Zo nu en dan durf ik weleens naar goede reggaemuziek luisteren. Toegeven: het is jaren geleden dat ik nog iets nieuws heb aangehoord; iets nieuws, dat 'degelijk' of 'steengoed' kan worden genoemd, bedoel ik.
Mike Love is met zijn revolutionaire muziek daarop misschien een kleine uitzondering, maar anderzijds zou ik er geen uren kunnen naar luisteren. Een tiental minuten wel. En, wat hij als getalenteerde musicus in die 10 minuten brengt, is volgens mij de moeite waard om te beluisteren.
Kunst met een grote 'K' is het niet, verre van zelfs. Er komen zeer veel synthetische klanken aan te pas en een hoop geroep en geschreeuw vanuit zijn instinctieve delen, maar misschien toch de moeite waard om er eventjes naar te luisteren. In mijn ogen is Mike Love iemand uit de jaren '60, die - samen met zijn huidge fans - via een tijdmachine heel toevallig in de 21ste eeuw is beland.
Hij brengt prachtige, rebellerende boodschappen, maar indien iedereen als hem zou denken en leven, dan zouden er geen auto's zijn, geen gsm's, geen tv's, et cetera. Kortom: geen technologie, geen vooruitgang, en zo meer, en zouden we terug in de Oertijd belanden. Eigenlijk zou hij het dan ook zonder zijn instrumentaria moet doen; instrumentaria, dat hij blootvoets manipuleert.. :-)
In elk geval: indien je van reggae houdt, moet je hem beluisteren. Wat hij met zijn lied 'Permanent Holiday' in wezen van plan is, is niet meteen duidelijk. Daarom moet je wachten totdat je de 4de minuut, plus 22 seconden hebt bereikt. Zet de klank ietwat luider, en aanhoor hem...
Permanent Holiday - Mike Love - Album: 'The Change I'm Seeking'
Oh Lord, I’m on a permanent holiday
I’m going outside to play
I ain’t gonna slave away
Not for no corporate Babylon
I’m never gonna be a pawn in their manipulation games.
Oh Lord I’m taking the reins
I’m breaking the chains
I’m never gonna kneel, no way
My prophet is Heaven sent
No preacher or president can lead I astray.
They’ll never know
I’m taking Jah highway home.
Oh I’ve got my own path to follow
Don’t know if you’ll overstand
I’ve got my own truth to swallow
And you know that if I could you know I would throw my guitar on my back, pick up the slack, and leave here tomorrow.
But I know that I am a pawn of Babylon I got to face the facts, embrace the axe, and cut these chains off my sorrow.
So I’m on a permanent holiday
I’m going outside to play
I ain’t gonna slave away, no, not for no corporate babylon
I’m never gonna be a pawn in their manipulation games.
Ten thousand years of captivity
We must eventually
Open up our eyes and see
They’re manipulating we
With so much uncertainty
And so many mysteries
Why are so few questioning
The unnatural state of things?
It’s a nightmare
We’re living in a nightmare
Everyone’s living so scared
They’re virtually unaware
Of this fear that rules their lives
Occupies, consumes their minds
This fear of bankruptcy
Financial impotancy
It’s funny money, money, money
It’s all this digital currency, woah yeah
It’s all this monopoly money
That keeps us from ever being free.
And so it seems we’ll be in this prison for life
’cause if we keep buying then they’ll keep selling the lies
So it’s up to I and I...
.... (Mike loops a beatbox, a bass line, some guitar lines, etcetera.)
(Mike: "There’s a section in the middle that is a unique thing that has been something for me that people have identified with where I have a phrase where I break up the sections into syllables and sort of loop it that way. It comes in with a certain section of syllables and then another section. At the third section, it all comes together and then it makes sense. It sounds at first that I’m not speaking English laying down nonsensical syllables.")
Ohh Lord, I won’t be manipulated, mind-controlled, and inundated
I will seek the Revelation, make my life a celebration
I will be the change I’m seeking, manifest the words I’m speaking
I refuse to be imprisoned. I will make my own decisions.
I’m on a permanent holiday
I’m going outside to play
I ain’t gonna slave away
Not for no corporate babylon
I’m never gonna be a pawn in their manipulation games.
Oh Lord I’m taking the reins
I’m breaking the chains
I’m never gonna kneel, no way
My prophet is Heaven sent
No preacher or president can lead I astray
They’ll never know. I’m taking Jah highway home.
I’ll never go astray
I’m leaving the past
And forwarding fast
’cause freedom is here to stay.
Oh Lord we got to take back the knowledge
We got to take back the power
We got to take back the knowledge
We got to take back the power
We got to take back the knowledge
To take back the power
Take back what they have stolen from our hearts
And we got to take back the esoteric knowledge
Ohh Lord for too long they’ve been keeping us apart
Ohh yes, we got to take back the knowledge, take back the power, humanity don’t let this be our final hour.
Take back the knowledge, take back the power, humanity don’t let this be our final hour. (x7)
Barbershop
I would never give my money to a barbershop,
I grow my lion’s mane according to the will of jah,
Cause I’m a natty dreadlock,
I and I am a rasta,
I’m a natty dreadlock.
I would never give my money to a barbershop,
I grow my lion’s mane according to the will of jah,
Cause I’m a natty dreadlock,
I and I am a rasta,
I’m a natty dreadlock.
I man will grow my roots until they reach the ground
As a symbol of the love for jah that I have found,
So that everwhere I go all of my people know,
They’re not fighting alone.
They’re not fighting alone
Cause when the wicked man sees I n I crown,
He sees a tree he could never ever cut down,
And when he hears our righteous and iternal sound,
He goes back underground.
But I say to the wicked man,
When will you change your evil ways,
Lord I say, to the baldhead man,
When will you learn to stop your fuss
And fight and live up in the truth and right
And join up with your brotherman and say.
I would never give my money to a barbershop,
I grow my lion’s mane according to the will of jah,
Cause I’m a natty dreadlock,
I and I am a rasta,
I’m a natty dreadlock
I knew a man who walked the streets in a suit and tie,
With fear down in his heart and in his lowered eyes.
He gave up love for the pursuit of money,
Sucking blood instead of drinking milk and honey,
Working for the blackhearted establishment,
Furthering the murdering of the innocent,
He built an empire out of the blood of man,
And turned his back on the father’s hands.
But he never realized his compromise until he reached the gates of zion,
Never tried to purify his heart until the judgement day,
Now he sits in darkness and his memories they burn him up like fire,
Waiting for the cool water of the father to wash them away.
So go ahead and give all the barberman
And the clothes companies your hard earned cash money,
But I man no deal with vanity cause it keeps humanity from living free,
Strictly roots and culture is all I need to achieve heartical livity,
So keep your clippers from my head cause I’m a dready natural natty.
I would never give my money to a barbershop,
I grow my lion’s mane according to the will of jah,
Cause I’m a natty dreadlock,
I and I am a rasta,
I’m a natty dreadlock.