Forbidden Love Chapter 6: "Pass the Kutchie"

Yo, Adley.

You have some visitors.

I'm still dressed up by the washroom.

Thank you, Henry.

It doesn't smell great back here, Sia.

What do you expect?

It's a reggae beach bar.

There must have been a thousand people here last night.

But I thought you said Edley was one of our best musician.

He is.

Didn't he write some of reggae's biggest songs?

He did.

Why is he living in a.

Why is he living in a shithole cottage behind a beat up beach bar?

Yeah, I wasn't gonna say it.

Yeah, exactly.

Welcome to the wide world of reggae.

This is your first lesson, because righteousness govern the world.

Broadcasting live and direct from the rolling red hills on the outskirts of Kingston, Jamaica, from a magical place at the intersection of words, sound and power.

The red light is on, your dial is set, the frequency in tune to the Rootsland podcast.

Stories that are music to your ears.

It was a typical Kingston Day in 1970 when deadly Headley Bennett showed up early for work at 13 Brentford Road.

Being prompt was something he learned as a boy, sometimes the hard way, from the nuns at the Alpha Boys School, a vocational boarding school run by the Catholic Church that took in trained, refined generations of Kingston's most vulnerable children.

Kids like Felix Headley Bennett, who without Alpha, wouldn't have had many options in life.

After leaving school, Headley got his dream job as a saxophone player, a skill he also learned at Alpha and later mastered by playing in the music group Sound Dimension, the in house band for the groundbreaking Scott and reggae producer Clement Coxin Dodd and his Studio One label.

Sound Dimension was perhaps one of the most important influential groups in Jamaican music.

Often compared to Motown's legendary Funk Brothers, they played hundreds of sessions, thousands of songs for Coxon's Studio One franchise, a small independent label that grew into a major powerhouse, earning millions in revenue for Mr.

Dodd.

Meanwhile, many of the musicians that helped build his foundation, they were not as fortunate.

Deadly Headley was a sniper, a musical sharpshooter that was called in when Sir Coxon needed a killer in the studio for just a few English pounds.

Headley, the hired gun, along with his partner, trombonist Vin Gordon, brought in the heavy artillery and always delivered, writing, arranging, recording, endless and timeless hit horn phrases and hooks like raindrops from the Jamaican skies.

Headley was happy for the work and loved making music.

And though he didn't save much, he could pay his rent, stock his pantry.

Being somewhat naive and very trusting, Headley never realized when he was getting his meager little checks what he was actually giving up.

Time will tell.

One of the songs recorded that session in 1970 by the Sound Dimension was a bass heavy Rocksteady instrumental track that would be released on the Studio One label with the title Full Up.

The song kicks in with a teenage Robbie Lynn's catchy solo organ riff that repeats twice, after which Deadly Headley sax joins in with a simple soulful counter melody, a slow motion sca phrase that plays off the downbeat and perfectly complements Robby's organ riff.

The song is a reggae standard, its musical hook one of the genre's most identifiable, an understated classic that's been covered countless times as an instrumental and its music used as an accompaniment for thousands of original songs.

One of those songs recorded on the fulp rhythm was the smash hit Pass the Kutchi, performed by the Mighty Diamonds and released on the Music works label in 1981.

An international herb anthem celebrating the proper etiquette for burning ganja and passing around the kutchi, which is a calabash smoking apparatus used in Rasta religious ceremonies, the song took Jamaica, then the world by storm, putting the Mighty Diamonds and the Music Works label on the map.

It also brought Robbie Lynn and Deadly Headley's timeless riffs at the core of the song back into the spotlight, although their names were never mentioned in the songwriting credits, not even on the B side instrumental.

Then in 1983, the UK Reggae Boy Band Musical Youth recorded a sanitized G rated version of the song without the marijuana reference, renamed it to Pass the Dutchie, it climbed all the way to number 10 on the Billboard pop charts, selling over 5 million copies along with licensing deals and movie sync rights.

The corporate fat cats at the labels and law firms who did nothing to contribute to the creation of the song, they were cashing in, earning millions in publishing revenue, while the musicians who actually wrote the compositions, they were struggling to survive.

It seemed everyone was passing around the Kutchy and taking a giant hit except the ones who actually packed the bowl with the herb.

It's not that these musicians were robbed as much as they were hijacked of their intellectual property, misinformed, taken advantage of by immoral music executives who wanted to build bigger studios, own larger catalogs, consolidate power in the industry to keep the politicians from changing the islands vaguely and one sided copyright laws that favored the wealthy studios over the little musicians and artists.

I'm not saying these producers weren't entitled to the bulk share of the profits.

After all, they did build the studios, cover the costs of the sessions, pay the Musicians.

But even if they didn't want to share a small slice of the pie with the foundation artists who gave so much to help build their empires.

Even the mere crumbs would have kept Deadly Headley from having to spend his golden years in a shithole cottage behind a beat up beachfront bar.

The funny thing is, in all the years I knew Headley, I never once heard him complain.

He was actually thankful.

He felt blessed and honored that these melodies that he wrote that came from his head and heart had such an impact on the music and touched so many people.

Without the Deadly Headleys or the Bob Andys or the Slim Smiths or Delroy Wilsons or any of these elders that made the sacrifice to pave the way for Jamaican, for Third world music to be accepted and celebrated in the mainstream, you would have never had the Shaggies or Sean Pauls or Shenzias.

Selling tens of millions of units globally.

And so successful they can gift their producers $100,000 sports cars.

You would never have these white Cali roots reggae groups, their nonstop tours with truckloads of sold out reggae and Rasta inspired merchandise.

You would never have reggaeton stars from Puerto Rico or Afrobeat singers from Ghana.

Wearing diamond encrusted jewelry and watches worth more than most of these early music pioneers earned in their entire lifetime.

No, musical soldiers like Headley don't get the gold or the glory.

They spend their days in the fight.

They don't have wills or leave estates to their children and grandchildren.

They rarely own homes or even cars.

And sometimes they leave this world with just the clothing on their back.

But Deadly Headley had more class, more character in one note from his saxophone.

Than entire songs and catalogs from some of these nowaday artists.

And what Headley does leave behind makes him immortal.

Headley.

Hey, what's going on?

Oh, gosh, Henry, good to see you.

Great, man.

What's happening?

Good to see you.

Yeah.

This is my girlfriend, Sia.

Hi, Headley.

Nice to meet you.

How you do, miss?

I hear nice things about you.

Nice to meet you, Henry.

She pretty.

You better hold on to this one.

I better not let her go.

Oh, yeah, Headley, that's a little old school today.

You know, the girls make their minds up for themselves.

Yeah, especially this one.

Oh, is that a problem?

No problem.

I'm just giving Headley some background.

So, Headley, how's life treating you, man?

How you doing?

Well, you know, I'm taking a rough life.

Easy.

How you like it over here?

You Miss Kingston?

I don't miss Kingston.

Too many bad men, Too much hustling.

You know, you look great right here.

Life is simple.

And I get to play my saxophone every night.

And that's life for me.

Nothing complicated.

When I look out into the crowd, I see white people, black people, tiny people.

They are smiling and enjoying the music.

That energy, that is all I need to make me happy.

I don't need much.

I know you don't need much to be happy, Headley.

But you deserve the world.

Time alone.

Time will tell.

If you are ready, I will clear your plates and bring the check.

Uh huh.

We're about ready.

What do you say, Sia?

Yes, thank you.

We're ready.

I see you enjoyed the lobster two nights in a row.

I love lobster.

Yep, she loves her lobster.

Are you coming back tomorrow as well?

No, we have to go back to Kingston, unfortunately.

You're heading back to Kingston?

We'll have a safe trip back.

Come back to Barbie Barnes when you're back in Negril.

We will.

Thank you.

All right.

Thank you again.

Hey, these mosquitoes are chewing up my ankles.

You ready to get out of here?

Yes, I'm ready.

You know, Henry Headley is such a sweet man.

You think he's happy living back there?

He's not unhappy.

And it's what he can afford.

It's on the beach.

He gets to play music every night, which he loves.

Okay.

You know, he's not cut out for that grind of Kingston nowadays.

Yeah, these musicians, they gotta be hustlers.

That's not Headley style.

That's true.

What do you say now that you know what the music business is like?

You think you can take life living in one of those cottages, you know, Henry, Behind a beach bar?

I think I'd be happy living anywhere with you.

Oh yeah, and those mosquitoes.

Well, as long as I have a net and some repellent.

But you know what?

Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Hey, I'm not getting ahead of myself.

No rush, remember?

This is Jamaica.

Soon come, man.

Right.

It's not that I don't want happiness it's just that something always come along to mess it up I'm just afraid I can't take another heartbreak well, I.

Can'T see what can go wrong On a night like tonight Night.

I'm really sorry.

We're leaving tomorrow.

Oh, yeah.

Look at it.

This place is paradise.

The star, the ocean, the beach, the wave.

Yeah, you know, it's a trade off.

Can't say I blame Headley.

Look how beautiful.

I feel a million miles away from Kingston.

Yeah, this is our place up ahead.

Yo, boss.

You have to stay down from the beach.

Zin.

You can come up here with Ariana.

Sorry.

Oh, no.

We're guests at the Ho.

We're guests at the hotel here.

Listen, I don't care what you want to say.

Henry.

What I'm saying.

No.

What do you mean, no?

She's with.

She's a guest.

Also came from Kings.

No, no, no.

What am I really feeling?

To your room.

No, she's a guest at the.

She.

We're both staying here.

I don't know what you got in your mind here.

No, Henry, listen.

What am I really saying?

Listen.

What do you.

Listen.

Security.

You got the wrong.

Tell you again.

Listen, bro, listen.

We're going to the room.

I don't care.

What the heck?

Oh, listen, man, listen.

This is freaking ridiculous.

You just.

You just insulted her, man.

You just insulted a freaking guest here.

Yo, Henry.

All right, Shut his mouth.

Hold up.

If he really know what's good for him.

See a baby.

Calm down.

How insulting he is right now, all right?

The man's an idiot.

Obviously, he's.

No.

You don't think I'm a guest here?

Doesn't understand something else.

Untrained.

Come on, let's.

No, Henry, this is insulting.

I'm heading up.

Come on.

See ya.

Go away.

Henry.

No, I don't want to talk.

Please leave me.

Open up.

Come on.

Why you mad at me?

I didn't.

I'm not mad at you.

It's just.

I'm humiliated.

That was embarrassing.

I.

I know.

I don't want to talk right now.

I.

I understand.

It's.

It's uncalled for.

Imagine, just because of the color of my skin, you think if I was a white girl, he would stop me?

Look, he hasn't stopped any of those.

White girls, you know?

Imagine a fellow Jamaican treating me like that.

Look, don't take it so hard.

It's.

It's just because it's resort.

It's.

It happens in these places.

Come on.

I mean, after all, look at you and look at me.

You know?

You're beautiful.

He probably thought, there's no way I could ever get a girl like you, you know?

Henry, come on.

Don't get it.

Upset about it.

I don't know if we can be happy together because I'm in my country and people are looking at me like.

These guys are entrained.

They just see it, you know what.

I'm trying to say?

Just because I'm with a white.

Come on.

You're the one who said don't get ahead of ourselves.

Don't.

Let's not.

This is kind of life.

Let's not worry about this now.

We.

We can expect.

Then come on, Open up and let me in.

No, I don't think I can.

We can be together.

Come on.

Sia, I.

I understand, but.

And there's no way you could possibly understand.

Would you believe me if I said I did?

Maybe one of the few people in the world who do.

Open up.

Let me tell you a story.

So let's give thanks and praise to the most high God Jarastafari Selassie.

With no apology.

SA.

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