Taj Weekes: ‘We all have to hold each other’s hand and walk the path together.’

Taj Weekes: ‘We all have to hold each other’s hand and walk the path together.’

2013 is going to be a big year for St. Lucia’s Taj Weekes. In February he was honored with the St. Lucia House Foundation’s Humanitarian Award, and on April 9 he and his band Adowa will release a new live album, Pariah in Transit, advances of which have already produced a raft of positive reviews. Socially conscious in more than name only, Weekes makes improving the lives of underprivileged, at-risk and orphaned Caribbean youth a daily part of his life’s work, mainly through the efforts of his charity, They Often Cry Outreach (TOCO), which he founded in 2007 and leads with a clear vision of its mission. This installment of Border Crossings honors Weekes’s work, previews his new live album and, via an interview with World Music Newswire, talks to him about his acclaimed 2010 work, A Waterlogged Soul Kitchen, which features stirring original songs reflecting on the devastation–physical, social and psychological–inflicted by Hurricane Katrina, the continuing despoiling of the planet as exemplified by the BP oil spill, and the horrors of Darfur.

The Lush and Gritty Grooves of St. Lucia’s Taj Weekes

‘If the people suffer, no matter where they are—-on St. Lucia, in Darfur, in China—-we have to say it. We all have to hold each other’s hand and walk the path together.’

St. Lucian singer-songwriter Taj Weekes makes music that grooves like waves on a beach: seemingly gentle yet insistently powerful. On stage and on albums like the recent A Waterlogged Soul Kitchen, Weekes and his band Adowa unite a vibrant diversity of sounds with thoughtful, lush arrangements and a long-honed penchant for telling tales of hardship and hope.

“I don’t sit down and write socially conscious songs. I write songs about where I place my focus,” Weekes explains. “I grew up listening to the power of the music, the lyrical content. That’s what matters.”

Taj Weekes, ‘Rain Rain,’ a song reflecting on the impact of Hurricane Katrina, from his 2010 album A Waterlogged Soul Kitchen

Weekes harnesses this power, using his gritty tenor as counterpoint to the lilting pulse of his guitar. He has reflected on the impact of Hurricane Katrina (“Rain Rain”), on the twisted tragedy of Darfur (“Janjaweed”), on the careless destruction of the Gulf oil spill (“Drill”). He knows how to sing with great tenderness (the subdued, poignant “Before the War”) or with wry firmness (“Anthems of Hope”), balancing elegant melodies with rich strings, purring percussion, bluesy harmonica licks, and funky, funky keys. He hints simultaneously at José González, Merle Haggard, Jimmy Scott, Tracy Chapman, Peter Tosh.

Though long hailed by reggae fans, Weekes defies simple genre formulas. His intuitive, intense songwriting ties together the many threads of his Caribbean heritage and honors his unflagging engagement with the world as a musician, philanthropist, and lecturer.

Weekes grew up tossing country tunes and jazz standards around the family kitchen with his father and siblings, learning how to speak truth to power from local calypso musicians, and watching his Rastafarian brothers take on a violently critical society. The young Weekes was also a DJ at a local radio station, absorbing and playing everything: classical music, hard rock, reggae.