Ragga Muffin

The smoke cleared for a second, all I could see was dreadlocks and red, yellow, green, the now-pop Rasta flag. I forgot who the band on stage was, something like Aggrolites or Majestic Soul. Their name didn’t matter as long as those soothing reggae rhythms didn’t stop.
Just one more puff. The disappointment was almost completely gone. It boggled me: How can you change a line-up so dramatically and not cause a riot? These are the peaceful fans of famous Ragga-Muffin Fest, but dropping Barrington Levy and Alpha Blondy is on par with stomping on a stranger’s foot. Yeah, we all got our feet stomped on and kindly forgot about it. Must have been something in the air.
The show went on. Rebelutions rocked a rolling reggae set that would of put the Statue of Liberty in motion. My limbs were swinging like tornado tree branches, fast-enough to clear cut a wide circle among the audience. I liked their roots approach dashed with a hint of So-Cal and sprinkled with keyboard dub riffs. It was only 4:30 when they closed.
I think it was the Aggrolites who played next. They did their “Dirty Reggae” thing. It was good and all. Certainly, their show was no substitute for Barrington Levy or Gentleman. The crowd seemed to agree, only slightly swaying to the lead-singer’s frenzied attempts at a high-powered climax. It could only get better.
Gregory Isaacs, reggae’s smooth talker, was up next. At first he didn’t show, which left crowd members (including me) screaming, “Where’s Gregory”. I saw him come around the corner, fashionably late. He silenced everyone with a genuine smile, goddamn it he’s good. He launched into several of his classics, Red Rose, Special To Me and All I Have Is Love. It was weird when all the women in the audience fell over. Gregory’s getting old, but he moved the whole convention center with his song Rumors.
Midnite brought their ultra-roots reggae to the stage, with a heave-ho from the audience. The reggae march started once again. The St. Croix crew stewed some real reggae brew, but unfortunately their hit ‘Bushman’ didn’t surface.
By this point feet were getting sore, one can only hot step so much. When Eek-a-mouse rolled out in a cowboy get-up, I didn’t foresee too much boot-skootin’ boogie. All through his biddy-binging, we gave it our last rooty toot. It was a pretty standard Eek-a-mouse show.
Reggae is transitioning through an interesting time. The real classics of Bob Marley’s generation are starting to retire and new wavers are tweeking the sound. Ragga Muffin Fest was an opportunity to witness originals. Who knows how many more shows 58-year-old Isaacs will play. I appreciate that. But, if there’s one way to spoil a show, change the lineup.