|
Somehow, you don't
expect to encounter authentic roots reggae bands in white-bread,
upscale Orange County, an area known for producing third-generation
ska, punk/reggae hybrid groups, and, in worst-case scenarios,
corporate-rock groups that happen to cadge chicka-chicka rhythms,
passing themselves off as the real deal, mon. So imagine my
surprise when I saw a local group opening for Julian and Damien
Marley at the Coach House a couple of weeks ago that could
make even mean old Newt Gingrich skank like a ganja-kissed
islander.
The group is called Black & White, and
it turns out this was it’s major-venue debut. Fronted
by a gifted, charismatic singer/guitarist; anchored by a riddim
section that carves deep and cavernous grooves; and buttressed
by a bevy of horns, keyboards, percussion and background singers,
Black & White is a nine-piece bliss machine that recalls
the halcyon days of roots reggae, an era when artists like
Bob Marley, Tosh and Cliff were in their prime.
The group is a manifestation of the musical
and religious muses of leader Carlos Chin, a complex man possessed
of a zealot’s passion. Chin, 33 - the product of Jamaican,
Chinese and Creole stock - grew up in Panama. He views Black
& White as the platform from which to preach the word
of God; he views himself as a prophet. Chin’s religious
beliefs are unconventional to say the least; the singer has
negotiated a truce between Rastafarianism, as practiced by
many followers of reggae music, and messianic Christianity.
“I’m [Rastafarian], but some of
us believe in Jesus,” explains Chin as he nibbles on
a slice of pizza at Sonny’s restaurant in San Clemente.
“Some believe that Selassie I is the reincarnation of
Christ. And than some believe he hasn’t come back yet.
It’s not a very popular view. God is my center, my drive,
what motivates me. That’s what brings us peace, love.
It motivates me in the sense that it motivated Bob Marley.
Bob Marley did a job, and his job was to bring the music out
from Jamaica to the people - not a people, all people - and
he did that. I’m a different generation, and that’s
what I’m doing. That’s what God is all about: all
people.”
Marley’s music is deeply instilled
in Chin’s din, from the sweetly sonorous, Marley-esque
timbre of his voice to the highly melodic, wah-wah pedal-bent
guitar solos he lays down effortlessly. Chin can also shred
with the best of them, as he did on a very Hendrix-like take
on “Hey Joe” at the Coach House. His heroes’
influence might be as apparent as the dreads topping his dome,
but when your influences are as classic as Chin’s, it’s
not necessarily a bad thing.
“Yes, I am very influenced by Bob Marley
- all the way,” Chin acknowledges. “And Jimi Hendrix
has been a major influence in my whole career. And, believe
it or not, John Lennon. It was John Lennon’s music, which
I heard just before he died, that moved me to play music.
But then the Bob Marley influence kicked in because rock &
roll wasn’t natural for me. I grew up listening to salsa
and reggae and calypso.”
Music seems secondary in importance to Chin’s
religion, though. Throughout our conversation, he demonstrates
a remarkable knack for turning any topic into a discussion
of his beliefs. His devotion seems sincere, absolute, all-encompassing.
When he gets on a roll, his eyes widen, a manic smile creases
his face, and his body trembles like a preacher’s in
the throes of holy rapture.
As we speak, an older white woman walks
up behind Chin and starts fondling his dreadlocks. “I
always wanted to do that,” she tells him as if her curious
desires overrode the fact that she has just treated a total
stranger with all the respect usually accorded a stray dog.
We shall reserve comment on the arrogance/ignorance/presumption
of white people in Orange County for another occasion; suffice
it to say that Chin completely ignored this intrusion of his
space. He makes no comment on what just occurred beyond taking
the opportunity to explain the religious significance of his
dreads.
“The Book of Numbers, the Old Testament,
chapter 6, verses 1 through 10, tells you about a Nazareth
vow,” he says. “You don’t have to be from Nazareth
to make it. It’s a vow to show your devotion to God by
growing your hair long; never cut your hair. You will not
drink any liquor or wine or grape juice or anything from the
vine. When you do this, you become holy to the Lord. I don’t
have to do that because I’m saved by grace according
to my faith, but it’s an extra for me to become even
closer to my creator. In this way, I can be used by him as
a vehicle to get across what he wants me to get across.”
Chin says it’s his closeness to God
that makes his music special and draws people to him. “When
I sing, it comes from in here [he points to his chest] because
I allow him to come in and that comes out. People like me
and that’s because there is an extra thing coming out
of me from my God, from within. They can’t put their
finger on it, but I know what it is. It’s not me, it’s
him working through me because I have submitted myself to
him.”
Black & White has been a long time coming
for Chin, a San Clemente resident and former member of OC
faves On-Root. Chin has been looking to start a roots reggae
band in the area for years but found OC a less then ideal
musical climate. He jammed with local players and even auditioned
as a guitarist for a number of local bands proffering themselves
as reggae groups, but he found that their definition of the
music was a far cry from his purist vision.
“I was very frustrated with the idea
of playing watered-down reggae,” he says. “I do
hold resentment towards some bands that say they play reggae
and they do their hair in dreadlocks, and then they put it
up in a ponytail and put on a suit, and they go to work. Then
they smoke a big joint and say, ‘I’m a Rastafarian.’
Then they do their day job with a tie and pretend to be something
else.”
Last November, the pieces finally fell into
place when bassist Denfield “Jonsie” Jones, drummer
David Elecciri, keyboardist Johnny “Blue” Bates,
keyboardist/saxophonist Fernando Donso, saxaphonist Nat Love,
trumpeter Marcell Porter, percussionist Marco Veasey and backup
singer Alice Isaacs were recruited to realize Chin’s
vision. Black & White’s collective dedication to
the project is expressed in densely layered, plainly spiritual
music that obviously comes from the heart and soul rather
than the ego. From a business end, you know these guys have
to be serious about the music; nine piece bands splitting
the few meager bucks that comprise local bands’ paydays
basically means they’re playing for nothing.
Also feeding into Chin’s vision is
the very diversity of the band. Black & White includes
musicians of myriad races, both sexes and an age range from
the late-teens to late-30’s. “It was difficult to
find musicians who wanted to do what I want to do, who are
willing to play my music, who are willing to learn what I’m
hearing in my head,” says Chin. “It took me four
years to get these cats. They play my music because I have
backing from above. I have the authority to tell them things
will happen.”
Chin’s musical message, like most reggae,
is one of love and harmony - although he chooses to omit the
ganja sacrament of Rasta culture, the very element that tends
to attract and draw young fans.
“I don't smoke weed anymore; I don’t
do those things anymore because they cloud my mind,”
he says. “This way, I’m free for whenever he calls
unto me to do the things he asks me to do. I’m not the
only one who believes those things. You don’t hear about
it a lot because it’s not a very popular thing; smoking
weed and things like that are what make [reggae] popular.
A lot of cats, especially white kids, hear about it and think
it’s really hip because they get to smoke weed. It’s
not about that. I cut myself off from those things.”
No matter - as cliched as it may sound to
those who haven’t met him and experienced his warmth
and sincerity first hand, Chin absolutely believes that he’s
on a divine mission and his success has been preordained by
God.
“Me being holy takes care of me in
every way,” Chin says, and he ain’t hardly bullshittin’.
** Rascalin and The Roots
Rockers were formerly known as Black & White **
Back
to Reviews
|
