Why haven't I heard of this deejay before?

This was the automatic response from anyone who heard 'Roots Rock Reggae' by Solo Banton on the Reality Shock compilation from earlier this year. The lyrics contained a narrative and the vocals had clarity and confidence. It was clearly the work of someone who'd earned his stripes.

When his story is revealed it's easy to see why he's such a consummate debut performer. He has been around the block and he knows the runnings. It must make him the ideal individual to work with.

"I'm lucky that I've learnt about the business from all sides. Soundsystem, record label and radio shows. Just as an example I know that, as a selector, there's nothing more disappointing in the world than receiving a shabby dubplate special. You're excited for every dub. So there's no way I'm gonna inflict that pain on someone else. Do unto others, and all that."

He was certainly a gracious interviewee and host. He also looks as burly and robust as he is self assured. However, the most confident individuals still need encouragement and support (even if they are called Solo). He may be an affable, upbeat character who has delivered an accomplished album, but he had genuine reservations about launching himself as an artist.

"I've always made music and done a bit of production as I had a label down here in Reading called Tigerman Records. One day I was doing a track and I asked Kris Kemist from Reality Shock to come and play guitar on it. I was just larking around inside the booth and I deejayed some of my old lyrics. I came back and Kris was like "you should deejay, you know!" As a producer I'd done vocal arrangements and worked on lyrics for other people, just giving ideas and helping with their songwriting. So I was already involved to a degree. But how I deejay naturally is old school. Once I get the mike in my hand and start relaxing, I just automatically go to that style. I wasn't too sure if that would ever work".

 

He shouldn't have been concerned. His emergence as a vocalist has done more than work, it's caused a minor sensation. His old school stylings are best illustrated on the blistering album track 'Old Time Something'.

"The whole track really gives me a old school soundsystem vibe and reminds me of going to a dance back in the late eighties. I don't mean necessarily a Roots dance, more a dance with Unity, Saxon, Coxsone or V-Rocket. That sort of era there, you know. You would hardly ever have a deejay vocal playing on a record, it was all singers. Cultural uplifting music. Deejays would chat live on the version. That's why I put in some of them old fast styles that we used to do in them days. Then I go on about "yes mi fren', way back den, right back den, when de men, used to play soundsystem, put the track pon di version...". It's my memories of going to a dance, just as a spectator or of actually being in a sound."

Soundsystem was where Solo made his name in Reggae music. Classic Wonder were one of the prominent sounds of the nineties, well known across the south of England and beyond. When I heard that their main selector was re-invented as an artist I was intrigued. The impending release of 'Walk Like Rasta' gave me an excuse to travel down to Reading to get the story.

"I was with quite a few sounds in London first. The main one was Majestic, out of Acton, West London. We'd play loads of Ragga and on the version we'd deejay and stuff like that. But it was a party sound, so when it got to certain hours we'd play Soul stuff and Rare Groove."

In the early nineties Solo decided he'd had enough of London's rat race and re-located to the provinces. True to his name he chose Reading, somewhere he had no connections Reggaewise or otherwise.

"I was here for like two years before I linked with a sound. I went to a few dances in that time and realised that I was itching to get back into it. Withdrawal symptoms, you know. So I joined with a sound called Classic Wonder, as a mike man originally. They were a Dancehall sound, but played everything. This is a small place, they had their following and were part of the community. We did big dances, weddings, parties and blues dances. So you had to be versatile. The talk of the town when I joined was that they were gonna do their first clash dance, for a cup. So they were cutting dubs for that and once they'd won, they didn't look back. The vibe for clashing was there. We played clashes with everybody like Luv Injection, Saxon and Rodigan. We was always ready for a clash."

That they were versatile and competitive was confirmed when they entered an early incarnation of the Unification Dub Cup. It's an arena for purveyors of hard core Roots and Dub. A long way outside the usual comfort zone of Dancehall sounds.

"All of us had come from Roots sounds originally. Down here at all the weddings, parties and blues dances we were still playing a lot of Revival and Roots tunes and we all loved that. So when the opportunity came to do the Dub Cup, we took it. We enjoyed every minute of it. When we were on our way to play Dancehall with Goldfinger or whoever, everyone in the sound van and their cars travelling to London, would be listening to tapes of the last Dub Cup session. No Stone Love or nothing like that! We got to the final and should have won it as well. Yeah a couple of wrong tunes got played and stuff like that ... it's still a sore point."

His uproarious laughter suggested that actually it probably wasn't. We were inside Solo's comfortably appointed set-up in his back yard. He uses it to work on music, write lyrics and talk business. His children call it the 'dreadquarters'. A storm was blowing outside and it began to sound as if anything in his garden that wasn't nailed down would be carried off by the wind. Solo raised an eyebrow, shrugged and continued with the story.

" I became the main selector and we were being called all over the country to play dances. All the artists from Jamaica used to come and play in Reading. Then the Central Club closed, which was a pain in the neck. Classic Wonder nearly disbanded at that point. A lot of the members left and we had to build it back up again with a radio show and regular spots in night clubs. It's still playing now with a younger crew. In a way I'm disappointed, but it's their time. They play a lot of Funky House and Dancehall, you know what I mean. I get the odd phone call now and then, but it's really self managing these days."

 

Once Kris Kemist became aware of Solo Banton's deejay skills, he became determined to introduce him to a new audience.

"Kris kept bugging me about recording, but I was reluctant to step forward and say that I was an artist. He said I should be on Myspace around the same time that I first voiced with him. I just wondered "am I actually good enough to do this?" Kris set it up for me and I really went into it. It made me realise that people were appreciating what I was doing. I'm still very surprised and grateful for what's happened to me."

In Rock and Pop, the fact that artists like Lily Allen or the Arctic Monkeys used the web's social network as a springboard to success, is old news. The age profile in UK Reggae has undoubtedly delayed such developments. Reality Shock are amongst the leaders in unlocking the internet's potential for independent Reggae set-ups. The Urban Sedated label discovered Solo Banton through his Myspace profile. They have since included him as the UK representative on the 'Global Reggae Selection' compilation and released the title track 'Walk Like Rasta' as a single. Kris Kemist also produced a series of 'Shock-umentary' videos that he put on-line to increase the visibility of the artists in the camp.

"Kris done a little video at his house. I was there and I chatted some lyrics. People were raving about it. Some guys sent a riddim and said they wanted me to voice the lyrics on it. I was like "me, really?""

It was a rough, eighties style, casio driven production from Leipzig based Jahtari. The resulting tune was 'Talk To Me', which was released by Maffi from Copenhagen. It was aimed at a scene that Solo was completely unaware of.

"The riddim shocked me. It sounded like something that I made in the eighties on a keyboard; the kind that done everything. It was nothing like the stuff I was producing at that time. Kris explained that it was their style, what they were listening to and that they were really busy with it. But it still didn't make no sense to me. Prior to it being released I did a show with them in London when Jahtari come over. I didn't know what to expect. I went there and I was amazed. A guy had an original Atari console and people in the crowd were playing Space Invaders and Frogger on this big screen behind me when I was on stage chatting lyrics. For the whole show they were playing those sort of digital riddims. The guy set up his laptop and he had a playstation joystick; that's how he operated. He brought an old analog tape deck thing to record it and he was going on about the sound it gives. That's when I realised that these guys weren't looking backwards, they were connoisseurs and experts in their thing."

 

The 7" of 'Talk To Me' sold out in two weeks. This and other successes have lead the formerly reluctant artist to produce a confident and cultured new album. The track entitled 'Jimmy' is a good example. The rhythm, built by Mafia & Fluxy, is courtesy of Joyful Noise productions and the lyrics come with a twist. Initially it appears that Jimmy is an English version of the archetypal 'Johnny Too Bad' or 'Bad Boy Johnny'. Until Solo flips the script and turns the track into a celebration of the men who work a nine-to-five, provide for their families and shun the gangs and drugs life.

"Society has tended to portray success and even happiness as having all the riches. Anyone who hasn't got that is seen as worthless. If you haven't got everything, you're nothing. That's not the case at all. You can be happy and fulfilled doing a nine-to-five, knowing that you earned that money to feed your kids. Let's be real, I'm not gonna talk fantasy. It's great doing a show and coming back with some money, it's wonderful. After so many years of it costing you, it's amazing. But I'm just as proud when I come home from work with my hands dirty. I'm not having to look over my shoulder. This money is mine and I can shout it as loud as I want. There's a lot I can say 'bout that."

The number of people able to survive on Reggae business alone is dwindling. So you know that these kind of lyrics draw from his immediate environment. One of the 'old school' aspects of the album is Solo's original English take on the topics that he discusses. Tracks like 'Economic Crisis', 'Herb Story' and 'Chalice Haffi Blaze' follow a tradition that was started by artists like Macka B, Tippa Irie and Smiley Culture; but there are very few contemporary exponents. When Solo says "you allow the banks to gamble with the people's monies, then with ease, retire to the sun and the seas, when back home there's no money for the OAPs" we know exactly what he's talking about. When he chats about red Rizla and black hash, it's our own experiences he's reflecting back. In the nineties, with General Levy, Top Cat, Sweetie Irie and Glamma Kid, UK deejays approached an album project with some ambition. So has Solo,

"I sing about what's around me, where I live. I'm talking Patwa, but I'm English. Several tracks were recorded specifically for the album. We wanted it to work as an album rather than just a collection of tracks we'd already done. The main goal is to let people hear all the different sides and let them know that I'm a serious artist. It makes a statement."

There isn't the financial backing that there once was, or the pressure and expectation of cross-over success. However, Solo's album certainly shares some of the swagger. Despite his veteran status it could easily have shared the title of Sweetie Irie's debut from all those years ago - 'DJ For The Future'.

 

December 2009

 

Solo Banton Myspace: www.myspace.com/solobanton