MOONSHINE INK

Summer usually brings out the best in us (at least it does in me!). We lounge in the sun, frolic in the fields, hike and bike through the wilderness, and listen to reggae music outdoors. This last activity brings to mind the social consciousness and idyllic awareness of the “island vibe.” While at Commons Beach recently, I was lucky to be present at the performance of roots reggae artist Taj Weekes and his talented band who have been an integral part in the revival of roots reggae (his latest album “Deidem” was recently noted on Billboard for being a part of the new resurgence of this musical genre). Due in part to his approachable nature and thanks to his manager Shirley Menard, I sat with him the following day and got to know a little bit more about the man behind the music. What I discovered immediately was that the inescapable beauty and essence of Taj Weekes is found in his humanitarian values. Much of his music delves into life’s overlooked human experiences: oppression, loss, greed, fear, inequality and injustice.

Native of the Caribbean island known as Saint Lucia, he knows what it means to fight for independence… his island was fought over many times by Europeans and finally became independent in 1976. Meanwhile a young Taj was learning about family, survival, and music. Taj recalls growing up and listening to the Roots Reggae played by his older brothers (he is the youngest of 10 siblings). Early reggae musicians were considered the “town criers” delivering the news of the world set to rhythm and rhyme. With the popularization and computerization of the “Reggae beat,” he noted a change from a listening music to a dancing music– not so terrible except that oftentimes the message was lost to the pop culture and money-hungry imitators. Thus, in his opinion, occurred a loss in the consciousness building power of the music. 

Taj is driven by the purpose of getting the message heard. I was instantly entranced by his gentle manner and fragile voice; moved by the words he spoke with thoughtful demeanor and careful measure. We discussed every topic from camping in the wild, the socio-political plight of humanity, Hurricane Katrina, Darfur, and Biblical prophecies. A committed believer in Rastafari, Taj may invoke the stereotypical image of the herb-worshipping Rasta, but he is profoundly so much more. He ponders on and delivers the state of humanity and our impact on Mother Earth through his music. His meditations and visions give rise to lyrics, which he is compelled to share with those who care to listen. While he smiles gently and speaks softly, this approachable and extremely likeable man holds a sadness deep within clearly evidenced by the lyrics found in his music.

During his cross-country travels in the U.S., he encountered a number of wandering souls and learned the history of the Native Americans; their plight and loss of land, power, and might. In homage to their struggles he wrote a song which will be found on his next album (he currently has enough material to put together eight more albums!).

During our candid discussion, I sensed the feelings of guilt he harbors for living a life filled with simple pleasures while somewhere else on the planet war is devastating the lives of many, children are dying, starving, losing their parents, struggling to survive. For this reason, the man who sings about the troubles of others does more than just raise awareness with his music. He repeatedly spoke of the “collective power of people” to right the wrongs of society and heal each other. For his part, he created They Often Cry Outreach, a charity dedicated to raising funds and educating children in poor and underprivileged societies. Undoubtedly this program is why the International Consortium of Caribbean Professionals has named him a Goodwill Ambassador.

Taj Weekes is much more than a performer. Just as the ‘70s and ‘80s gave us the thought provoking music of Bob Marley, we are today in the midst of another mystic who finds music and poetry at the heart of all of life’s experiences. The Park City Record in Utah describes him as “Bono Meets Bob Marley.” In being a writer and performer of roots reggae music, Taj Weekes provides us with the fodder needed for social consciousness and intellectual dialogue, and ultimately social change.

For information on They Often Cry Outreach and to donate to this virtuous cause visit theyoftencryoutreach.org.

THE VOICE - UK

Published: 6 July 2008; Issue: 1328

Interview by: Davina Morris 

FOCUSED: Taj Weekes

SOME people make music for entertainment.

Taj Weekes is more about inspiring people to think about the world around them. The St. Lucia-born reggae singer, along with his band Adowa, has made it his mission to give a voice to the oppressed, and he’s earned much praise for it from many in the reggae fraternity.

CLICHÉ
The idea of making ‘sufferers music’ might sound a tad cliché. After all, Weekes isn’t the first reggae artist to be a messenger for the poor and downtrodden. But there’s something special about the talented singer that has meant his music has resonated with music fans and reggae professionals alike. His new album DEIDEM– meaning ‘all of us’– has been celebrated for it’s heartfelt look at the fragmentation of the world and the search to give everyone a voice in it.

Weekes’ selflessness is, perhaps, all the more poignant when one considers his own personal losses. A few years back, Weekes’ mother died of a heart attack. Within less than a year, his father also passed away. Weekes began to compile an album with songs that reflected his pain – but then he scrapped every single tune. “I was wallowing in my grief,” Weekes recalls. “And it did take time to overcome that grief. But eventually, I looked at it like: people are dying every day. Yes, I lost two people. But there are children dying every day. Those thoughts enabled me to put things into perspective. So I scrapped all of those songs and began writing songs about the world and not just myself.” He continues: “Whether it’s Darfur, the Middle East, global warming; there’s something going on in every part of the world and we’re trying to bring it all together on one album. No one is talking to each other. The album is designed to create conversation where people can come together.”

Weekes grew up the youngest of 10 children in a family where music was everpresent. By age five, he was singing in church and by 11 he was composing his own calypso music. His older brother’s immersion in Rastafari provided him with a spiritual awakening and a context for his burgeoning worldview. He then ran with that musical baton and went on to pen songs on issues facing modern-day society. The album track Orphans Cry, with its classic reggae feel, depicts the suffering and isolation of lost children, making it vivid and real, and more than an abstraction on the TV or in a newspaper. And the song, Since Cain, with its Biblical reference to the first act of violence, laments the endless cycle of brutality while asking what it will take for it to end. But Weekes is far more than a hippy-styled, ‘peace and love’ musical messenger. When he’s not making music, he’s equally committed to his vision of making the world a better place, through his non-profit organisation, The Orphan’s Cry Outreach. The charity is dedicated to improving the lives of disadvantaged children around the world, via music, football programmes and more.

With his dedication to such worthy issues, one wonders what he makes of reggae’s more carefree elements; party tunes, ‘gal’ tunes and the like. “I think there’s a place for everything,” he says. “Sometimes people want to dance and have a good time. But I think music should also uplift and educate people and draw their attention to some of the issues going on in the world around them.”

“With the more violent elements of the music… I don’t know what would possess a man to write a song about killing somebody else. But you know, that’s his vibration. That’s just not the type of music I choose to make.” With much to say musically, it’s a good thing Weekes was never made to feel that not being Jamaican would somehow make him not credible in the world of reggae. After all, there are some closed-minded folks who feel that music can only be authentic when it’s spawned from its birthplace.

FOUNDATION
“That has never been an issue for me. And I always find it interesting when people make that an issue because nobody tends to say that hip-hop artists can’t be authentic if they’re not from America.” “Of course, Jamaica is the foundation for reggae. But I see the music like a tree: its roots are in Jamaica, but its branches have outgrown the yard and the fruit has landed in other territories.” “It’s the same with soca: people used to think that if you weren’t from Trinidad, you couldn’t make authentic soca music.” “But then artists like Alison Hinds and Rupee and Kevin Lyttle came along to prove otherwise.”

“I write from the heart and I speak about issues I’m passionate about. I believe that’s what really matters.”

DEIDEM is out now on Jatta Records.

REGGAE-REVIEWS.COM

 
After releasing perhaps the best reggae album of 2005, Taj Weekes returns with an early candidate for the best of '08 in DEIDEM. Although his unique vocals are the most immediately striking aspect of his work, Weekes remains one of the best lyricists in reggae today, reaching beyond typical reggae discourse to delve into abstract concepts, inner emotions, and new ways of delivering the same messages we've heard dozens of times before. To describe the cycle of global violence, for example, he traces it back to biblical times in Since Cain. In Kink and Crinkle, he relates the oppression of Rastas to the processing of hair, while Angry Language is an introspective journey into the battle to suppress one's rage, Dark Clouds laments global warming, and Propaganda War is a searing indictment of the press, proclaiming, "With no printing press, the lies we can't address. They steal away our joy and steal our happiness." Weekes' delivery is as heartfelt as his words, and his strong melodic structure ensures that listeners will stick around to appreciate the lyrics. Of course, the music from his band Adowa is a powerful complement. Aside from the Katrina-themed piano ballad Louisiana, it's chock-full of traditional '70s-style roots reggae, with a touch of folksy blues and a slinky electric guitar that creeps in every now and then. Weekes' is the sort of music I imagine Bob Marley singing if he were still alive today. It's smart, inspirational, musically vibrant, and just plain gorgeous. No reggae fan can afford not to know Taj Weekes.