My very first memory is meeting my dad. I was small and because he worked in America, I only knew him from the photo that sat on the mantelpiece. It’s because of my dad that I made every effort to become a musician. He said to me, “You should find a decent job, because if you make music, you’ll never eat a decent meal in a decent restaurant.” Well, I’ve eaten some nice meals in some nice restaurants!
I know my dad is proud of me. He never told me to my face, but he would brag about me to his friends. To my face he’d say, “Are you still trying to play that guitar?” That was our running joke. I made a point of giving him a copy of every release and production I’d ever made, to the point where if I wanted some of my old stuff, I would have to go to him to get a copy. Even then he’d only let me borrow it.
I was scared of moving to London. I’d done four years of secondary school in Barbados before I came in 1965. I’d heard it was cold and that worried me. When I got here, I couldn’t get to grips with having fish and chips wrapped in newspaper. I thought it was so strange to be eating ink and oil. Nobody in Barbados would do that. And I hated having to wear shoes. First time my dad caught me walking around with no shoes, he told me, “You can’t do that here, son – you’ll catch a cold!”
Playing the guitar is enduringly cool. Liking the Beatles helped. Liking the Rolling Stones did, too. But if there was one thing that helped a boy from Barbados be accepted in south London, it was being able to play Jimi Hendrix solos.
Me and Linton Kwesi Johnson are very similar. It’s what has helped us collaborate successfully for so long. We believe that all men are equal. We believe that social injustice is a crime. We believe in free speech. And we believe in the unity of mankind. We also believe that the police are not so kind as they would have you believe. Actually, Linton is currently recording a poem about the deaths of black males in police custody. It’s called Licence fi Kill.
I look at Black Lives Matter and think we’re winning. We’re not gaining as much ground as we should, but we’re winning. We’re making people in authority take notice of what we’re saying. There are too many examples of police wrongdoing to just turn a blind eye. For years, the police were stopping and searching young black kids going about everyday lawful business and trying to provoke a physical response.
I’m still angry about the six months I was jailed, wrongfully. That said, while I was in prison, I wrote a number of songs, vented my anger on them and came out and got a record deal with EMI. So I guess they can keep their compensation.
Bob Marley was stand-offish. You had to know him before you could get into a conversation. Our band Matumbi supported the Wailers once. They didn’t get a very good soundcheck and when they came on stage there was loads of feedback. Our set sounded just fine. Because of that, journalists were more favourable in their reviews of us than them. Our drummer, a huge Wailers fan, was horrified.
Dennis Bovell’s remix of Swanky Modes by Jarv Is is out now