Body of evidence

John Brown's reggae faith

by Chris Kanaracus

Kevin Kinsella says reggae is in dire need of a push. He would know, having fronted the Boston-based John Brown's Body, one of America's leading traditional reggae ensembles, for the past five years. Along with his six bandmates, Kinsella says, they've found an ever-growing audience for their organic, sample-free sound, one drawn from the work of vintage artists like Toots and the Maytals, Steel Pulse, and, of course, Bob Marley.

But, according to Kinsella, John Brown's Body (who appear on Saturday at Gilrein's) have had to overcome a sizable public bias. "People have long typified reggae as something of a parody. . . . It's been associated with palm trees, marijuana usage -- things like that. When you add 15 to 20 years of questionable output to the picture, it's just an abominable situation."

Kinsella is referring to the hackneyed rhythms, or "riddims," born of the Jamaican-dancehall scene in the early '80s, patterns that, much like the 1-4-5 in blues, have become reggae's albatross.

"I've always believed that the reggae people really love comes from artists with carefully honed compositions, like Jimmy Cliff, Culture, and Bob Marley," he says.

And that's exactly what John Brown's Body have done over the course of three increasingly superb releases. The first, All Time (I-Town), broke in 1996, and was followed by 1998's Among Them (Shanachie).

Their latest, This Day (Shanachie), a lovingly produced, exquisitely performed, 13-track set, certainly toes the traditionalist-reggae line set by the group's previous works, but man, some of these hooks are huge. "Land Far Away," "Foolish Pride," "Rip the Curtain," "Poor Man's Dub," "Many Names" -- it's phenomenal, and, truth be told, quite rare that John Brown's Body manage to sound so familiar yet nearly free of cliché. Even those who might reject the album's admittedly overwhelming religious streak (Kinsella and others in the group follow the Rastafarian faith) have plenty to enjoy here.

Kinsella agrees, saying even if a listener is "some frat guy with a Bob Marley poster on his wall, at least he's hearing the message. He's at least subjecting himself to it."

Although no number of bong hits can obscure the dynamite horns (cranked out by Lee Hamilton and by Chris Weller), the tasty guitar work of Kinsella and of Nate Richardson, Dave Gould's unobtrusively masterful basslines, Tommy Benedetti's rock-steady riddims, and vocal work by Kinsella and by Elliot Martin, all of which make constant (and often successful) leaps toward the sublime.

It's more amazing when you consider that John Brown's Body aren't staffed by grizzled reggae vets from the heart of Kingston, but by mostly-twentysomething guys from upstate New York. There's no gimmickry here -- the music's quality hints at something Kinsella is all too happy to confirm: John Brown's Body are in for the long haul. "There have been times when I, and we, have looked at things and wondered where it's all going, but then I take a step back and say to myself, `Kevin, the race is running. You're in it. . . . It's about whatever God wants from you.'"

John Brown's Body, though, are but one of a handful of American reggae bands keeping the faith. Popularity among groups like theirs tends to stay regional, as well. California's Natty Nation dominate the West Coast scene, and Wisconsin's Boom Shaka cover the Midwest.

But things are looking up. The group are constantly touring, and, Kinsella says, the crowds are getting bigger. And at least in an abstract sense, he says, America is embracing reggae more and more each day. "All I can say is, I look around and I see a lot more dreadlocks on people's heads than 15 years ago, when I was first getting into reggae," he chuckles.

Yet, if John Brown's Body's popularity peaks, or even fades, the calmly spiritual Kinsella won't be concerned. "I believe the message we're sending is seeping in. . . . These days, [people] want to see the fruits of their labors immediately. What they don't realize is that [people's] impact may not be apparent until after we're gone."

John Brown's Body perform on February 12 at Gilrein's. Call 791-2583.