Paper Trail

1970s

Sweet Potato, MassMusic, April 1979

Roots/Rock/Reggae of Loose Caboose

by Linda Cameron

Along the Freedom Trail, a footloose band of New England Rastas called Loose Caboose is mashing down the Jerichoan walls of traditional Yankee reserve with Jah music from Jamaica, overhauled to quote "stateside reggae" or regional dub.

Nearly four years ago at a small jamming junction in Wendell, MA, the six-member I-and-I Caboose clicked together with bass, rhythm section, lead, and backup guitars and pulsating percussions, playing rock'n roll fortified with R&B, jazz, country, and funk, and a small mixture of Jamaican reggae.

"We were so loosely knit this is how the group got its name" said guitarist, harmonica player, and vocalist David Boatwright. "In the realm of pop music, we've touched nearly every area you can think of, from folk to progressive." Caboose began with drummer Jim Cheney and bass guitarist Allyn Dorr, who teamed together at the Cape as Roadhogg around 1973. Allyn's brother, guitarist Jonathan Dorr, later joined the band which became known as Caboose when they added a keyboard player.

"The keyboard player left a few months later, Boatwright related,"But the rest of us soon came along to fill the gap". They were percussionist Noo Pearson, Boatwright, and Ras Jahn Bullock, R&B dreadlocks from Massachusetts who mans the Congos and leads the wailing chants, soul style.

What inspired this assembly of homegrown R&B folk music country rockers to convert from Yankee grassroots to Caribbean roots rock? "Well, it began when we heard Eric Clapton's "I shot the Sheriff", said Alllyn Dorr. "Then we got the Marley original and from their derived more inspiration from Marley's revolutionary songs."

Caboose's reggae fervor accelerated with Marley's "Catch Fire", but was kindled back in 1973 when someone aired the soundtrack from-you guessed it-the Harder they Come. The more reggae Caboose heard, the more the band became convinced that roots rock was a medium for a new wave message in an age of increasingly crass commercialism.

"Let's face it", said Boatwright, "Traditional American music, even that's soul stirring R&B, Took on synthetic overtones, and contemporary rock is becoming more and more tin-canned. Reggae is the only music around they can move one's body and mind."

Boatwright admires Tosh and Marley and believes that groups such as Third World and Culture will come into their own on the pop music circuit. Currently "Now that We've Found Love" and "Cool Meditation" are having their days on the disco charts.

So where does one begin to market roots rock rhythms? In the sticks of Babylon, of course, where the seeds of national sensibility are sowed and take root. Backpacking in their drum kits and guitars, the six-man expedition of Yankee dreads have traipsed through the backwoods and valleys, livellying up the stone-wall Granite State and shaking the blue Vermont Hills with bluegrass stateside Jamaican rock.

"We had our own promo method, which was to scatter and plaster posters all over Maine, Vermont in New Hampshire countryside, wherever we were scheduled to appear," said Ras Jahn Bullock, the Toots Hibbert of the Bay State.

Emitting a low bellied chuckle as he thoughtfully munched his big Mac before joining other Caboose members on the air at W ERS (they were guests on Doug Herzog Strictly Rockers), he continued," some people came out of curiosity over the dreadlocks, some soaked up the music along the sun Caribbean island, and many figured we were importing exotic music from Beantown."

Ras Jahn is the only Caboose performer can trace his roots partly to Jamaica. "I come from a family of professional gospel singers. You know that reggae consists of lots of gospel music. My father is Jamaican, he chose to settle in Mass. You know, Mass. is Babylon to."

Undeniably so, given the exorbitant taxes, unrepresentative city, state and local government, inflationary living expenses, the 128 belt line with electronic logic manufactures an illogical traffic jams, and other everyday matters that are so Iree (like bank loans, mortgages, insurance rates, an insurance risk pools) that one can almost capture them in the song.

In the 60s, Ras Jahn dug into soul-searching R&B, did a stint with the Broadway cast of Hair, then shifted to the West Coast, touring with his own R&B group, Bullhorn. Then seven years ago he met a dread guitarist from Jamaica and through him discovered the doctrine of Rastafari.

"R&B was losing its effectiveness, as far as I could perceive. I was searching for music that seemed real and suddenly I found it." His renewed sense of inspiration took him to Jamaica where Bullock met and became friends with Bob Marley at the April 1978 political peace rally.

"Say what you may about Bob Marley. I know critics are laying into him for getting too commercial and so forth, but believe me, Marley is still the man, the revolutionary cultural hero in Jamaica. I actually saw him calm a threatening crowd that day by just raising his hand and saying, "be cool."

While Marley simmered the hot tempers of thousands at the rally, Ras Jahn hammered out the message of Rosta on the Burre drums on stage. Back in the States, when casting around for a group that was into rasta music, he stumbled into the Loose Caboose ensemble in Wendell. "It was a stroke of Jah!" He exclaimed.

From the north east to the west coast, the denizens of Babylon are opening up to the roots music of Loose Caboose."We're not raking in millions of dollars, but we are amassing followers. Already we're accumulating fan mail that we've little time to answer," said Ras guitarist Boatwright.

In the decay of I-only, the ability to draw mass support for I-and-I music is proof the positive expression. "Well, the so-called me decade is nearly over, and all I can say is that reggae brings people together" said Boatwright. Rightly set.

September 1979

Sept 12 1979

Local Color: Zion Initation

By Mark Rowland, the Real Paper

Thank Jah for Zion Initation. Their very existence probably merits a hymn or two, since Boston reggae bands tend to be about as rare as blond dreadlocks. I can think of only three other entries (Jamaica Hilton a.k.a. Jamaicaway a.k.a Sunrise counts as one), but even among this elite Zion Initation is in a class by itself. Part of the reason is sheer size (ten pieces), another the hip vocal trio of Ras Jackson, Ava Cunningham, and Danny Tucker. But what finally impresses is their combination of spiritual exhilaration and effortless musical grace, a combination that must be at the core of any top-notch reggae band. Their energy is infectious, too - within the last six months Zion Initation (loosely interpreted, the name means "meditation on the perfect spirit") has grown from virtual anonymity to an ensemble commanding a sizable bloc of loyalists, as demonstrated last week when they sold out a Boston Harbor cruise boat within days. In this city's highly competitive scene that's pretty impressive, especially for a brand new, previously unheralded ensemble. But then, Zion Initation isn't really new at all.

Lead and rhythm guitarist Ras Ipa began forming the Dorchester-based group more than three years ago. Newer members arrived through friends and through word of mouth, bound together by a strong Rastafarian creed and the unshakable belief that roots reggae was the most fulfilling musical approach available. "The way I see it, blues, punk, and rock don't really have much to say anymore," explains lead guitarist Edward Babbs. "For what they do say, they might as well be instrumentals."

In a way, Babb's explanation is perfectly logical - reggae is never just music, it's a way of life. Anyone who ever spent "serious" time with a group of Rastafarians can appreciate the folly of attempting conventional conversation. Ask a question about chord riffs and you'll get back a half-hour dissertation on the divinity of Haile Selassie - which is actually fine by me, because if the Lion of Judah really did inspire reggae, he deserves all the praise we can muster. (I'm just glad the Moonies didn't invent it.) And besides, how can anyone knock Rasta consciousness? Are against universal love? Racial equality? Freedom and understanding? African liberation? The intrinsic holiness of marijuana? No, of course not. And besides, true Rastafarians just happen to be about the nicest people on the Earth.

But alas, Boston enclaves are few, which makes Zion Initation's dilapidated three-decker near dilapidated Codman Square something of a spiritual as well as musical oasis. Graffiti praising the glory of Jah lines the stairway walls, sprinkled in with various other pithy observations (my favorite: "The Pope is the source of all negative vibes"), and eventually leads into a hot, crowded rehearsal room. A few Rasta fellow travelers are imbibing the proceedings, along with the ganja haze, while the band paces through its repertoire. This includes hoary reggae standards like the syncopated version of Paul Desmond's "Take Five" (someone should send Dave Brubeck a tape - he could use the seminar on rhythm) and some gently proselytizing Zion Initation originals like "This About It" (okay) and "I Didn't Know," the latter song about meeting a Natty Dread who turns the singer on to Jah. And so on. But the great thing about Zion Initation (and good reggae in general) is that once the music begins, the beat is so infectious that you believe. Well, I believe.

"We write about what we see around us," points out percussionist Ras Amen, "and about what can be done. Schools don't teach us history, they tell use we were slaves and before that we were wild men. We never learn about the roots of our power." As a result, several Zion Initation songs stress the beauty of African culture - the "Ethiopian garden" of Rasta lore - while tying in impassioned pleas for social justice. And their message has already had some effect. It can't be mere coincidence that Zion Initation is one of the few - perhaps only - local bands with a strongly integrated following, or that they remain popular in black Dorchester clubs (this Saturday, September 15, for instance, you can catch them at the I & S Function room at 986 Blue Hill Avenue) along with in-town Boston and Cambridge venues.

Like many "roots" reggae bands, Zion Initation isn't the last word in music technique, but their songs are infused with genuine emotion. Their textures are richer and more varied than a compact ensemble could ever provide, and several instrumentalists balance one another's ideas nicely - the tension between Ras Iphus's straight-ahead, Sly Dunbar-style drumming, for example, and the more exotic, African punctuations of Ras Amen. Or the sublime melodies of lead guitarist Babb played off against Ras Ipa's sturdy chop rhythms. As befits reggae, Iraka's thunderclap bass figures anchor the band, and the saxophonists, particularly Ritchie on tenor, contribute lots of neat melodic fills. (Hey, I'm just being a critic). But the singers are really something special. Ras Jackson's sweet arching tenor bears generous comparison to Leroy Sibbles, while Ava Cunningham boasts the ward, fervent tone and clean phrasing of a gospel artist. Danny Tucker, who double on alto sax, (and also has his own single "Take Us Home," recently released on Twigze-D records) lends the group some needed bottom - together, their harmonies are sheer delight. The fact that they're working in a form that values precision and is rarely ornamental only underscores their effect. And they don't intend to change that direction, either.

Because for Zion Initation, music is still basically an expression of what they see as a deeper spiritual quest. They've already struggled financially for years, yet none of them expresses the least desire to follow today's fashion a la Peter Tosh and dilute the sound for economic reasons. "The reggae groups that do that are only trying to build an audience," one of them them explained generously. "It's like they want to get a message across - especially in black culture, where everyone listens to either funk or disco. ...eventually, you have to return to the other side of reggae, the Zion spiritually side. They try to bridge the gap between pop and rock and reggae. We are roots reggae." Jah be praised.

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