-------------------------------------------------------------------- FEATURE: Clinton Fearon - King Basie by Silja J.A. Talvi (First appeared in The Rocket magazine, 12/16/98) Seated in the corner of a busy coffee shop in Seattle's Fremont neighborhood, elbow to elbow with reggae artist Clinton "Basie" Fearon, I'm once again reminded of life's unexpected ways of delivering people to unusual destinations and avocations. Just how does a quiet, isolated Jamaican boy born out in a remote district of St. Catherine go from making his own guitar to performing with the early roots reggae phenom the Gladiators? To go from laying down now-legendary bass lines for reggae's most prominent producers to choosing to call Seattle, a most decidedly un-Jamaican city, his new home? Life delivers. Fearon takes it as it comes. As the lead vocalist, lyricist and guitarist for Clinton Fearon and the Boogie Brown Band, the thoughtful and expressive Fearon has spent the last decade earning a well-deserved reputation as one of the Pacific Northwest's most dedicated and gifted reggae musicians. As a young boy, Fearon was raised solely by his father, living "deep in the woods," where the closest neighbor was no less than a mile-and-a-half away. Under very strict guidance, Fearon learned to respect his father's orders and to take care of himself, even when his father left him behind during extended trips--sometimes for weeks at a time. As brave as a young boy could be, Fearon emotionally admits that "loneliness took over sometimes." One day, while he was sitting in the yard, crying and singing to himself, "something split the tone." Suddenly, Fearon could hear harmony in every sound he made. Music, it seemed, was Fearon's calling. After honing his instrumental skills on a homemade guitar, Fearon headed for Kingston, soon joining up with renowned reggae singer Albert Griffiths and becoming one of the harmonizing Gladiators. Together, the trio released hit singles and albums that resonated with Jamaican and European audiences alike. Having been encouraged by Griffiths to pick up the bass, Fearon also quickly emerged as an in-demand session player, recording tracks for two of Jamaica's most well-known producers, Coxsone Dodd and Lee "Scratch" Perry, who ultimately took advantage of Fearon's youthful enthusiasm: To this day, Fearon earns few, if any royalties on tracks and albums which have re-emerged in popularity as they are pressed to compact discs. To add insult to injury, Fearon's name is not always listed in conjunction with some of the Lee Perry work that he considers to be his best. "That's how this business is," Fearon says in a matter-of-fact tone. "It's a shame. It ruins the s In 1987, after spending nearly 18 years with the Gladiators, Fearon found himself in the Pacific Northwest, finishing up a tour with several months left on his work visa. To occupy the time left on the visa, Fearon decided to embark down a new path, helping to form a short-lived, but popular reggae band, the Defenders. By 1992, feeling comfortable in his new surroundings and with his residency in the U.S. established, Fearon set about assembling the Boogie Brown Band. In its current incarnation, the group consists of Fearon, keyboardist Barbara Kennedy, bassist Lamar Lofton, drummer John Rodde and the latest addition, guitarist Jason Cameron. Clinton Fearon and the Boogie Brown Band's two albums, Disturb the Devil and Mystic Whisper, released over the last few years, have garnered attention from nationwide reggae DJs and critics, and helped to boost an already enthusiastic core of local reggae fans. A new double album, What a System, will be released next year. But Fearon readily admits that the challenge of promoting reggae music in Seattle--and in other Northwest cities--continues to be an obstacle toward gaining a wider audience. The problem, Fearon believes, has to do with the lumping together of reggae music. "It seems to me like reggae on the whole is being cast in one bucket," says Fearon, "[but] we are all not coming from the same place. "When I go places and people take care of me--even with a totally opposite skin tone from mine--I have to say there are good people in the world, everywhere you go," he continues. "And there are bad people. It's for us to seek out the good ones. The same with music." One of Fearon's pet peeves centers on the increasing adoption of Jamaican accents and falsified shout-outs to the island nation in hip-hop and dancehall reggae music. "There are so many musicians and singers that say, 'Hey, straight from Jamaica!' and they're just from down the road," he says. "Right there, they are lying. They are cheating their own soul. So how can they come out with something good, really, when they are not true to themselves?" To Fearon's mind, reggae music must come from the heart, not from a basis of "falsehood" or a commercial attempt at success in the fickle reggae market. "All I'm dealing with is love," says Fearon. "From my heart, really." Reggae music, Fearon explains passionately, can have a wide appeal to people young and old (the all-ages atmosphere of the Folklife Festival ranks among one of his favorite places to perform), as well as to people from a spectrum of cultural and spiritual backgrounds. "Everyone praise God in a different way. Everyone coming to town from a different street, but we're coming to town. If there's no roadblock, we're all going to meet in town." © 1998 Silja J.A. Talvi --------------------------------------------------------------------