INTERVIEW
Interview & pictures : Sergio Marigomez
Sound-clash fans the world over know him well, so synonymous has his name become with musical murder. Admittedly Rodigan is a soundman, one of the few white men who 'clash' the Jamaicans on their own territory... and wins! But above all he is a radio presenter. He can be heard on Kiss 100 in London, Irie Jam FM in New York, but also on BFBS around the world. His job as a radio presenter has allowed him to meet the greatest artists over the years, and there is no doubt that this man is a veritable human encyclopaedia of reggae. A meeting with the rude boy gentleman. Gwan Rodi, gwan!
Reggaefrance / How did your passion, or rather your dependence, for this music we call reggae begin?
David Rodigan / It was 35 years ago. I was 15 or 14, and the first thing I heard was Jamaican music. It was ska, in 1964/1965, with 'My boy Lolipop', then 'The Guns of Navarone', the Skatalites. 'Oh! Carolina' was a very important record for me, as was 'Al Capone' by Prince Buster. From that point on, once I discovered that this music came from Jamaica, I became completely hooked!!
At that time, as a young Mod, I was also buying American sounds: Curtis Mayfield, the Impressions and so on. The first time I heard reggae was partly on the radio and partly in youth clubs and at parties.
It was the music of young Mods and, of course, of the immigrants from the West Indies who had brought that music with them. With a few friends we quickly got addicted; I started buying records in 1967 with the money I had for my lunch, and I've kept going to this day.
When did this passion become a job?
It became a job in 1978. I was still buying every record that came out, and BBC London put out an announcement: they were looking for a radio presenter for a reggae show, a show which, incidentally, was to be the only one of its kind at the time, although Tommy Vans had briefly presented a programme on Capitol Radio.
So I went through the auditions for this show on BBC London, and I got the job!
Was it your first experience of radio?
Yes, it felt as if it was meant to be, and I really had a great time there. A year and a half later, Capitol Radio, a much bigger station, got in touch. I accepted their offer and left BBC London, and the success of the show became truly phenomenal, even if I say so myself.
There, and although it had already started at BBC London, I got the chance to meet so many stars, the chance not only to interview them but also to get to know them. These people were heroes to me; I had admired their work on record, I had admired them from afar, and suddenly there they all were, all these stars right before my eyes!
Your first trip to Jamaica must have been quite an experience.
It was in 1979, and it was like a pilgrimage for me. I was so excited, I couldn't describe what I felt. I was there, in the cradle of reggae... I was there, in Kingston. There, in front of Prince Buster's shop. There, at Studio One. Every day was exceptional! Every day I met superstars: Sly Dunbar, Robbie Shakespeare, Gregory Isaacs, the Mighty Diamonds.
I went to King Tubby's and I met the King! Prince Jammy was at the controls and a young man was busy at the back, who was to become better known as Scientist. And all that happened to me within a few weeks in Kingston in January 1979. It's a trip I will never forget. And it was the start of a long list of trips. Since then, with a few exceptions, I've always managed to go back there at least once a year to recharge my musical batteries.
When did David Rodigan Sound System begin?
I've always been a DJ; from the age of 14/15 we held parties and people would ask me to bring my records because everyone knew I collected them. That was the start; even at school I played at the school disco, which was held in the gym.
I always played Jackie Mittoo's 'Ram Jam', and people nicknamed me David 'Ram Jam' Rodigan. After school I studied economics, but I didn't like it. I had always dreamed of being part of the Royal Shakespeare Company; I loved the theatre, I was in the school drama club and I wanted to become an actor.
I tried for three years, taking lessons, and I was lucky enough to land a role in the theatre. All that time I carried on collecting records, and I remember that when my company was touring 'The Tempest', I would often go and DJ in clubs nearby after the performance.
As for the sound system, it started in 1979 when big clubs began to hire me because I was a radio presenter. For the next 10 years I was mainly a DJ playing reggae in clubs across the country, but also in Jamaica, because I met Barry G in 1983 and he invited me onto his show. That show, incidentally, turned into a clash.
Does that mean you already had dubplates back then?
Yes, but the dubplates of the time weren't specials. Your name wasn't mentioned in the tune. What you could have was a copy of an unreleased tune cut on acetate, or an exclusive mix of an existing tune by Tubby or Jammy.
That's what dubplates were: no name mentioned, other than something in the intro along the lines of "only Rodigan can play this". Mikey Dread had some, but there were also white labels, test pressings and pre-releases. That's what was around at the time, nothing like the dubplates that everybody can get now! In 1991, I met Bodyguard Sound (Jamaica) in England and I proposed a clash. Everybody told me I was going to get killed because they had so many dubplates.
I tried anyway, I made a few specials for the occasion and it took place in Clarendon (Jamaica). An incredible experience! We did it again over several years. That was the beginning of the sound system and the sound clashes, because above all I'm a radio presenter. But my love of music and of reggae meant I couldn't not go further. I've had some very good times in clashes with people who respect and love the same sound as me.
What does it feel like to be a white man in a black milieu?
As surprising as it may seem, I've always been very warmly welcomed by black people in their own country.
I've always been very moved and grateful for that, because it wasn't necessarily a given! You would have every right to expect a harsher reaction after everything white people have put black people through.
I think they felt the genuine love of the music, of their music, that drove me... and still drives me. Because I could express that love on the radio, I think they could feel it and... (Rodigan is interrupted by a bass player who insists on handing him his mix-tape.) Where was I?
The price of fame!
Yes... People all give me tapes for me to play on my show! Let's pick up again. I had a few surprises; quite a few people seemed taken aback when they found out who I was. Especially in the early years, because plenty of people thought I was black, born in England but black! So it was a surprise for them to see that I was white.
You know, it's their music because it was born in their country, but... Music is like that, it travels and really belongs to no one except the ears of the world.
Trick question: which is your favourite night?
(Silence.) Hard. Because I've done loads. Apart from the clashes in Jamaica with Barry Gordon... One of the most exciting nights I've done was my clash in 1993 against Miami's number one DJ: Waggy T. It was a really exciting clash because we were evenly matched: just like me he was a radio presenter, a good mixer, and he had a good MC. It's a night I will never forget. Yes, that night and my clash against Ricky Trooper (Killamanjaro) in New York in 1997 will always stay in my memory.
An easier one: the worst night of your career?
That's a good question. In terms of vibes, it's probably my clash against Bodyguard in 1998 in New York. I had chosen a strategy in the Dub Fi Dub that didn't work: I was playing old sounds while the crowd was young, so they didn't recognise them and it got difficult.
It was a terrible experience and at the end I had to concede victory to Bodyguard, which didn't stop people saying I could have won if the crowd had decided... But I think you have to know how to admit defeat sometimes; there wouldn't be so much aggression in clashes if everybody did the same.
Do you remember your clash against King Dragon/Lord Zeljko (Radio Nova) in Paris in 1996?
Yes, very well! I really enjoyed that clash, King Dragon was really going for it that night. How long ago was that again? I often wonder why I don't play in Paris more often, and I can't wait to go back.
Did you win that clash?
I prefer to let people form their own opinion. I think he played very well that night, and so did we.
As a perpetual observer of the reggae world, how do you see reggae today?
I think the music is still interesting; there are new talents who impress me. Morgan Heritage are one of the most important phenomena in modern reggae, as are their little brothers LMS, who impressed me on their first album. Luciano too, and all those artists who carry on the tradition of the roots & culture sound, like Capleton or Sizzla.
My only criticism, or rather one of my criticisms, is that the music is becoming more predictable; we are facing manufactured rhythms rather than creations. It's sometimes tiring to come across runs of 13 versions of the same riddim, all in the shops at the same time; the law of averages says they won't all be good.
Producers should put out fewer, maybe two or three to start with, because it saturates the market. What made this music impressive was its melodic side; if we lose sight of that, sales will be more limited. Dancehall is certainly very exciting, but some things are wrong: the misguided glorification of certain things or pointless references to certain sexual behaviour. Otherwise, reggae is doing rather well, but the business needs more investment.
Legend has it that you own a Bob Marley dubplate.
Yes, I have a Bob Marley plate. But it's not a tune recorded for me, it's a creation. Marley died in 1981; I interviewed Bob when he came back from the Zimbabwe independence celebrations in 1981, and as far as I know he never cut a dubplate mentioning the name of a sound. Quite simply because it wasn't done at the time. What I wanted to see was what Marley might have done on a dubplate.
I got access to the original tapes of 'Iron, Lion, Zion' at Island and I called on Shawnie B, who is a master engineer, to create an alternative version of the song. In fact, the tune was intended for a clash with Killamanjaro and I knew that one of Trooper's favourite riddims was the 'cuss-cuss', so we laid Marley's voice on that rhythm.
It took 18 hours!! The result was phenomenal. And it really set the place on fire when we played it at the clash; nobody could believe their eyes and Trooper said it was an impersonator. I had the kind permission of Island, because they knew what I wanted to do with it: it was to play it at that clash in 1997. For once, that is a true Special!
Speaking of specials, hasn't it all become a bit too much of a pure business these days?
Totally! In many cases they're not even specials any more, just a copy of the version with a name added! It's a business, a way for the artist to make money. If the sounds ask for them, and more and more of them do, then obviously the artists are going to want money.
You can't ask them to do it for free! Originally, they did it cheaply or for nothing for people in the business. Many artists were generous with me that way and I'm grateful to them. In the past I only did 2 or 3 a year, for really good tunes.
Sometimes certain versions reach me along with the dubplate version and I keep them preciously. But these days it seems to be nothing but that, and I think that's a mistake. It's not only about the plates, it's first and foremost about the music, and above all about playing it properly, with love and care.
I believe Dennis Brown's 'To the Foundation' is one of your favourite specials. Why?
Dennis and I were very good friends; I got to know him in 1978 and we always made time to see each other. I had always wanted to have his tune 'To the Foundation'. I was lucky enough to know Gussie Clarke, who gave me access to the original tapes, and Doctor Marshall agreed to do the mix, and he's one of my favourite engineers.
The problem was above all getting hold of Dennis Brown; Dennis kept moving around the world. One evening the phone rings, and it's Gussie Clarke on the line. He puts on the speakerphone and asks me, 'Guess who I'm with?' I answer, 'Surely not Dennis Emmanuel Brown.' and I hear Dennis say 'David' in that unmistakable voice of his. I'll never forget that moment! He said to me, 'I'm in the studio and I'm going to do this special for you.' I had faxed him the lyrics, modified into a soundbwoy version.
He did it, and he did it remarkably well, an exceptional vocal take with his voice overdubbed for the harmonies; it's more than a plate... it's a unique recording. It's the perfect example of what a special should be, something completely original; Doctor Marshall gave me three different mixes. Dennis sang other specials for me before he died, one of them ironically titled "Rodigan Spirit Is Moving With Me".
Do you know how many dubplates you have?
Not the faintest idea! I've often thought about counting them without ever really taking the time to do it. And there are really a lot of them.
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