Neither time nor space will allow me to talk about what I learned about the ceevees (culture vultures) in this town. Reliable sources close to the reggae scene here really helped me to better understand the players and the pawns on ‘dis plantation called St. Louis. For example, I now understand why the name “Nighthawk” so accurately describes that record label. The hawk is a bird of prey. Night refers to the method of attack: in the darkness, or when people are unsuspecting. Jamaican recording artists such as the Itals, Joseph Hill, The Gladiators, Justin Himes and so on, were signed onto the Nighthawk label. They all jumped at the chance to “make it in America.” For the money they received for their talents and hard work, you might say they were recording sharecroppers of sorts. In other words, they damn near worked for free.
There was an invitation to hook me up with one of the Itals, currently in Germany, to confirm their treatment by the Nighthawk folks. A trans-Atlantic call over this? It’s not that serious. It was further explained that people like Professor Skank and Bob Schoenfeld have tried to control the reggae market for too long. They came along at a time when whites had the resources and connections, and Jamaican artists had to depend on them to get their music out.
Now, a new generation of Jamaican artists has learned the ropes, knows how to record, manage, etc. In the spirit of self-determination, they have created their own labels. The old guard ceevees don’t want to give up their turf and are sabotaging any efforts of these young, creative entrepreneurs to splash out onto the market. The ceevees aren’t even willing to share the markets - they want it all. Their days of control over reggae music industry are marked. Our music, like the rest of our culture, is universal. We don’t mind sharing it but people can’t own it. The first beneficiaries ought to be those who created it.
Angry brothers and sisters have been talking about what to do about this situation. I’ve heard everything from picketing the upcoming shows at Mississippi Nights to opening up our own reggae venue. Let’s not react to just Schoenfeld’s letter. Let’s not play the old game of divide-and- conquer. Whatever people agree to, the commitment has to be to follow through past the emotions. The culture vultures are only doing what we allow them to do.
Postscript: The two columns by Jamala about the disrespect of the Infrared Rockers produced a firestorm in the community. The issue was debated for several weeks in the St. Louis American. Here are excerpts from a few of those responses.
Professor Skank
I was recently made aware of Jamala Rogers’ hostile and appalling article concerning myself… and last month’s Reggae Fest. Ms. Rogers’ article was completely out of line and offensive…I’m not into the reggae scene to create enemies. I’m into it because of my sincere love for the music…These words are intended to end the absurdity created by the ignorance of Protein and Ms. Rogers.
James “Protein” Williams
…What I said that night was that there was a band that was not invited to the local Reggae Fest for the third time. The omitted band is not only the oldest reggae band in town, but also the most experienced and well-traveled band. I said their omission was not right and if they were not invited to the next Fest, I wanted nothing to do with it. I called no one a racist nor did I call anyone any names.
C. Anthony Brasfield
The St. Louis American made a commendable decision to go forth with Jamala Rogers’ column. It is abhorrent to see Ms. Rogers assailed by local music people…who feel these topics fall in the category of “kindergarten journalism.” Let’s move forward with the issues.
Anaalu Nomil
Jamala Rogers’ articles about the omission of one of the area’s most traveled reggae bands was proper journalism…Discussion is important if there exists a perception of unfair treatment…good journalists provoke thought. Open, aware minds resolved issues. Professor Skank and Protein Williams should work together to advance reggae music in St. Louis.
From Blackface to Black Faces
March, 2002
As Hollywood gets ready to give top honors in the movie industry, black folks cross their fingers and toes that we will be duly represented among the Oscar recipients. Historically, Tinsel Town has looked over great performances by African American actors and actresses. I say “looked over” as opposed to over-looked because overlooked implies an honest mistake. If we look at our relationship with the Academy of Arts and Science since its founding in 1927, it may reveal what we can realistically expect on Oscar night.
Our struggle to get into Hollywood has been a tortuous one, from blackface to black faces. The Oscar committee looks at these movies through the eyes of individuals. Race and gender of actors, the subject matter, and the conditions going on in the world at the time determine their choices. There have even been times when total subjectivism colored awards to white actors. For example, many observers believe that James Stewart’s Best Actor award in “Philadelphia Story” was a sympathy vote because Stewart lost out the year before in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” Elizabeth Taylor was given Best Actress for her role in Butterfield 8 because of a near fatal illness.
This kind of sympathy never seems to be extended to blacks. This year for only the second time in Academy history, three of the Best Actor and Best Actress nominees are African American performers. There is Denzel Washington in Training Day, Will Smith in Ali, and Halle Berry in Monsters Ball. This happened for the first time in 1972 when Paul Winfield and Cicely Tyson were nominated for their starring roles in Sounder and Diana Ross was nominated for her leading role in Lady Sings the Blues. Paul, Cicely (one of my personal favorites) and Diana all walked away empty-handed that year. Some of you may be thinking, “Didn’t we win something in 1985 with the mega hit, The Color Purple?” Uh-uh, that was a mix of leading and supporting roles. Whoopi Goldberg was nominated as Best Actress, while Margaret Avery and Oprah Winfrey were nominated for Best Supporting Actress. They, too, went home disappointed. All three, plus Danny Glover, had stellar performances in The Color Purple, which received Oscar wins in several other categories.
Here is the short of it. In the almost seventy-five years since the Academy has been picking, their pickings of us have been slim. Only 39 nominations for lead or supporting roles by black actors and actresses have been made during that time. For Black Trivians, you know that Hattie McDaniels was the first African American to win an Oscar. She got Best Supporting Actress for her role in Gone with the Wind. Another Oscaree didn’t come along until Sidney Poitier in 1963. He was the first and only black actor ever to win a Best Actor. That’s one for the brothers and zero for the sisters. In the last 20 years, Lou Gossett, Jr., Denzel Washington, Cuba Gooding, Jr., and Whoopi Goldberg have received Oscars for their supporting roles. By the looks of what roles and what movies receive Oscar honors, one might conclude that serious acting, with a positive role and plot is a dead give-away that no Oscar should be expected by black artists. I’m talking about roles like Denzel in Malcolm X and Hurricane, Angela Bassett in What’s Love Got to Do with It, and many others throughout movie history.
If I had only one chip to play now, I’d put it on Will Smith in Ali, so that an honorable figure such as Muhammad Ali would be elevated on yet another plateau. Odds are that a renegade cop running amuck or a spineless female whose breasts received more attention than her acting are more likely winners - if we have any.
Postscript: Will Smith was nominated for his role as Muhammad Ali but Best Actor went to Denzel Washington for his role in Training Day. Halle Berry won Best Actress in Monster’s Ball.
Hair Me Out
February, 2003
Some years ago, I was commissioned to write an article in defense of black hair, when the now-defunct Trans World Airlines (TWA) was hassling African American women about wearing cornrows. Cornrows, whose origin dates back to ancient Mother Africa, are thin rows of braids woven into intricate patterns and designs. Sometimes they are mistakenly referred