http://jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20040217/cleisure/cleisure3.html

Kevin O'Brien Chang

BORN TO humble circumstances in a small country with a few million inhabitants, Robert was one of history's great songwriters. His lyrics championing the poor and oppressed are recited and sung the world over. A free spirit who praised the pleasures of intoxication, he fathered 11 children from six women and died when only 37. His nation's most famous son, Robert's birthday is celebrated by countrymen and admirers around the globe.

This is 'Rabbie' Burns, the bard of Scotland. And with minor modifications ­ loved ganja not whis-key, nine children with seven women, died at 36 not 37 ­ it is also Bob Marley.

Burns' January 25th birthday is Scotland's national day, an occasion for 'bold john barleycorn' inspired admirers everywhere to praise Rabbie and test the truth of 'Kings may be blest but Tam was glorious, o'er all the ills o life victorious'.

Marley's February 6th 'earthday' already stirs up 'kaya' fuelled 'wake up and turn I loose' global tributes to our most lionised singer, and might conceivably in the future become as important to Jamaicans as 'Burns night' is to the Scots.

Burns and Marley both gave pleasure with words and music, and each penned a world anthem ­ namely 'Auld Lang Syne' and One Love. Some say you can't compare 'high art' apples to 'popular entertainment' oranges. But art is merely entertainment that lasts, and many a classic started as lowbrow fare ­ Don Quixote, the best of novels, for instance. Time, the only true critic, is no respecter of origins.

Once only what was written down could survive. And so 'classical' music which could be notated and passed on across time and space had a much higher status than 'folk' music which existed only in the heads of musically illiterate performers and often died with them. But electronics record more faithfully than the pen, and just as movies have surpassed novels in importance, so has script mediated orchestral music been superseded by the captured immediacy of 'popular' music. Time will tell in a 100 years what has been lost, or gained.

But to our tale ­ similarities of thought between the two Roberts are not hard to find. Compare for example, "Then let us pray that come it may, [As come it will for a' that] ­ That man to man, the world, o'er, Shall brithers be for a' that." with "One Love! What about the One Heart? Let's get together and feel all right. I'm pleadin' to mankind!" Nor is "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?" far from "In this great future you can't forget the past." And "Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die!" is not so different from "Get up stand up, stand up for your rights".

I'm not familiar with the historical process by which, after dying in poverty, Burns became Scotland's greatest hero and arguably 'the poet of mankind'. No doubt the widely scattered Scots Diaspora spread his name, and Burns' championing of the common man also gave him a great revolutionary appeal. Poetic excellence too must have played its part, for his is a unique blend of natural vigour and technical subtlety. And yet some specialists in the field downgrade him in comparison to say Shelley or Keats, though my perhaps crude instincts much prefer Burns' 'been there done that' forthrightness to these sometimes precious 'blythe spirits'. (Yes, my literary tastes are sadly westernised, an inevitable by-product of ex-British colony schooling.)

DEVELOPING PHENOMENON

Bob Marley's worldwide popularity is a still developing phenomenon. When alive he never had a British or American top 20 hit and was not mainstream popular outside Jamaica. Today his universal appeal is astonishing. Not only do both young and old respond to him, but so do people of all nationalities in virtually every corner of the globe. There must be a special magic in music that pleases so many ears of such differing backgrounds.

Yet his posthumous fame has non-musical aspects. 'Died too soon martyrs' are always eternally young and appealing. And the half-white, half-black Marley was handsome in an exceptionally cross cultural sort of way, with his mixed skin colour and features making him a perfect 'one-world' poster child with whom all races can identify. Then too his dreadlocked depiction have a sometimes disconcerting resemblance to traditional paintings of Jesus Christ.

The resultant mystique has elevated Marley into a cultural icon on whom millions find it easy to project their dreams, wishes and fantasies. I don't agree, but I've heard many say that it's more because of looks than music why Bob Marley is so much better known today than Peter Tosh.

Sadly, overexposure is eroding my enthusiasm for Bob. Great as his songs are, there can be too much of a good thing. And these days I frequently find my weary subconscious focusing not on their lyrical grace, sweet melodies and rich harmony, but on their sometimes ­ at least to my worn-out inner ear ­ lethargic rhythms, metronomic beats and repetitive hooks. Even Homer nods in excess.

I partly blame our often unimaginative disc jockeys. Not all are guilty, but on Bob's birthday the station on my workplace radio didn't play one pre-Island song ­ no 'Simmer Down', 'Nice Time', or 'Trenchtown Rock'. And is 'Le-gend' the only Marley album our hotels own? It may have sold 20 million copies, but its endless repetition is increasingly making me sick of even the wonderful 'One Love'. (At least you only hear 'Auld Lang Syne' once a year!)

Yes it's familiar easy listening, but do even one-week tourists really want to hear the same 20 songs played over and over again? This country has after all produced hundreds of other great tunes. Man, am I becoming a middle aged crank already?