By David Commeillas

English Translation:

Taj Weekes, the Rastafari from St-Lucia, releases a superb third album 

“When you play reggae but are not born in Jamaica, people often dismiss you. It’s as if the international public demands that artists have ‘Made in Jamaica’ tattooed on their arm. Nasio Fontaine should have become an international star a long time ago, he should have been huge by now! But he’s not from Jamaica… There’s a lot of prejudice messing up the way our music should be appreciated. I sometimes think that’s why so few people know me in Europe though I’m releasing my third album.”

His words may sound conceited but Taj Weekes is right: his lack of notoriety is absurd when you take the quality of his productions into account. Yet he still hopes that his songs will resonate in Europe this year. His new album, A Waterlogged Soul Kitchen, once again a self-produced effort on his Jatta Records label, overflows with harmonica, violin and cello. His hoarse, soulful, almost feminine voice delivers splendid melodies over comfortable roots rhythms.

Taj is also an authentic songwriter, not a rasta priest posing as a musician. Though he regards Selassie as the Black Messiah, he doesn’t constantly shout out his name. He dares resort to fiction in order to better reflect reality, a rare deed in reggae. On “Two Joints,” he expresses sorrow as a forlorn lover. On “B4 The War,” he is a soldier on his way home after fighting in Afghanistan.

“I try to sing about people’s lives. To be universal, reggae can’t just concentrate on the suffering of Africans. I simply think that Chinese and Europeans suffer as much as Africans. If it offends some brothers, so be it. Take for instance the sons of billionaires who lose themselves in drugs or become depressive. They’re as much victims of the system, but on another level. I was lucky enough to travel all over the world and I can testify that unfortunately, suffering knows neither color nor social class.”

Taj Weekes hits stages the world over with his band Adowa, but he always returns to St-Lucia, this small parcel of submerged land lying a few miles away from Martinique. There, he invests part of the profits yielded by his minor success in the States. TOCO, his charitable association, provides equipment to football clubs and finances health awareness films to prevent diabetes.

“The kids we’re helping are just like me when I was young. They don’t need much more to be happy. I grew up in a house without a fridge or a television, but I never suffered from it. My parents gave me a lot of love, taught me not to be dependent on material things to be happy because happiness comes from inside. My father was a plumber, my mother a cleaning lady and I’m the last child of a brood of ten. Every evening after dinner, we’d sit in a circle and sing. Then I sang in a choir at church and I sang in school. Music chose me before I chose it.”