Redemption Song Chapter 1: "Brian the Lion"

See, it turned on the tv.

Asha, honey, be.

Be quiet, Sweetie.

Hello?

Hold on.

Hello?

Sarah, hold on.

Sarah.

Hello?

Asha, Quiet.

Daddy's on the phone.

Be quiet.

What's.

What's going on?

My God, I didn't even know you had the number here in Florida.

How you doing?

Say hi for me.

Uh huh.

What?

Is he okay?

What's she saying?

What's wrong?

Wait, don't hang up.

Sarah.

Wait.

Henry, what's she saying?

What's wrong?

It's Brian, honey.

Oh, my God.

Is he gonna be okay?

No, he's not.

You mean he's dead?

He's not gonna be.

Oh, no, not Brian.

Because his 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 Roots Land podcast stories that are music to your ears.

The book of Deuteronomy in the Old Testament says that Mount Nebo was the final resting place for Moses and where some believe the Bible's greatest prophet is still buried.

Located on the head of a summit that faces Jericho, on a clear day, you can see all the way to the holy city of Jerusalem.

From Mount Nebo, Moses watched the people he helped deliver from bondage that he guided and protected all those years in the desert finally march into the sacred land promised to them by their eternal father.

A land of milk and honey that Moses himself was only allowed to see from a distance, forbidden to enter, A punishment for angering his God.

Imagine how he felt, the tired, battle worn general who had given his all, risked everything to accomplish his mission, only to spend his final days as an outcast, alone, with no glory, no fanfare.

Those who study the scriptures, they say Moses never gave up hope.

He never stopped believing the Lord would let him enter that promised land.

I picture him standing on that mountain peak like a proud lion surveying his territory, waiting for his moment.

A moment he knew was going to come.

It was just a matter of time.

Mount Nebo is also the name of the cemetery in Colorado.

That's the final resting place for my friend Brian.

Under a polished marble tombstone that reads, baruch Chaim Blessed Brian, the son of Yetzor, Brian the lion.

I take comfort knowing that whoever decided to engrave those words knew my brother well.

My general, the leader of the pack.

A pack that in the end, he must have felt abandoned him when he needed us most.

When he needed me most.

I mean, it's one thing to know you Have a friend in trouble and not lift a finger to help, which, believe me, I've been guilty of.

But to have a friend in trouble and not even know they're in trouble.

To be so caught up in yourself, in your own pursuits, that you ignore the whole world around you, all the problems of everyone, everything you love.

In 1997, the year Brian died of that overdose at a gas station in Boulder, after what I would find out was a long battle with addiction.

I had two albums on the Billboard reggae charts, produced my dream collaborations, was featured on the COVID of magazines and on radio shows.

I was in the promised land.

And yet my general, the one who led me here, well, I can only ask and pray for his forgiveness.

I never meant to leave him all alone on that mountain.

I always thought we would finish this journey together.

Come on, Henry.

Listen, we all love Sia, but.

I know, I know.

I just miss her.

But try to get into the Vibe.

Tonight we're going to see your favorite artist.

I am feeling the vibe, man.

Listen, don't sweat it, man.

If it's meant to be, it's meant to be.

Not that cliche.

Please.

Yo, Henrique, man, you sound like you're whipped.

Yo, you need to find an art gal.

Forget some good ghetto slam Take your mind off of see, you know Ringworm.

Come on, man, stop.

Give me a flipping break.

Yo, Ringworm, are you so crew you have to pay for bumpum?

Hey, you don't see Henry K's in love Left them on.

Oh, Dominic thought you was our rude boy when they turned so soft Run me from Bowie and left the man.

Bread don't listen to those guys in the back seat, man.

Try to catch the vibe, you know.

Come on.

I don't listen to those idiots.

What are you talking about?

All right, agreed.

Enough of the gal talk.

Enjoy the show.

Bless me, bless me Jaja Bless me, bless me, bless me so they can't curse me Blaze, fire fire Fire, Fire.

Fire, fire My time spent in Jamaica and in the world of reggae had been punctuated, accented with an eclectic array of singers, artists and friends that offered me this newfound perspective, not only on the music, but on history, on culture.

They taught me not to take everything at face value, to dive deeper into the mysteries of life.

Half the story has indeed never been told.

But the true, objective thinker, they can fill in the blanks.

There was reggae pioneer Bob Andy, who became a mentor, father figure, important life coach, saxophone virtuoso, deadly Headley Bennett, My music guru, friend, confidant, ragamuffin, Singer Half Pint, a conscious voice that gave me guidance, spiritual protection.

And of course, Brian the Lion, the one who encouraged me to take a chance, led me on this journey to Jamaica, the land of wood and water, each individual essential in their own way.

Remove just one from the plot and there is no story.

Yet.

While living in Jamaica, and probably still to this day, the artist that had the biggest impact on me, gave me the most inspiration, brought me the most joy as a reggae fan and music lover, was a young Rastafarian singer that hailed from the parish of Manchester, a mountainous region in central Jamaica.

An intense shooting star.

Born Garnett Damien Smith, he started performing as a teen under the name Little Bimbo, but didn't release his first single until 1985 on Sugar Minot's Youthman promotion label.

By the late 1980s, he had become a devout member of the Rastafarian faith, at which point he switched from DJing to singing born Again as Garnet Silk.

And his songs were a reflection of a deep spirituality, an undying love for his Lord and Savior, Haile Selassie, the conquering lion from the Tribe of Judah.

And like most of the island, the Armor Heights crew, myself and Brian included, were completely mesmerized by Garnet.

I mean, imagine the odds.

The very same year we came to Kingston.

In this golden age of dancehall dons and divas and sparse, syncopated drum beats that had scantily dressed girls gyrating to obscene lyrics, a gleaming gem like Garnet Silk would emerge with conscious, uplifting lyrics that sang to a higher power, songs of righteousness and redemption, with a voice that quivered with a natural tremolo that had the ladies fainting in the aisles, gangsters wiping away tears, and Rastafarians blazing fire like never before.

Just as we came to Kingston to break into music, Garnett Silk, a once in a generation artist, was about to redefine reinvigorate roots reggae like no other singer had in decades.

He would capture the mood, the imagination of reggae lovers across the globe, who finally had a response to the haters and the genre's detractors who had claimed that reggae died with Bob Marley and the ones that never stop asking when the next Jamaican superstar would arrive.

Well, we had our answer.

Garnett Silk.

Wow, Henry, wasn't that just.

That was incredible, man.

Amazing.

What a time.

Dude, give this guy a couple years.

Nothing's going to hold him back.

Are you kidding me?

He's getting better by the day.

He gets better every time we see him.

I Mean, he was just, what a performance.

He's the real thing.

Garnett's the future.

No doubt.

Henry.

Man, you know, I got to go back up to Colorado and, you know, I got to deal with my situation and.

I know, I know you do.

Make sure the Visa straight.

And, you know, I know you got to get your Visa.

You haven't been back yet.

I know you got to deal with it.

Just seeing Garnet sing, man, and, and how real he is, man, it just makes me wanna, I understand, like, find my voice.

Oh, I totally understand.

It makes me want to just really dedicate myself to this man.

He's inspirational, you know, Find my real voice.

Well, don't take too much time.

Yeah.

And I, you know, that's what I'm gonna work on when I'm up in Colorado.

And, you know, I just want you to like, you know, hold down the fort while I'm gone, you know.

Oh, forget the fort.

It's gone.

It's history.

Look out for Harris and Tex and these clowns in the house.

Oh, my gosh.

You know, I know, you know, I'm hard on you and you know, I'm a tough critic, but you know, I understand.

Especially when it comes to music, you know, cuz I really, I, I know your potential.

Thank you.

You know, I know you do.

And I really, you know, thanks.

I really do.

I do believe in you, man.

I know you do, Brian.

That means a lot to me.

Thanks.

And remember, I, I, I set up that meeting with Eddie Fitzroy.

You know, just make sure you check him and, and just, you know, I.

Promise I'm gonna go down to his office.

Really.

Put yourself into it.

I promise I will, Brian.

You know, with Garnett and everything, you know, culture, music, that's, that's the future, man.

Well, that's, that's what we want to do.

That's why we're here.

Just make some good music.

That night, up on the roof at 10 West Armor Heights, overlooking the shimmering lights of Kingston City, that would be the last time we would hang out and burn a spliff together.

As much as I wanted, waited, hoped for his return, Brian would never come back to Jamaica.

He said the reason he went home was that he needed to find his real voice.

But little did he know he had it within him the whole time.

It was heartbreaking.

The world would never get a chance to hear him blossom into the singer he could have been, into the artist he should have been.

And it left me with an empty space because Brian was my voice.

And now that he was gone.

I didn't have one, you know.

Broken dreams line the streets of Kingston and broken hearts fill the skies above.

And if you would have looked up not long after Brian left Jamaica, you would have seen another bright and brilliant star fade way too soon.

The irreplaceable Garnet Silk, reggae music's prodigal son, would risk and lose his life before it even really began.

When he'd run back into a burning house trying to save his beloved mother trapped inside the inferno.

Those who witnessed the fire said there was no way he could have saved her.

But after his escape, Garnett refused to stand by and watch.

He fought off those trying to physically restrain him and charged right back into the flames.

Neither himself or his mother survived.

The events of that day, including the cause of the fire that took Garnett's life, are still shrouded in mystery.

An explosion blamed on a misfired gun shot by a careless relative.

An explanation that has sparked never ending conspiracy theories and unanswered questions.

The same ones that surround the unexplained deaths of other black revolutionary artists.

Young Garnett Silk was on the cusp of stardom.

Just signed a major record deal with a company that recognized his talent, saw his potential to be a conduit for musical, political, social change.

What Jamaica and the world lost in that fire can never be replaced.

As 1993 rolled in, I was feeling isolated and alone.

More than once ready to pack it in, head back to New York.

But I loved Kingston.

Was absorbed in the music and culture.

Dreamed I could make a living doing something I was so passionate about.

Besides working and being around the veterans of the business.

I still believed that somewhere in the tenement yards and ghettos of Kingston, the hills of St.

Anne's the slums of Flankers or Shantytown, was the next Bob Marley, the next Peter Tosh, the next Garnet Silk waiting to be found, dreaming for their voice to be heard.

So on January 14, 1993, long before there was an X Factor or the Voice or American Idol, I held a low tech audition in an overcrowded aluminum shed on the unfinished grounds of the Jamaica Culture Yard, a local community center on Red Hills Road.

Sure, I was looking for new singers and talent, searching for Jamaica's next big thing.

But I was also looking to make a name for myself, introduce my brand to the island, put Kingston's old guard on alert.

There was a new kid in town, and I didn't have to play by their rules.

No one ever gave me the rule book.

Youngsters between 12 and 19.

I bet you're glued to your television sets right now, trying to find out all about this wonderful opportunity.

Well, a very special guest, Henry Carrio, we call him Henry Kay for short.

And there's a very special event going to take place soon and Henry is here to tell us all about it.

Singers Audition Cultural yard Ferrari Thursday, January 14th that's next Thursday, isn't it?

That's actually tomorrow.

Yes, Tomorrow is the 30th coming up sooner than we think.

Tomorrow, it's at Red Hills Road.

41 Red Hills Road.

And actually we'd like all teenagers to call down beforehand at 929-6107.

The audition will be tomorrow, basically between 6pm and midnight.

And it's an audition for singers only.

No DJs.

I'm sorry, the.

We're not going to have DJs.

And really a lot of people are seeing that 93 is going to be the comeback of the singer, with Beres and Garnett really carving the way.

And this is just to encourage young people, people who may have been intimidated by DJs over the last few years and not getting into the music business, but this is the time now for them to get involved.

Singers, this is your year, really.

And if you have a dream, tomorrow at the Culture Yard is a good time to come down and really get a chance to sing for people who make a difference in the business.

It's interesting that you've said it's the year of the singer because people were wondering how much longer the DJ thing could continue and whether or not the DJ ethos would just consume what reggae used to stand for before, which was, I don't want to say DJ is not conscious, but I mean, you know, it was protest music that was conscious.

Revolutionary music.

Yeah.

Reggae has also had a reputation as being a revolutionary music.

You know, some DJs do touch on that aspect of it, but I feel like really the way the reggae market is set up in the world, it's almost two separate markets.

You have the ones that really love the DJ music, you know, the hardcore Jamaicans and a lot of the hip hop people in America, the black American market, really loving the DJs now because it's a large crossover.

But you had an audience for the past 20 years, really the Bob Marley audience, let's call them, that's been supporting reggae music.

They've just been kind of sitting around waiting for new stuff to come out.

But I find that the younger people, not the teenagers now, but the people who are just about to get into the teenage stage.

They're looking for more Bob Marleys to come forward.

They're not really.

I just heard that the new Bob Marley box set just went platinum up in America.

Million discs sold.

Yeah.

The young people, I mean, as me, as a young person growing up in America, and I find a lot of other people who don't get a chance to come to Jamaica and don't get a chance to experience King the way they do it is through reggae music.

They listen to a Bob Marley record and it takes them here.

Yeah.

What I like about the whole.

The way the reggae music business is structured internationally is that the foreign producers, mostly American producers, come here to Jamaica to scout local talent so that you get the raw, original, you know, born land.

People in the business, in the mainstream of the business.

You've produced some local artists yourself.

Yes.

Tell us about that.

Yes.

Right now, I'm currently finishing up an Eddie Fitzroy album we produced.

The first five or six singles are done already.

The first one's been released, getting a lot of airplay.

Love the People Want, which I'm very happy.

I'm very glad that Eddie went with me to produce the record because he could have chosen any producer in Jamaica.

Really, what we're really going for is a fresh kind of sound.

A combination of different kinds of music.

Hip hop, reggae, the whole crossover thing.

So we're really looking forward to putting out a really solid album with Eddie Fitzroy.

Recently.

There's a single coming out of my Henry Kay label down in Jamaica.

Willie Oneblood and Tony Rebel.

They're together.

They're together.

Willy Oneblood's actually singing and Tony's DJing on it.

So we're pretty excited about that.

I've worked with Bob Andy, who is a giant in the business.

The first song I ever had written and got recorded was Bob Andy singing it.

So that was a big honor for me.

And then Half Pint also is another artist I've been producing recently.

And you're looking for fresh sounds, epic, cultural yachts.

Yeah, we're looking for the young, the new, the next one.

Who's he gonna be?

Or she.

It's open for men and women, actually.

Okay.

If I was between 12 and 19, perhaps I would venture down myself, but I think I've lost it.

Perhaps you can just end off with an appeal here for all those youngsters who are interested and who perhaps are so shy and they think they're gonna go up on stage and freeze.

No, no, you're not gonna freeze on stage.

Believe me, once you get up there.

You find it in your.

In yourself, really.

Please come down tomorrow between 6 and 12 to the Culture Yard.

Or again, call ahead 929-16107.

And we feel like the best and the brightest of Kingston are going to be there.

If you can just quickly touch on real talent.

How do you identify real talent very quickly?

I mean, what looks a lot of different things.

I mean, it's not only vocal qualities and singing, it's also attitude.

It's also look, someone who's going to work as a person with a record company and not be very difficult to work with its personality.

I mean, it's a full package, really.

You can't put your finger on one thing specifically.

Henry Kay, thank you so much.

All the best.

Thank you very much for having me.

Well, stay tuned.

We've got more interesting features on Morning time.

It's amazing that 30 years later, not much has changed.

Maybe 2023 will be the year of the singer.

If anybody knows any talent between the ages of 12 and 19, you can feel free to contact us at rootslandnation.com rootsland nation.com we're your culture, culture.

The Roots Land podcast is produced by Henry K in association with Vicebox Studios.

Remember to like, share, share and subscribe.

And please support our show by downloading the Roots Land original soundtrack, available on Amazon, itunes or wherever you purchase music.

So join the Roots gang on Roots Land.

Yes.

Rasta Henry Kate Productions.