Ragga Muffins Festival nurtures reggae's roots

Eric K. Arnold, Special to The Chronicle

Monday, February 26, 2007

"Who likes roots music? Who's a roots lover?" asked dreadlocked master of ceremonies Spliff Skanking. It was a purely rhetorical question, seeing as how almost every single person in the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium was there specifically to hear reggae music of the traditional variety. Nevertheless, the crowd let out a mighty roar, like the iconic Conquering Lion itself.

In recent years, dancehall -- an urbanized variety of reggae often compared to hip-hop -- has broken through to mainstream audiences via the accessible efforts of artists such as Sean Paul, Shaggy and Damian Marley. Yet while their crossover success has attracted a youthful audience perhaps more familiar with Young Jeezy than Yabby You, roots reggae remains at the essential core of the genre.

The 26th Annual Ragga Muffins Festival, which rolled into San Francisco on Saturday after stops in Long Beach and Santa Cruz, presented a case in point. With a lineup consisting of one legendary group after another, the event offered a stamina-challenging eight hours of undeniably authentic reggae music. And though some of these groups' heyday was three decades ago, their message seemed as relevant as ever.

The notion that the roots legacy continues for a new generation of fans was underscored by the performances of Culture and the Gladiators, two of reggae's best-loved vocal harmony groups. Both bands featured several original members, but were led by the sons of singers Joseph Hill, recently deceased, and Albert Griffiths respectively. Kenyatta Hill, in particular, injected a vibrant energy into well-worn classics "Stop the Fussing and Fighting" and "Tell Me Where You Get It," and 30 years after it was written, "Two Sevens Clash" still reverberates as a natty, dread-full apocalyptic warning.

Apart from local opening acts Luna Angel and Wisdom, the closest thing to a dancehall artist on the Ragga Muffins bill was Eek-a-Mouse, the 6-foot-6 "sing jay" known for his patois vocalese. Although no longer a current hitmaker, the Mouse's stage presence was as large as ever on songs such as "Wa-Do-Dem" and "Operation Eradication."

The new-school roots of revivalists Morgan Heritage and Midnite also went over big with the crowd. With long dreadlocks flying to and fro, singer Peter Morgan emphasized the universality of reggae on "Don't Haffi Dread." On "Liberation," he pointed out that although Bob Marley, Peter Tosh and Jacob Miller are gone, the Rastaman vibrations continue through contemporary Jah disciples like Capleton and Luciano. Meanwhile, St. Croix's Midnite showed why they've amassed a cultlike following with a set of molasses-thick reggae riddims accentuated by the biblical utterances of singer Vaughn Benjamin.

After a performance by Steel Pulse, which touched on the group's recent comeback album "African Holocaust," as well as favorites such as "Rollerskates" and "Raid Blues Dance," the venerable Bunny Wailer -- the last remaining original member of the Wailers -- brought the evening to a close. His set offered few surprises. Still, one couldn't help but join in on the familiar refrain from Marley's "No Woman, No Cry": "Little darling, please don't shed no tears." It might be cliched, but it's difficult to imagine another song more appropriate to end the show than "One Love," which neatly encapsulates the roots reggae credo into six words: "Let's get together and feel all right."