A delivery man arrived the other afternoon with a box
full of whole-foods from the UK. I congratulated him on finding us. He said
that he'd had to ask around, but I was known around these parts – a creator of
BDs, wasn't I? Bandes dessinées, or
strip cartoons. I laughed and told him 'nothing so glamorous; just a plain-old
writer'. Chinese whispers at work even in the heart of the countryside.
If I were a creator of BDs, and
weirdly it was my first creative flowering (as a very young child, I used to
draw strip cartoons of Western characters I dreamt up), The Gladiators would
make rather a good subject for a cartoon book for adults. This strange genre is
popular in France and Belgium), and The Glads were popular in France well into
this century.
Apparently, the
future reggae vocal trio met up as masons on a building site – perhaps even a
government yard in Trenchtown – and they would harmonise songs over their
sandwiches. What a lovely place to start that would be: lead singer, Albert
Griffiths, trying out his self-penned songs on acoustic guitars with future bass
player, Clinton Fearon, and future rhythm guitarist, Gallimore Sutherland. Later,
Griffiths takes his songs to the legendary Studio One and records them with an
early version of The Gladiators. When one of the original members leaves soon
after 'Hello Carol' tops the Jamaican charts, Griffiths remembers the singing
masons and recruits Clinton Fearon. Then, when the other original member also leaves,
along comes Mr. Sutherland, sans hard hat and sandwiches.
Soon after, the
new Gladiators are discovered by Virgin, as reggae fever breaks out in the
British Isles. Which is where I, the author, come into it. I'd caricature myself,
R. Crumb style, drooling over a copy of the Virgin Front Line sampler,
with a thought bubble from my head as I greedily read the sticker, An album
for the price of a single. (This'll be the best 69p I've spent in ages!). I
fall in love with the two tracks from Trenchtown Mix Up, 'Looks Is
Deceiving' and 'Know Yourself Mankind', and go to see them twice in quick
succession in different venues in Brighton, each time dancing holes in my shoes
to the stream of simple, irresistibly catchy reggae. Along with the Bhundu Boys
from Zimbabwe, a decade or so later, the two concerts will prove possibly the
most joyful, infectious music ever witnessed on stage.
After four great
albums for Virgin, the boys make the mistake of recording a fifth with Eddie
Grant and Aswad in London. The label decides that the magic has gone and cuts
them from their roster. But does that stop them? No, it does not. They find another
label and cut Back To Roots. My first wife and I change the song 'We are
the warriors' to 'We are the worriers' and adopt it as our theme song. They go
on producing easy-skanking 'reggaemusic' all through the '80s and '90s, but while
my first marriage goes down the pan, I have weightier concerns than the steadily
waning career of The Gladiators.
I catch up with
them again in Cash Express, Brive, around 25 years later – in the form of a
defective boxed set of three-rather-than-four of their 21st century
releases, plus a DVD of a live set in Montmartre, Paris. It's good solid stuff
that lacks the memorable quality of the Virgin albums. And the live concert has
rather too much audience participation. Clinton Fearon has left, never to
return, in the mid '90s to record a succession of fine solo albums, but
Griffiths, Sutherland and a core of brilliant reggae musicians – including
Ansel Collins and 'Wire' Lindo – have continued to tour in Europe ever since.
When Griffiths' health packs up, along with his distinctive lead voice, he
hands the baton on to two sons, Al and Anthony. Gallimore's son Vernon joins
sometime later and, in 2013, this almost unrecognisable gladiatorial group
records an album featuring Droop Lion, whose uncle is... David Webber, the
first of the original, original Gladiators to leave back in their Studio One
days. Whereupon, I could wind things up in a final drawing – with old man
Sutherland looking like the wreck of the Hesperus – headlined by the Jamaica
Observer, 'The Gladiators back in arena'.
Naturality
has only just entered the family fold, courtesy of the local junk shop. But
I've been dancing with a wide grin on my face for longer than I care to
remember to the title track on an indispensable compilation CD, Dreadlocks
The Time Is Now. Ever since consulting my friend and junkiest vinyl junkie,
a leading expert on Jamaican phonetics, I've heard 'Naturality' as 'Naturally
tea' (slightly elided to 'Nat'r'lly tea') – which probably explains why
Griffiths sings 'Nat'r'lly tea makes me the man that I am'. Certainly something
there for the Tea Marketing Board to consider using as a strap line.
It's already
fast becoming a reggae favourite high up on Mount Zion with the likes of the
Mighty Diamonds' Right Time, Burning Spear's Man In The Hills and
Culture's Two Sevens Clash. Powered by a band that includes one of the
greatest drummers on the planet, Sly Dunbar, the first side is concentrated
riddimical nourishment, while the second side is only slightly diluted by
comparison. Clinton Fearon contributes 'Get Ready', which featured on the third
Virgin Front Line sampler, an evident victim of '70s inflation as 69p
rocketed to £2.15. The final track of the album continues the gladiatorial
tradition of covering Bob Marley songs: a lolloping six-minute version of
'Exodus' gets a slight lyrical make-over as 'Africa, the country of Jah
people'. Otherwise, the songs are all Albert Griffiths'. This was the man who
once wrote a song called 'Mr. Baldwin'. I've never heard it, but love to think
of it as a reggae homage to that most inert of British prime ministers, Stanley
Baldwin. Well, his 'Counting My Blessing' contains the wonderful quirky couplet, 'I'm
counting my blessing/I'm counting it one by one'. Figure that.
Griffiths also
takes the lion's share of the vocals, his slightly pinched timbre a little akin
to that of Lee 'Scratch' Perry. Fearon and Sutherland contribute what the
former described as 'an answering kind of choir harmony'. Their falsetto
answers to the musical questions posed by Griffiths is indeed 'a sort of
trademark there' – as are the relentless rhythmical drive, the heart-stopping
key changes and the catchy melodies. They add up to something musically very
special.
The dedication in my BD of the mighty Gladiators might be Griffiths' delicious words of admonishment from Trenchtown Mix Up, 'Chatty chatty mouth, be wise and know your culture'.
