In line leading into the Belly Up were people ranging from 20-50-year-olds, nearly every race and economic status were accounted for, from dreads to Dolce & Gabbana. I could smell the Mary Jane that clung to almost every person as they approached and waited behind me. It was a cool summer night in Aspen and it was time for Toots.
We piled into the underground club. The anticipation was tangible. Everywhere I looked I heard wishful whispers “I hope they play look in the mirror”, “You think they’ll be super old” “ I wonder if he’s as good as was 10 years ago.” Toots, the leader of his counterparts the Maytals, was now 69 but had been touring on and off for the majority of his career. Knowing this I was no skeptic, their music moves and groves and that’s something I know to be true. Although their charted success surrounds the 60’s growing up with a single mom and a Jamaican housekeeper, I dubbed their music timeless
Fittingly, I purchased a rum and coke and headed to the center of the GA. Three feet away from the microphone. One by my one the Maytals came out, the crowd hollered and the bass and kick drum quickly followed. They began with their biggest hit, or at least most streamed, Pressure Drop, as if to mock us saying here’s what you came for but here’s why you’ll stay. The scene was set OJ drummer and lead guitarist Paul Douglas, and Carl Harvey, in between contemporaries, a keyboardist and two stunning Caribbean back- up singers. They played through the classic reggae riff two times until the MC announced the lead man. Toots, came running onto the stage wearing what seemed like a rattlesnake leather jacket and pants with red detailing, a durag and chunky black Oakley shades. Was I caught off guard by his appearance? Yes. Was I bit apprehensive in singing along with him during the first few repetitions of Pressure Drop? Yes. But did I then start dancing, and by 5 minutes into it do a 180 and realized I needed to somehow emulate this swagy icon? Also YES!
As the show went on I’m proud to say I sang along to every word. They were captivating. I had no need to get another drink or check my phone. Simply, because their music was spotless, stimulating, and most of all a clear established shared experience among the band. The way they wondered into song from song highlighted their biphonic continuity. The attention to the sudden hits and ska solos was evidence of their history and connection. Although divided in nature, Toots clearly being the frontman, they performed as one. There was no Toots, and the Maytals, and the newer members, there was just one entity, one sound; Reggae.
Before playing 54-56, Toots removed his glasses transforming him suddenly into a wise old man. The music stopped and he began to talk in his thick uplifting Jamaican accent. He spoke about his time in Jamaica, the level of poverty which he, the Maytals, and songs all came from. Nearly tearing up while contrasting it to the level of fame and fortune they now all revel in. Before the audience had the chance to get sentimental over the pride that was in the room, he belted “Give it Up Mister” and we replied “Yeah.” The energy thereafter was explosive
It was as if the legends of reggae had made Belly Up their classroom, teaching us Reggae, lecturing our souls about movement. Head bopping, hips swinging soul shining reggae. I left the concert on a high, that lasted for days.
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