Redemption Song Chapter 7 "Take Me Home, Country Roads"

Yeah.

Listening down the river all my friends there.

Hey, how you doing?

What's going on?

Hello.

Good day.

How are you going?

I'm going to Little London.

You know where that is?

Little London?

Sure.

Of course.

It's past Sav.

Yes, exactly.

You know Jamaica?

Yeah.

I'm heading that way.

I'm going to Negril.

You need a ride?

Oh, you're going to Negril?

Sure, I'll take a ride.

Okay.

Hop in.

Sure.

Thanks.

Sir.

Hey, what's happening?

I'm Henry.

Hi, Henry.

I'm Maxine.

Nice to meet you.

Hi, Maxine.

The pleasure is all mine.

Thanks for the lift.

It's getting late.

I'm a nursing.

No sign of the bus.

Oh, you're welcome.

I know those buses.

Yeah, they're probably busy running someone off the road like me.

Not really a joke.

You don't sound like you're from here.

Well, you're a tourist.

I guess I'm kind of in a no man's land.

Not really a tourist.

Definitely not a local.

How about you?

You live in Little London?

No, I live in Mandeville now, but I grew up in Little London.

Oh, Mandeville.

Okay.

Nice.

I'm going back for my uncle's funeral.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

I'm sorry to hear that.

How about you?

What are you doing in the Grill?

Taking a vacation, I guess.

I'm going to bury someone, too, in a way.

Oh.

I lost a very good friend, too.

Sorry to hear that.

And a very good job.

And maybe a wife.

Come on, man, it can't be so bad.

Well, it won't be when I get to Negril.

What about you, Henry?

Where's your home?

Where's my home?

Yeah, exactly.

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.

Anytime.

Brian and I took a road trip to Negril.

No matter how many people we squeezed in the Neva, there was always two things that made the journey with us from Kingston.

First, a soccer ball that we usually bought in Halfway Tree.

Before leaving, Brian would scribble his stage name, Little Rizzla, on it in big letters with a black Sharpie.

We would have it to kick around on the trip and then leave it with some local youth on our way back to town.

Brian considered it a promotional expense.

I think I still may have the receipts in a draw somewhere.

Our other must have item was a copy of the Tootsie Maitel's 1974 album in the Dark, cranking from the cassette deck of the Neva, the ultimate Negril road trip tape.

Side B begins with Toots soulful rendition of John Denver's song Take Me Home Country Roads.

The song covered everywhere from Brazil to Brussels and Hanoi to Hawaii, and in each instance, like Toots version, West Virginia is substituted with a place that the singer longs to return to.

And over the years the song has transcended geographical locations, has come to represent a state of mind of being an homage to a forgotten time.

For Toots Hibbert, the country road leads to west Jamaica, past the carefree and breezy parishes of Saint Elizabeth and Saint James, and towards the rugged coastlines and turquoise waters of Hanover and Westmoreland.

And once you get to the end of that road, you've reached Negril, a place where everybody belongs.

Looking back, it must have been a sign from above the night I graduated from Lawrence High School In June of 1983, Toots and the Mattels were playing about 25 minutes away from me on Long island at a club in Rossland named My Father's Place.

Opened in 1971 on the premises of a former AMC bowling alley that boasted the largest dance floor in Long island, by the 80s, it was one of the most important concert venues in the entire country, a club, the New York Times would say, influenced music for decades to come.

My Father's Place was run and managed by Michael Eppie Epstein, a Long island institution head shop owner, rock promoter, club impresario.

He was also the co host of Alternative rock station WLIR 92.7's punky reggae party, which aired every Sunday night at midnight.

More than just a reggae radio show, it was a sonic celebration that developed a cult like following on among more musically adventurous Long island teenagers, kids like me.

The show is also the cause of never ending battles between me and my father who insisted I get to bed early on a school night, worry more about college and less about music.

Although in the end the knowledge I gained from punky reggae party was a lot more useful than high school geometry.

EPI Epstein was not a big fan of COVID bands.

So over time My Father's Place became a proving ground for original undiscovered talent, nurturing and promoting emerging singer and songwriters looking to become the next big thing.

Thousands of aspiring acts passed through its doors, many whose careers would long outlast the humble club where it all began.

Names like Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, the Police, Talking Heads, and Toots and the Maitels.

Eppie was a hardcore reggae fanatic.

Used his club and connections to help expose Jamaica's top talent to mainstream US Audiences.

Which was the reason that my friends and all our parents were celebrating our high school graduation at my father's place.

After all, there was no one more mainstream than my Long island parents.

Henry, are you kidding me?

You really want us to schlep to a reggae show on your graduation night?

Can't we do something normal like have a nice dinner at Al Steiner's or Casablanca?

And it did take a little convincing, but eventually they caved.

If your father said it's okay, then fine, but we're not staying out all night.

Maurice, do you hear what your son wants to do for graduation?

And, of course, what would result in the quintessential 1980s reggae experience.

Toots tour bus broke down on the way from Boston, and the show, originally scheduled for 10pm was now slated for 2am the club offered refunds for patrons who wanted to leave.

But they also announced that Toots was on his way and he would be performing his full set once he arrived.

Oh, my God.

This is a nightmare.

Henry, me and your father are going to go home.

You stay with your friends, have a nice time, but we're not going to be out here all night.

After dinner, all our parents decided to head back to the South Shore.

Happy graduation.

Love you.

But me and my crew, the Schwillhounds and the Spliffmasters, we weren't going anywhere.

And from 3am until sunrise, the godfather of Reggae, Toots Hibbert, took us on a marathon musical journey.

A living history of Jamaican music, from Mento to ska and Rocksteady to roots.

Channeling the energy of James Brown and the soul of Otis Redding, Toose Hibbert commanded that stage with his own distinctive sound and style, delivering the same high impact performance for a handful of holdouts as he would have for a stadium full of fans, which is what made him Toots.

He gave us one of the most memorable nights of our teenage lives.

Even sticking around after the show to sign autographs.

We went home starstruck.

It was a fitting and symbolic end to our high school days.

The end of an era.

I don't think my younger self could have ever imagined that that same man, Toots Hibbert, would one day become a friend.

Or even more like family.

Because a little more than a decade after graduation night, Toots would be the very first singer that would commit to appearing on my record Fire on the Mountain.

The most respected and well established Jamaican artist of the era would take a leap of faith and a lot less money than he usually charged and agree to sing on my album.

He'd let an unproven producer choose the song, select the musicians, pick the feel and tempo of the rhythm.

That was something virtually unheard of when it came to Toots, a reputed hands on perfectionist.

And for me and my career, that was a game changer.

Took me one step closer to my dream.

It turns out that stalking Toots over the years and showing up uninvited and lingering around his recording sessions at Gussie's studio actually paid off.

Once the news spread on the Jamaican grapevine that Tootsie the Maitels signed onto my project, that the Godfather gave me his blessing, well then a parade of reggae a listers followed suit.

Steel Pulse, Dennis Brown, the mighty Diamond, Judy Moat, Grammy winner Michael Rose, all lent their talent and credibility to the project.

And I never fooled myself for a second.

If it wasn't for Tut stepping up when he did, none of it would have happened.

Frederick Toots Hibbert was the son of Seventh Day Adventist preachers and grew up singing gospel in their church choir.

Since he was a young boy, his voice always outpowered everyone and everything around him.

So it didn't take long to know that singing was his true calling.

Still, young Toots faith would be tested early in life and by 11 years old, he would lose both parents, find himself orphaned and all alone and with no place to go.

He was sent to live with his brother in Trench Town, one of Kingston's most notorious and violent communities.

A place where most children his age would have buckled or broken under the pressure.

But Toots saw opportunity.

It was in those same tenement yards where he discovered music had the power to heal.

When he sang, he felt no hunger, no loneliness, no pain.

Music became the way he could transform a world of darkness and despair into light and hope.

I knew Toots had a rough upbringing.

I had heard the stories firsthand from the scrappy amateur boxer who fought his way out of the slums one punch at a time, one song at a time.

And like so many other singers desperate to escape the confines of ghetto life, Toot signed away the rights to his early music in what were suspect deals with long term ramifications that were too complex for a simple inner city youth to understand.

And while Toots had more right than anyone in the game to hold a grudge, to be angry and resentful I never saw him display anything but humility and gratitude for the life he was given and for what reggae music allowed him to accomplish.

Toots Hibbert showed the world that the toughest guy in the room isn't the one who can throw the hardest punch.

It's the one who could take it.

When it came time for me to choose the track for Toots to record on my album, the first tune that came to mind was Catfish John, one of the songs on the project that was not written by the members of the Grateful Dead, but had become a staple in the Jerry Garcia Band's live show.

It's a story told from the perspective of a man reflecting on his younger days and despite his mother's opposition, the friendship he developed with Catfish John, a former slave in River Hobo who, in spite of all the hardships and abuse he faced, approached life with hope, grace and dignity.

The narrator goes on to sing, Mama said don't go near that river don't be hanging around no Catfish John Come the morning I would always be there Walking in his footsteps in the sweet Delta dawn Born a slave in the town of Vicksburg Traded for a chestnut mare Lord, he never spoke a word in anger Though his load was hard to bear if you replace the Mississippi Delta with Kingston Jamaica and Catfish John with Toots Hibbert, the song is life imitating art.

Just like the antihero of the 1973 Alan Reynolds and Bob MacDill song, Toots was bought and sold like a product abused by the system.

He was even robbed of his freedom and humanity when he was imprisoned on trumped up marijuana charges that were designed to capture and stifle Jamaica's most creative artists.

They took everything they could from that man, but they couldn't take his dignity.

And they never broke his spirit, which is what made him Toots.

Whoa, Henry, that's some story.

I loved it.

You really made the ride go fast.

I'm glad you like it.

I got a million of them, but you gotta get going.

Thanks again for the ride.

Yeah, you're very welcome.

And I hope everything turns out okay with your wife and the music thing.

Well, thank you for the advice.

I'll probably take it to heart, okay?

Really, go home and write it down.

Come on.

Whoa, Musician.

What's happening, man?

A long time, you know.

Henry.

Where's the singer?

Brian.

Hey, what's happening, junior?

Yeah, it has been a long time, Brian.

Well, he's gone back to Colorado.

He's home right now.

What?

We are someone, Colorado, anywhere.

May not stop playing cd.

You know, fire on the mountain, mash up the place.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

The record's doing well.

I know, but tourists love it, you know.

You know what?

I just don't want to talk about the CD or the music.

Just don't want to talk about that right now.

I'm on vacation.

I want to clear my mind.

You don't mind, right?

Okay, man.

Yeah, thanks.

So, okay, no worries.

Well, if you don't want to talk shop, may I understand, man?

No music.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

What is it exactly that you don't want to talk about?

Hey, look at Kimmy.

Mind your own business.

You know, stop listening to people conversation.

What did I tell you?

Calm down.

Calm down.

Please.

All of this excitement is not necessary.

Just calm down.

Henry, this nosy girl is little Kimmy.

She's a waitress over here.

So, Junior, tell me something.

Why are you getting all worked up?

Please go and make two daiquiris for the Italian couple for me, please.

Thank you.

This is Henry from Kingston.

Well, hi, Henry from Kingston.

My name is Kimisha, but everyone around here call me little Kimmy.

Well, hello, Kamisha.

Very nice to meet you, little Kimmy.

It's an adorable little name there.

So you say a music producer, right?

Kimmy, you didn't hear me say the man don't want talk about music?

Leave him alone, man.

What did I tell you about pestering customers?

I'm not being nosy or anything.

I'm just asking a simple question.

Hey, it's okay, Henry.

Sorry, man.

It's okay.

Don't worry.

Don't worry.

I'll put in your harder.

You just head next door to the hotel and I'll have little Kimmy bring your food over, yeah?

Yes, she can bring it over.

I should be in one of the first two cottages right there on the water.

They'll tell Kimmy.

So, what do you say?

The usual?

Yep, the usual.

Cheeseburger well done, with fries.

Coca Cola in a bottle.

Yeah.

You got the same cook?

Okay, then bring the usual.

It's nice to know some things don't change.

Blessings, Enrique.

All right, you.

Nice to see you.

Yeah, I'll see you later on.

Yeah, come in.

Come on in.

Yes, Henry from Kingston.

Here's your dinner.

Your cheeseburger, your fries and your cork.

So let me ask you something.

You don't eat Jamaican food?

Well, actually, I have.

I have a Jamaican wife, so I eat a lot of Jamaican food.

And your.

Your cook has the best cheeseburger in Jamaica, So I'm not gonna pass that out.

Okay?

I know it's kind of weird, me asking you this, seeing that we just met each other, but.

May I beg you?

A little fearful, right?

Yes, go ahead.

What's that?

Nothing is going to surprise me anymore.

My auntie, she teaches at the Green Jail School.

That's where I'm from.

And I was thinking you could actually stop by the school and teach these kids a little bit about the music industry and what you've learned and your experience.

I think my aunt would love that.

And I think it would be a great experience for everybody.

What do you think?

You want me to go to your aunt's school and speak to the kids?

It would be a thrill for the kids to meet a music producer in our little community right now.

The music business is screwing me over.

I don't want to.

I'm the wrong person.

I'm definitely the wrong person to sit down with any kids right now.

Come on.

Okay.

Okay.

But just think about it, all right?

Please, Kimmy, let me.

Let me eat in peace.

So what are you doing in Negril by yourself anyway?

Usually people who come here, either they looking for something or they forgot something.

Why are you here by yourself?

Listen, you think you know everything.

Well, you think you know everything, Kim.

You met every tourist.

Not everybody comes here because they're looking to find themselves or lose themselves.

Just on a vacation, relaxing.

Please.

Okay.

Whatever you say.

All right.

Let me enjoy my cheeseburger in paradise.

Anyways, I'll be going on the beach with the Italians this weekend.

We're going to watch a live music show.

Reggae show.

Okay.

You're interested?

You're invited.

Who's.

All right.

I'll think about it.

I'll definitely think about it.

Thank you.

See you tomorrow.

And from Kingston.

Okay.

Have a good evening.

Yes, good night.

We'll talk soon.

I can't wait.

I definitely picked the wrong week to quit.

Reggae.

Mama said don't go near that river don't be hanging around no catfish.

To drum.

Come the morning I always be there Walking in his footsteps in the snow so long ago we the three magnolia blessed Home Got to sleep was where the snow captain was a river Corbo he lives at times by the river Looking back I still remember When I was proud to be a fan and now I say don't go don't go near the river now don't be hanging around don't come tomorrow and I always be there Walking in it Footsteps in the street I've been walking in it I've been walking in it I've been walking in it night and day.

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