48. Bob Marley and the Wailers, "Legend"

 

When I went to college long, long ago, every girl's dorm room contained an enormous jug of water, a plant desperately clinging to life, a mini-fridge full of Diet Coke, and this album.  I am not kidding, this and Prince's 1999 were the two most ubiquitous albums at my school, and it's not hard to see why.  This is one of the most comforting and uplifting albums ever made.  I think this is one of the few albums I've owned in all three formats, vinyl, cassette, and CD.  It's every white person's introduction to reggae and whatever qualms I have about compilations can get fucked, it's wonderful.

But I say "white person" for a reason.  Bob Marley was a fiery political activist who was keenly aware of the stark racial divides that undergirded the story of Jamaica and the Caribbean as a whole.  His native island, of course, was ruthlessly exploited by Europeans beginning in the 16th century, a legacy whose impacts are felt to this day.  And Marley wrote songs specifically dealing with this issue.  In "Slave Driver," on Catch a Fire, for example, Markey sings: "Everytime I hear the crack of a whip/My blood runs cold/I remember on the slave ship/How they brutalize our very souls."  

This album pointedly does not have those songs, and has been criticized as being a whitewashed version of Marley's music, made palatable for, say, white college students.  And that's absolutely true, and I want to acknowledge that and point it out and still be able to honor these songs as well.  (For more on the conflict this album poses, this piece does a good job getting into it.)

The first song, "Is This Love," reflects the album's overall summery, sunny feel.  Dedicated to Marley's wife Rita, it's a straightforward declaration of love, but with a pang of doubt; the man is not sure if he can really feel love.  "Three Little Birds," one of the five songs on here from Exodus, maybe Marley's finest album, is audible Prozac, a gentle reminder that things are going to turn out alright.

The most rocking song on here is probably "Exodus," from the album of the same name, a disco-hinted track that I cannot get out of my head.  It explicitly references the Biblical exodus as a reference for "movement of Jah people," that is, Rastafarians.  It's one of the few songs on here that are even remotely political, in that Rastafari is at its heart a religion with political goals.  Another is "Get Up, Stand Up," from Burnin':

We're sick and tired of your ism and schism game
Die and go to heaven in Jesus' name, Lord
We know and we understand
Almighty God is a living man
You can fool some people sometimes
But you can't fool all the people all the time
So now we see the light
We going to stand up for our right

(This song was the last one Marley ever performed live, in Pittsburgh, of all places, in 1980.)

There is one song that sounds unlike any other on this album and that is "Redemption Song," with only Bob's voice and his acoustic guitar.  It's so stark and unlike the rest of the songs that it's immediately arresting.  Written after Marley had been diagnosed with the cancer that would kill him, it's a contemplative meditation on his life and work and is also overtly political ("How long shall they kill our prophets/While we stand aside and look?") but also just achingly beautiful.

This album is, of course, one of the best-selling records of all time, and is second behind Dark Side of the Moon for most nonconsecutive weeks on the Billboard Top 200 chart (around 750 and counting).  I feel a lot more conflicted about it now that I know more about how the songs were selected specifically to appeal to white kids like me, but I will always love it just the same.  I've since gone back and explored Marley's earlier catalog and it's just as great, even better in parts, but this was my first real exposure to the artist and that's always something.

Is this album in my personal Top 100? Yes it is.