood did you have in Jamaica?
CB: When I was young, I didn't have a lot of contact with people, because I was sick a lot. Then I went to school in England [to Harrow]. I didn't do terribly well at school, so I came back at the age of 17. After that I did different things. I rented motor scooters. I had a little jazz club. I managed 63 jukeboxes in Jamaica, which meant I had to go all around the country to the jukeboxes, and change the records, and argue about the provision of threepeenny pieces with the owner of a bar in a little fishing village or up in hills. It was all great stuff to absorb – real life.
AP: You actually started the label in Jamaica, but, just before Independence in 1962, you went to London, where you pressed up ska hits from Jamaica to sell to England's new West Indian community.
CB: Yes, I made deals with my old competitors in Jamaica to release their records over here. I'd go down there every now and then, and listen to all their records, and pick the best ones. I always thought I had a good ear fot it. I was up against a label called Blue Beat, and the music became known as bluebeat, so it was a bit like trying to sell vacuum cleaners against Hoover.
AP: Legend has it that your financial backing derived from the family business, Crosse & Blackwell, purveyors of jarred foods and relishes. Is that true?
CB: I'm distantly related to Crosse & Blackwell, in that my father was the son of one of the ten or more children of the younger brother of the person, who started the company. Very little trickled down to him, and zero trickled down to me. I had an allowance of £2,000 a year from my mother, which was not bad at all. It allowed me to have an apartment, to get by and build on what little I was earning.
AP: And you would deliver your early 45s around the country in your Mini Clubman.
CB: It was a Mini Cooper, they didn't have the Mini Clubman yet. Boy, could that thing move fast. It was tiny, and I could whisk around the periphery of Central London, where all the Jamaicans lived. It was great fun. There was a guy, Nat Fox, who had a stall in Dalston market – he was a rough character. I remember inviting him in to play some new music in my office. I had two hi-fi systems, one for buying, one for selling. My buying system never sounded so great, but the selling system sounded fantastic. I played him these records on my selling system, and he bought the lot, then when he got them back to his stall, he didn't sell them quite as quick as he thought.
AP: Your first big hit was with 'My Boy Lollipop', which you recorded yourself in Britain with Millie Small.
CB: I didn't put it on Island because I knew it was going to be so big. Independent labels in those days couldn't handle hits, because you couldn't pay the pressing plant in time to supply the demand, so I licensed it to Fontana, which was part of Phillips. It was a big hit all around the world, and I really wanted to look after her, so I went everywhere with her, which took me into the mainstream of the record industry. I was lucky enough to see Stevie Winwood with the Spencer Davis Group, at a TV show in Birmingham. So then I started to spend more time in that area. This whole new music was emerging. It wasn't really pop, it was anti-pop. In pop, everybody dressed in uniforms. In rock, everybody would go onstage in clothes they'd been sleeping in for three days. It was much looser, and it fit with my jazz sensibility because it was musicianship, rather than a pretty face.
AP: You sold prog-rock by marketing it imaginatively via albums, which were often packaged in beautiful gatefold sleeves. As the new coffee-table book about Island's history, Keep On Running, really shows, your products were always lovingly designed. Was that your idea?
CB: I really believe that if people see something that looks good, subconsciously they'll think maybe there's something going on inside, on the record. There were times when somebody came out with a cover which was actually better than the record itself, so I'd have to send them back to remake the record. Melissa Etheridge was one. The sleeve for 'Catch A Fire', Bob Marley's first album, was fantastic – it was a Zippo lighter, which opened.
AP: You famously overdubbed white session musicians onto Catch A Fire, in order to make Marley more palatable to white rock audiences. Was Bob au fait with that?
CB: He trusted my instincts, which were that he should go after being a rock star, rather than a star on black American radio. His music was rough and raw and exciting, but all black American music at the time, other than James Brown, was very slick and smooth. Bob trusted me on that, he was as keen as I was. He was with me in the studio when we did all the overdubs. After that, it was just a matter of getting people to see him perform, and word of mouth did the rest.
AP: Through Marley's eyes, you must've been ineradicably connected to the old order, the British Empire, while he was a ghetto roughian, a revolutionary. How well did you work together?
CB: It was as good a working relationship as I've ever had with anyone. I respected him from Day One. He never told me anything which he didn't do, and vice versa. We never had any misunderstandings. But I never hung out with him. He was his own guy, he had his own life, it wasn't that kind of thing.
He was tough if he had to be, but he never gave off a tough air. He gave off a very shy and quiet image. He absolutely had an aura about him. I never saw him leading his band by toughness, I saw him leading them by example. If the bus was going on somewhere, he'd be the first person on the bus. Normally the star turns up at the end, cracks a few jokes and climbs on, but he'd be the first one there.
AP: In many ways, pop in the 1980s became the antithesis of the rootsy music, which Island had always represented. How did you find your niche, post-Marley?
CB: Bob died on 11 May 1981, and Cat Stevens retired on the 12th, when Bob's death was reported around the world, so that was a dark day for us. But we had got a name, so we were in the game, as it were, and U2 became the group that carried the flag for Island.
AP: You've said that U2 weren't initially exactly to your taste – what did you see in them?
CB: My roots were more in jazz, and musicianship. When I first saw them, they were nothing like as accomplished as they are now, but they absolutely had something where you just knew that they were going to be great. They also had somebody who was what I call a very serious adult, as their manager [Paul McGuinness]. You don't see a lot of adults in the record business, including myself. All the labels turned them down. The most spectacular was CBS, who said, "Well, if you fire the drummer, we'd probably sign them." But at that stage, the drummer [Larry Mullen] happened to be the leader of the band.
AP: Did you have as much imput with them, as you'd had with Bob?
CB: Very little. I had some input, and I was overridden. Even though I love Brian Eno, and his work, I didn't think he was the right producer for them at the time they first wanted to use him [for 1984's 'The Unforgettable Fire']. They'd got this cult status, but I felt it was the time where they just needed that hit record. I had Jimmy Iovine [Bruce Springsteen's producer] lined up to produce them, but they wanted to go with Eno. So I went to have a meeting with them in Ireland, and I was all ready to say, "Now come on, this is how it's going to be," but they really talked me out of it. They said, we want Brian Eno for his intelligence, which was a great way of explaining that they didn't want Jimmy Iovine.
AP: You must be relieved to be out of music, looking at all today's problems with digital piracy and so forth. Can you see a way forward?
CB: It will just go back to how it was in the '30s, '40s and early '50s: Count Basie would want to have a hit, because then he'd make $1,000 more a night in concert. The hit was really the advertising for personal appearances. Certainly in the forseeable future, that's basically how it's going to be. If someone writes a song which is successful, they'll still make money on it, it's just they might not sell twenty million records. Amy Winehouse sold eleven million records [on Island] – that's unbelievable, but ten years ago, it would've been 25 million.
AP: Which leaves the record companies where?
CB: It leaves the major record companies where they are now. They have the catalogue of the last 100 years of music. That's incredibly precious, and valuable. But I think new artists and new talent, and new characters like myself, will thrive in that kind of business. They can build up their own company, which is based on touring, so you bring the new act out with you. That's exactly how it was in the early days.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
THOUGHTS ON ALLEVIATING POVERTY
Film | February 24, 2009 - 10:09pm
Filmmaker Exposes Poverty, but Gives Vague Solutions
by Victoria Fox
“We are going toward a major explosion,” Philippe Diaz warns, “unless we change something drastically.”
In a phone interview about his film The End of Poverty?, currently playing at the Best of the African Diaspora Film Festival, writer-director Diaz was adamant that unchecked poverty plagues not only the developing world, but will also eventually crush the economies of developed nations. Diaz’s film takes a sweeping historical perspective to substantiate this claim, explaining poverty’s roots, current implications, and future effects.
To achieve its massive scope, the film relies principally on the testimonies of economists, scholars, and politicians, as well impoverished individuals in Africa and Latin America. Diaz’s film was a logical addition to the festival, which strives to highlight films that are not only conscious of African diaspora themes, but also risk being overlooked in conventional film circles.
Though relevant to the current economic landscape, Diaz encountered difficulty bringing his film to screen. “They tried for a long time to do a movie on the true historical and political causes [of poverty], but of course in Hollywood, no one is interested in doing that,” Diaz said. It was only through his own production company, Cinema Libre, that Diaz finally brought his film to fruition.
To explain poverty today, Diaz turns to the history of colonial exploitation and violence against resource-rich regions, beginning in 1492. “I was trying to explain that poverty is not something which happened recently,” he said.
Despite the end of mass colonialism, Diaz argues that nothing substantial has been done to reverse the patterns of exploitation that began centuries ago.
“The more we consume the more we have to plunge people into poverty to [maintain] balance,” Diaz remarked. He claims little has changed in 500 years, as developed nations are still dependent on cheap natural resources to dominate economically. Violent conquest has simply given way to a subtler neo-imperialism. While developing nations have independent governments, they are still subjugated by unfair treaties and insurmountable debt.
Though the film is detailed in its assessment of the historical causes and effects of poverty, it becomes disturbingly abstract when it begins to search for a solution. “We have to change the system,” Diaz stated. “These natural resources come from nature and therefore should be benefiting everybody, not just a few people or corporations.”
General as the solution “change the system” may seem, Diaz argues that it is necessary for developed nations to find tangible ways to overhaul their economic practices. Since resources are currently being consumed faster than the earth can replenish them, Diaz urges developed nations to act now, if not to aid the impoverished out of philanthropy, then to simply avoid their own economic collapse due over-consumption.
“You can’t dig a hole for generations and hope that one day you won’t fall in it,” he cautioned. “You can find tricks and play games to make it sound like it still works, but one moment it will not work anymore.”
The End of Poverty? is playing at 6:20 p.m. on Wednesday at the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Rose Cinemas (30 Lafayette Street at Duane Street).
Filmmaker Exposes Poverty, but Gives Vague Solutions
by Victoria Fox
“We are going toward a major explosion,” Philippe Diaz warns, “unless we change something drastically.”
In a phone interview about his film The End of Poverty?, currently playing at the Best of the African Diaspora Film Festival, writer-director Diaz was adamant that unchecked poverty plagues not only the developing world, but will also eventually crush the economies of developed nations. Diaz’s film takes a sweeping historical perspective to substantiate this claim, explaining poverty’s roots, current implications, and future effects.
To achieve its massive scope, the film relies principally on the testimonies of economists, scholars, and politicians, as well impoverished individuals in Africa and Latin America. Diaz’s film was a logical addition to the festival, which strives to highlight films that are not only conscious of African diaspora themes, but also risk being overlooked in conventional film circles.
Though relevant to the current economic landscape, Diaz encountered difficulty bringing his film to screen. “They tried for a long time to do a movie on the true historical and political causes [of poverty], but of course in Hollywood, no one is interested in doing that,” Diaz said. It was only through his own production company, Cinema Libre, that Diaz finally brought his film to fruition.
To explain poverty today, Diaz turns to the history of colonial exploitation and violence against resource-rich regions, beginning in 1492. “I was trying to explain that poverty is not something which happened recently,” he said.
Despite the end of mass colonialism, Diaz argues that nothing substantial has been done to reverse the patterns of exploitation that began centuries ago.
“The more we consume the more we have to plunge people into poverty to [maintain] balance,” Diaz remarked. He claims little has changed in 500 years, as developed nations are still dependent on cheap natural resources to dominate economically. Violent conquest has simply given way to a subtler neo-imperialism. While developing nations have independent governments, they are still subjugated by unfair treaties and insurmountable debt.
Though the film is detailed in its assessment of the historical causes and effects of poverty, it becomes disturbingly abstract when it begins to search for a solution. “We have to change the system,” Diaz stated. “These natural resources come from nature and therefore should be benefiting everybody, not just a few people or corporations.”
General as the solution “change the system” may seem, Diaz argues that it is necessary for developed nations to find tangible ways to overhaul their economic practices. Since resources are currently being consumed faster than the earth can replenish them, Diaz urges developed nations to act now, if not to aid the impoverished out of philanthropy, then to simply avoid their own economic collapse due over-consumption.
“You can’t dig a hole for generations and hope that one day you won’t fall in it,” he cautioned. “You can find tricks and play games to make it sound like it still works, but one moment it will not work anymore.”
The End of Poverty? is playing at 6:20 p.m. on Wednesday at the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Rose Cinemas (30 Lafayette Street at Duane Street).
JAMAICAN MUSIC
Jamaican Music More than Marley in Movie
by Jacklyn Katz
Made in Jamaica is the kind of film that will make you want to dance and sway to the music.
A fusion of documentary and music video, the film will play Thursday night as part of the Best of the African Diaspora Film Festival. Beyond the soulful reggae music of Bob Marley, this film aims to highlight the struggles and the triumphs of Jamaica’s most notorious artists.
Director Jérôme Laperrousaz uses news footage, interviews, and performances to discuss the evolution of music and the music industry in Jamaica. As Laperrousaz sees it, the explosion of music in this country veils its citizens’ pain, heartache, and desire to succeed and survive. The film begins with the death of Bogle (Gerald Levy), a Jamaican dancehall performer. The violence and the strife surrounding these artists have served as inspiration for their emotional and explicit music as the film moves through its performers.
Third World, Gregory Isaacs, Lady Saw, Elephant Man, and Bounty Killer are just a few of the many artists included in this film who exemplify the diverse musical styles cultivated in Jamaica. For the most part, Laperrousaz is able to showcase each individual’s talents while demonstrating that each singer or musician is a part of a collective whole. But with the introduction of dancehall music, it is apparent that younger artists are using the foundations of reggae music to make their own way in the music world—the music is faster, louder, and at times raunchier than traditional reggae.
Laperrousaz introduces each artist in the film with a performance that is either from a concert or staged for the documentary. These staged performances add a unique dimension—they have an almost music-video quality—to sections of the film. But there are times when the filming of these mini music videos slows down the pace of the film—whether this is intentional or not is not always clear.
The construction of the film aside, it is incredible how much information is incorporated into this film. The film is not only a documentary about music and the history and transformation of reggae music, but also about the Jamaican people—their past, present, and future. Made in Jamaica is a raw and uncensored exploration of the Jamaican music scene. For those who aren’t familiar with reggae or dancehall music, the film certainly provides a crash course.
Made in Jamaica will play at 9:30 p.m. on Thursday night at the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Rose Cinema (30 Lafayette St. at Duane Street). Tickets cost $8 for students.
by Jacklyn Katz
Made in Jamaica is the kind of film that will make you want to dance and sway to the music.
A fusion of documentary and music video, the film will play Thursday night as part of the Best of the African Diaspora Film Festival. Beyond the soulful reggae music of Bob Marley, this film aims to highlight the struggles and the triumphs of Jamaica’s most notorious artists.
Director Jérôme Laperrousaz uses news footage, interviews, and performances to discuss the evolution of music and the music industry in Jamaica. As Laperrousaz sees it, the explosion of music in this country veils its citizens’ pain, heartache, and desire to succeed and survive. The film begins with the death of Bogle (Gerald Levy), a Jamaican dancehall performer. The violence and the strife surrounding these artists have served as inspiration for their emotional and explicit music as the film moves through its performers.
Third World, Gregory Isaacs, Lady Saw, Elephant Man, and Bounty Killer are just a few of the many artists included in this film who exemplify the diverse musical styles cultivated in Jamaica. For the most part, Laperrousaz is able to showcase each individual’s talents while demonstrating that each singer or musician is a part of a collective whole. But with the introduction of dancehall music, it is apparent that younger artists are using the foundations of reggae music to make their own way in the music world—the music is faster, louder, and at times raunchier than traditional reggae.
Laperrousaz introduces each artist in the film with a performance that is either from a concert or staged for the documentary. These staged performances add a unique dimension—they have an almost music-video quality—to sections of the film. But there are times when the filming of these mini music videos slows down the pace of the film—whether this is intentional or not is not always clear.
The construction of the film aside, it is incredible how much information is incorporated into this film. The film is not only a documentary about music and the history and transformation of reggae music, but also about the Jamaican people—their past, present, and future. Made in Jamaica is a raw and uncensored exploration of the Jamaican music scene. For those who aren’t familiar with reggae or dancehall music, the film certainly provides a crash course.
Made in Jamaica will play at 9:30 p.m. on Thursday night at the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Rose Cinema (30 Lafayette St. at Duane Street). Tickets cost $8 for students.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
SpringlineJamaica: Theo Beckford - Profile
SpringlineJamaica
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Theo Beckford - Profile
Theophilus Beckford was born in 1935, in Trench Town Kingston, Jamaica. His musical talents can most probably be attributed to his father, who played in the Jamaican Military Band, and the fact that he had access to the family piano. His family noticed his talent but still forced him to learn music first at Kingston's Boys Town School and then with two private tutors. By the 1955 he purchased his own piano, and played on calypso songs, aimed primarily at tourists, for Count Lasher and Lord Flea, with Jewish-Jamaican entrepreneur and proprietor of a downtown photographic supply shop Stanley Motta producing. The dominant music in Jamaica during the 50's was American rhythm and blues, and most local artists copied the sounds of New Orleans. Beckford has cited the Memphis jump-blues piano playing of Rosco Gordon as particularly influential on his style, with Fats Domino another major inspiration; he was also fond of singers Lloyd Price and Patti Page. In late 1956, Beckford started to develop a style that drew from R&B, but had a noticeably different rhythmic structure; instead of the fore-beat emphasis of boogie woogie, he used piano chords to emphasise the after-beat, the second and fourth beats of every measure rather than the first and third. 1956 also saw Beckford working with Clement "Sir Coxsone" Dodd. They were often spending long hours in the studio rehearsing and experimenting with this new rhythm. Eventually they produced 'Easy Snapping', which was recorded with the help of Clue J and the Blues Blasters. Dodd initially retained the song on acetate as a dub-plate for his Downbeat sound system, and it proved to be highly popular among the lawn dance crowd. Despite Beckford's pleas to release the record to the public, Coxsone held onto the tune for the best part of 3 years, before finally releasing the single in 1959. The song became an instant hit, skyrocketing to number one and remaining on the charts for an unparalleled 18 months. Many argue that ska and consequently Jamaican music began with this song. While the more conservative would argue that it is somewhere between ska and American R&B, its influence however is indisputable.As is always the way with these stories, Beckford saw little substantial evidence of "Easy Snappin's" success. He received no royalties for either the song's initial Jamaican release, or its re-release on the English Blue Beat label. Despite this he continued to release more tracks for Dodd, including "Georgia and the Old Shoes," "Jack and Jill Shuffle," and "Tell Them, Little Lady," but in the early '60s he severed his ties with Downbeat, as immortalized on the song, "Mr. Downpressor."Beckford then recorded vocal tracks for King Edwards, Duke Reid, and Prince Buster, and provided piano backing for many popular ska acts. He still did not see the financial reward he felt he deserved and in 1963 he formed his own King Pioneer label. Now in total control of his music he released some of his own Jamaican folk material, as well as records by Basil Gabbidon, Lloyd Clarke, and the Tennors. Although his adaptation of the folksong 'Boller Man A Come' was popular, most King Pioneer material failed to become hits.As ska gave way to rocksteady, and then became reggae, Beckford continued to get regular work as a session musician. He recorded for Lee Perry, Bunny Lee, and for Leslie Kong as one of the Beverly's All Stars house band. He also backed such vocalists as Toots & the Maytals, Desmond Dekker, and Eric "Monty" Morris. Beckford also became a musical arranger for Duke Reid, Joe Gibbs, Bunny Lee, and Leslie Kong; and, in 1978, played himself in a cameo for the film Rockers.By the mid-'80s though the digital revolution was taking hold. The need for session musicians in the studio was virtually nonexistent, and though he continued to perform live, Beckford was now finding it hard to make ends meet. By the end of his life he felt he was only surviving "by the grace of God and the assistance of a few friends."In 1991 things looked like they might be on the turn as he participated in The Beat Goes On: 35 Years In The Business Shows by Studio One in Kingston's National Arena, though nothing in the end was forth coming. The following year must have been especially hard for him as his old hit "Easy Snappin'" was used in a 1992 European TV ads campaign, and yet once again he received no royalties.In 2000, he was honoured in the King Omar's annual Tribute to the Great show, however again he could not revel in this appreciation for long. On February 19, 2001, Beckford went to the Callaloo Mews section of Kingston to settle a dispute, and after an altercation with an unidentified man he was killed by a hatchet wound to the head. He was 65.This as with so many is a rather sad end to a man who gave so much to Jamaican music and was perhaps never really appreciated in the way he should have been, but whom without his experimentation with rhythm we may never of had the reggae sounds of today.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Theo Beckford - Profile
Theophilus Beckford was born in 1935, in Trench Town Kingston, Jamaica. His musical talents can most probably be attributed to his father, who played in the Jamaican Military Band, and the fact that he had access to the family piano. His family noticed his talent but still forced him to learn music first at Kingston's Boys Town School and then with two private tutors. By the 1955 he purchased his own piano, and played on calypso songs, aimed primarily at tourists, for Count Lasher and Lord Flea, with Jewish-Jamaican entrepreneur and proprietor of a downtown photographic supply shop Stanley Motta producing. The dominant music in Jamaica during the 50's was American rhythm and blues, and most local artists copied the sounds of New Orleans. Beckford has cited the Memphis jump-blues piano playing of Rosco Gordon as particularly influential on his style, with Fats Domino another major inspiration; he was also fond of singers Lloyd Price and Patti Page. In late 1956, Beckford started to develop a style that drew from R&B, but had a noticeably different rhythmic structure; instead of the fore-beat emphasis of boogie woogie, he used piano chords to emphasise the after-beat, the second and fourth beats of every measure rather than the first and third. 1956 also saw Beckford working with Clement "Sir Coxsone" Dodd. They were often spending long hours in the studio rehearsing and experimenting with this new rhythm. Eventually they produced 'Easy Snapping', which was recorded with the help of Clue J and the Blues Blasters. Dodd initially retained the song on acetate as a dub-plate for his Downbeat sound system, and it proved to be highly popular among the lawn dance crowd. Despite Beckford's pleas to release the record to the public, Coxsone held onto the tune for the best part of 3 years, before finally releasing the single in 1959. The song became an instant hit, skyrocketing to number one and remaining on the charts for an unparalleled 18 months. Many argue that ska and consequently Jamaican music began with this song. While the more conservative would argue that it is somewhere between ska and American R&B, its influence however is indisputable.As is always the way with these stories, Beckford saw little substantial evidence of "Easy Snappin's" success. He received no royalties for either the song's initial Jamaican release, or its re-release on the English Blue Beat label. Despite this he continued to release more tracks for Dodd, including "Georgia and the Old Shoes," "Jack and Jill Shuffle," and "Tell Them, Little Lady," but in the early '60s he severed his ties with Downbeat, as immortalized on the song, "Mr. Downpressor."Beckford then recorded vocal tracks for King Edwards, Duke Reid, and Prince Buster, and provided piano backing for many popular ska acts. He still did not see the financial reward he felt he deserved and in 1963 he formed his own King Pioneer label. Now in total control of his music he released some of his own Jamaican folk material, as well as records by Basil Gabbidon, Lloyd Clarke, and the Tennors. Although his adaptation of the folksong 'Boller Man A Come' was popular, most King Pioneer material failed to become hits.As ska gave way to rocksteady, and then became reggae, Beckford continued to get regular work as a session musician. He recorded for Lee Perry, Bunny Lee, and for Leslie Kong as one of the Beverly's All Stars house band. He also backed such vocalists as Toots & the Maytals, Desmond Dekker, and Eric "Monty" Morris. Beckford also became a musical arranger for Duke Reid, Joe Gibbs, Bunny Lee, and Leslie Kong; and, in 1978, played himself in a cameo for the film Rockers.By the mid-'80s though the digital revolution was taking hold. The need for session musicians in the studio was virtually nonexistent, and though he continued to perform live, Beckford was now finding it hard to make ends meet. By the end of his life he felt he was only surviving "by the grace of God and the assistance of a few friends."In 1991 things looked like they might be on the turn as he participated in The Beat Goes On: 35 Years In The Business Shows by Studio One in Kingston's National Arena, though nothing in the end was forth coming. The following year must have been especially hard for him as his old hit "Easy Snappin'" was used in a 1992 European TV ads campaign, and yet once again he received no royalties.In 2000, he was honoured in the King Omar's annual Tribute to the Great show, however again he could not revel in this appreciation for long. On February 19, 2001, Beckford went to the Callaloo Mews section of Kingston to settle a dispute, and after an altercation with an unidentified man he was killed by a hatchet wound to the head. He was 65.This as with so many is a rather sad end to a man who gave so much to Jamaican music and was perhaps never really appreciated in the way he should have been, but whom without his experimentation with rhythm we may never of had the reggae sounds of today.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Reggaefilms.co.uk: Dickie Jobson passed away....
http://reggaefilms.blogspot.com/2008/12/dickie-jobson-passed-away.html#comment-form
Dickie Jobson passed away....
Just had some very sad news and heard that Dickie Jobson passed away yesterday on Christmas Eve. He will be remembered by everyone who knew his work, and most will remember him for his great film 'Countryman', he was also preparing to start shooting Countryman 2 in 2009.
"The Jamaica Film Academy had honoured Dickie Jobson at the February 2008 staging of the first Reggae Film Festival and screened his 1970s feature film “Countryman” in one of its rare Jamaican showings. Dickie Jobson was a friend and business associate of film makers Perry Henzell and Chris Blackwell, so it was no surprise when he ventured into film production with the romantic drama “Countryman” – one of the early efforts to continue the progressive move to indigenous feature film production established by “The Harder They Come”. The “Countryman” story of two American tourists cast away on the Hellshire beach where real-life fisherman Countryman lives, and the adventures that follow as police pursue them as suspected drug exporters, was typical of the 70’s era when Jamaica was viewed simply as a tropical paradise with an interesting culture. It’s famous scene when Countryman cooks a several course Jamaican meal on an outdoor fire and the delight the visitors express as they taste each new food surprise, has become a classic.
Like most other Jamaican films of that era, the acclaim for the director’s achievement has only come in modern times, and financial success may never materialize. Dickie Jobson was therefore delighted to be honoured at the Reggae Film Festival earlier this year and to enjoy the company of his film making friends, including his cousin, film maker Wayne Jobson.
As part of the Island Jamaica film and music team, Dickie was associated with every film project of that prolific organization, and assisted many overseas film production companies to interact with Jamaica. The name of Dickie Jobson and his beautiful film “Countryman” will be forever memorialized in the Hall of Fame of the Jamaican film industry. On behalf of the Jamaica Film Academy, and as a personal friend, please allow me to extend honours on his passing."
(Text taken from an article written by Barbara Blake Hannah 25th Dec.2009)
Posted by Reggae Films UK at 5:32 PM
15 comments:
Ronnie Barakat said...
Farewell my friend, I will always remember your contribution to helping to establishing the career of the musician of the last century the great Bob Marley.Ronnie Barakat.
December 26, 2008 12:01 AM
MFW said...
I saw Dicko at 2 parties last week we danced , hung out and I just cant believe that you are no longer here with us... We shall all miss your sense of fun, endurance, intelligence, and this Bud's for you my friend.The definite end of an era.Nuff LoveMaxine
December 26, 2008 3:32 PM
dennis said...
I nominate Dickie for our next National Hero.Dennis R.
December 26, 2008 4:08 PM
Del said...
I am so saddened at the passing of Dickie, he still had so much more to give. May his soul rest in peace and may his memories live on.Del Crooks - Jamaica
December 26, 2008 8:38 PM
The Brownery said...
A sad goodbye to a gentleman, a quiet genius, and a lovely generous man - from Dickie's friends at Studio Eight Productions. We believed in the Countryman Two project and we so looking forward to realising Dickie's dream.
December 26, 2008 9:35 PM
GAFFA said...
Richard; Ah kno Puff waan bless yuh up....All LOVE Bloods. The Spirit Lives.
December 27, 2008 7:04 AM
Anonymous said...
My Dickie "ElFego Backa" man ahead of his time, Video Real Estate, first TV add for a real estate development in Jamaica, Cardif Hall. So many ideas we could have built on. Spoke to me on Monday 22nd .......if I only knew... Great Guy, good friend to all P & L Bro.David Guilfoyle.
December 27, 2008 10:05 PM
Anonymous said...
thanks so much for not only one of the greatest Reggae films of all time, but one of the greatest soundtracks.
December 27, 2008 10:51 PM
Anonymous said...
It was a sad day when we lost Dickie Jobson, an elegant gentleman in the truest sense, modest and humble, and a raconteur with a rapier wit. He was a doting father, a loving son, brother, cousin and friend. Dickie was generous, kind and compassionate and will be missed by all who were fortunate enough to know him. My condolences to the Jobson family.
December 28, 2008 11:42 PM
simochau said...
Dickie u just called me from Kingston to Hong Kong on the Christmas Eve 10am Yan Yan was glad to hear u but now u left us behind gone with the winds u told me u want to come visit china & making Countrymon II together chinese audience would love to see the Fastestmon on Earth & Greatest Hero Jamaican Countrymon as Dickie Jobson rest in peace 1love yanyan hk
December 29, 2008 11:50 AM
Sanwad said...
yea man, the reggae world will miss him.
January 02, 2009 10:39 PM
Reggae Films UK said...
http://www.unitedreggae.com/articles/n254/123108/remembering-dickie-jobson
January 03, 2009 9:44 AM
Danny Ennevor said...
Dicko.. I could not believe the news when Jimmy called. We had not seen you for some time but you always kept in touch. Was just joking the other day how when you were standing beside me as my best man 47 years ago waiting for the wedding to begin you whispered "It's not to late Dans the car keys are in my pocket"! We'll miss you Dicko.. God Bless.
January 11, 2009 4:22 PM
Anonymous said...
A kind wonderful man meet Dickie whilst visiting countryman 2007 Will be greatly missed but memories always remain God Bless you my friend susanna
January 28, 2009 3:53 PM
Anonymous said...
See the article below for info on Dickie's life...http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/obituaries/article5592961.ece
February 17, 2009 11:24 AM
Post a Comment
Dickie Jobson passed away....
Just had some very sad news and heard that Dickie Jobson passed away yesterday on Christmas Eve. He will be remembered by everyone who knew his work, and most will remember him for his great film 'Countryman', he was also preparing to start shooting Countryman 2 in 2009.
"The Jamaica Film Academy had honoured Dickie Jobson at the February 2008 staging of the first Reggae Film Festival and screened his 1970s feature film “Countryman” in one of its rare Jamaican showings. Dickie Jobson was a friend and business associate of film makers Perry Henzell and Chris Blackwell, so it was no surprise when he ventured into film production with the romantic drama “Countryman” – one of the early efforts to continue the progressive move to indigenous feature film production established by “The Harder They Come”. The “Countryman” story of two American tourists cast away on the Hellshire beach where real-life fisherman Countryman lives, and the adventures that follow as police pursue them as suspected drug exporters, was typical of the 70’s era when Jamaica was viewed simply as a tropical paradise with an interesting culture. It’s famous scene when Countryman cooks a several course Jamaican meal on an outdoor fire and the delight the visitors express as they taste each new food surprise, has become a classic.
Like most other Jamaican films of that era, the acclaim for the director’s achievement has only come in modern times, and financial success may never materialize. Dickie Jobson was therefore delighted to be honoured at the Reggae Film Festival earlier this year and to enjoy the company of his film making friends, including his cousin, film maker Wayne Jobson.
As part of the Island Jamaica film and music team, Dickie was associated with every film project of that prolific organization, and assisted many overseas film production companies to interact with Jamaica. The name of Dickie Jobson and his beautiful film “Countryman” will be forever memorialized in the Hall of Fame of the Jamaican film industry. On behalf of the Jamaica Film Academy, and as a personal friend, please allow me to extend honours on his passing."
(Text taken from an article written by Barbara Blake Hannah 25th Dec.2009)
Posted by Reggae Films UK at 5:32 PM
15 comments:
Ronnie Barakat said...
Farewell my friend, I will always remember your contribution to helping to establishing the career of the musician of the last century the great Bob Marley.Ronnie Barakat.
December 26, 2008 12:01 AM
MFW said...
I saw Dicko at 2 parties last week we danced , hung out and I just cant believe that you are no longer here with us... We shall all miss your sense of fun, endurance, intelligence, and this Bud's for you my friend.The definite end of an era.Nuff LoveMaxine
December 26, 2008 3:32 PM
dennis said...
I nominate Dickie for our next National Hero.Dennis R.
December 26, 2008 4:08 PM
Del said...
I am so saddened at the passing of Dickie, he still had so much more to give. May his soul rest in peace and may his memories live on.Del Crooks - Jamaica
December 26, 2008 8:38 PM
The Brownery said...
A sad goodbye to a gentleman, a quiet genius, and a lovely generous man - from Dickie's friends at Studio Eight Productions. We believed in the Countryman Two project and we so looking forward to realising Dickie's dream.
December 26, 2008 9:35 PM
GAFFA said...
Richard; Ah kno Puff waan bless yuh up....All LOVE Bloods. The Spirit Lives.
December 27, 2008 7:04 AM
Anonymous said...
My Dickie "ElFego Backa" man ahead of his time, Video Real Estate, first TV add for a real estate development in Jamaica, Cardif Hall. So many ideas we could have built on. Spoke to me on Monday 22nd .......if I only knew... Great Guy, good friend to all P & L Bro.David Guilfoyle.
December 27, 2008 10:05 PM
Anonymous said...
thanks so much for not only one of the greatest Reggae films of all time, but one of the greatest soundtracks.
December 27, 2008 10:51 PM
Anonymous said...
It was a sad day when we lost Dickie Jobson, an elegant gentleman in the truest sense, modest and humble, and a raconteur with a rapier wit. He was a doting father, a loving son, brother, cousin and friend. Dickie was generous, kind and compassionate and will be missed by all who were fortunate enough to know him. My condolences to the Jobson family.
December 28, 2008 11:42 PM
simochau said...
Dickie u just called me from Kingston to Hong Kong on the Christmas Eve 10am Yan Yan was glad to hear u but now u left us behind gone with the winds u told me u want to come visit china & making Countrymon II together chinese audience would love to see the Fastestmon on Earth & Greatest Hero Jamaican Countrymon as Dickie Jobson rest in peace 1love yanyan hk
December 29, 2008 11:50 AM
Sanwad said...
yea man, the reggae world will miss him.
January 02, 2009 10:39 PM
Reggae Films UK said...
http://www.unitedreggae.com/articles/n254/123108/remembering-dickie-jobson
January 03, 2009 9:44 AM
Danny Ennevor said...
Dicko.. I could not believe the news when Jimmy called. We had not seen you for some time but you always kept in touch. Was just joking the other day how when you were standing beside me as my best man 47 years ago waiting for the wedding to begin you whispered "It's not to late Dans the car keys are in my pocket"! We'll miss you Dicko.. God Bless.
January 11, 2009 4:22 PM
Anonymous said...
A kind wonderful man meet Dickie whilst visiting countryman 2007 Will be greatly missed but memories always remain God Bless you my friend susanna
January 28, 2009 3:53 PM
Anonymous said...
See the article below for info on Dickie's life...http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/obituaries/article5592961.ece
February 17, 2009 11:24 AM
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