Delroy Wilson finally gets 'respect'

Ian Boyne, Contributor

Eighteen years after his death in March 1995 following a prodigious 33-year career, Delroy 'Saddlehead' Wilson has finally been accorded respect by the Jamaican Government with the announcement of his being accorded the Order of Distinction (Commander Class). 'Respect' was the common refrain from the laconic lips of this diminutive performer as he would shyly try to build a vibe with his audience.

"Say gwaan, Delroy, gwaan, Delroy!" he would urge, trying to shore up confidence and elicit affirmation. And for too long, successive Jamaican governments had basically said, "Gwaan, Delroy!" as they honoured lesser artistes and deserving ones - but not Delroy Wilson. Last year, this column made an impassioned call for him to be honoured for Jamaica 50. (Admittedly, the piece came too late - in July - for regular consideration).

Quoting Delroy's song It's a Shame, I said it was a shame that more Jamaicans don't know about the history of an industry that has made our country famous globally. I went on: "What is an even greater shame and absolutely inexplicable and incredible is that this musical giant has never been given the Order of Distinction (OD), though he started his musical career the very year of our Independence and contributed to every genre of our music, from ska to dancehall, having worked with producers from Clement 'Sir Coxsone' Dodd to King Jammys."

I said further that, "The Government of Jamaica must signal its recognition of the importance of Jamaican music to our history by its award of this posthumous OD to Delroy. He is representative of our best in music from 1962 to today... . Honour our musical heritage by honoring Delroy Wilson. There is no artiste who has not so far been awarded the OD who is more deserving of honour than Delroy 'Saddlehead' Wilson."

I then made it clear that I was happy that a number of our artistes had been given national honours. But I went on: "It is absolutely amazing that no one has seen it fit to honour Delroy Wilson, to whom all these artistes paid tribute. Many of them looked to Delroy for inspiration. Delroy Wilson must be given a posthumous OD ... to reverse this tragic oversight ... to right an incredible, grievous wrong." The Jamaican Government has finally done it, and has done better than the OD by appropriately giving him the CD.

Beres Hammond

I use the opportunity to also congratulate another of my favourite artiste, Beres Hammond, who was deservedly inducted into the Order of Jamaica. But Beres was one who looked up to Delroy Wilson and who is indebted to him.

A whole slew of artistes looked up to Delroy Wilson. Michael Barnett, music aficionado and creator of the still popular Heineken Startime series, told me that in the mid-1980s, Bob Andy told him that he and other members of the original Paragons would do their studio work and then go down to a bar at the corner of Duke and East Queen streets to punch Delroy Wilson tunes and say wistfully to one another that one day they would be like him. Delroy was the standard. An incredible wrong was made right with Delroy's receiving this posthumous award.

Who really was Delroy Wilson and what was his impact?

Delroy Wilson was our first child star and boy wonder, having started recording at age 13 when he had to be hoisted on beer boxes for concerts. Delroy was an immediate sensation. He was our first superstar. In the ska era, he was a lethal weapon used by Sir Coxsone's Downbeat to demolish Coxsone's former employee, Prince Buster. In the first ever salvo fired in what was to become a Jamaican musical staple - the clash - Coxsone used Delroy to unleash a barrage of 'shots' against the Prince. King Pharaoh (the only song on which Coxsone's voice was ever heard), Joe Lies, Spit in the Sky and I Shall Not Remove burst from Studio One with unimaginable force.

In the ska era, Delroy gave you everything: Tracing songs, conscious lyrics (The Lion of Judah, which stoked the growing Rastafarian movement which emerged from his home base in Trench Town) and unforgettable love lyrics (Remember Can't You See?).

Delroy, whom I would travel all over to see perform, knew that when he wanted to send me in a frenzy, all he had to do was to pull for three of those ska hits: Somebody Has Stolen My Girl, Ungrateful Baby and Troubled Man. He rarely performed them, but obliged me one Thursday night at Three Little Bears on Holborn Road, in one of the best vintage series ever conducted in Kingston and run by Robert Bryan. Delroy Wilson was a man for all seasons. He gave you everything.

Pioneer

Before Bob Marley, Dennis Brown, Jimmy Cliff, Bob Andy John Holt, Ken Boothe and Leroy Sibbles were tearing down the place, the name on everyone's lips was Delroy Wilson. He was formidable in the ska era, and when the music changed to rocksteady in the late 1960s, it was then that he was really ready to stamp his dominance on the Jamaican musical scene.

In fact, he set the stage for the rocksteady era with his smash hit I'm in a Dancing Mood. Some of the greatest and most memorable hits of the rocksteady era came from the lips of Delroy Wilson: I am Not a King, Rain from the Sky, Once Upon a Time, True Believer (in Love), Riding for a Fall, Trying to Conquer Me (made to counteract Errol Dunkley), Feel Good All Over, Have Some Mercy, I Don't Know Why, Won't You Come Home, How Can I Love Someone.

Apart from the Godfather himself, Alton Ellis - in a galaxy of his own - the artiste whom many other greats adored was Delroy Wilson. He was the trailblazer. He was the artiste to pattern. People like Dennis Brown and Errol Dunkley covered Delroy's songs in their early career.

Indeed, the early Dennis Brown sound was the Delroy Wilson sound. The soulfulness was Delroy's. Dennis used that to stunning international success - a success which eluded Delroy; a classic case of the tragic artiste. Dennis admitted to me the influence Delroy had on him. Errol Dunkley's sound is the Delroy Wilson sound. Horace Andy evidences the Delroy Wilson influence. Speak to Michael Barnett, Bunny Goodison, Roy Black or Mutabaruka and - some of our most knowledgeable people in radio about our musical history - and they will tell you the enormous impact of Delroy Wilson on Jamaican music. (Bunny had been pushing, too, for Delroy's being honoured. )

If you want to plumb the depths of ecstasy, you have to find some lesser-known pieces from Delroy. I have already mentioned some of his more well-known hits. Delroy has hits to keep you rocking and singing along with gusto. He has songs that can stand up to those of the other greats - like Alton Ellis, John Holt, Ken Boothe, Leroy Sibbles, and Slim Smith.

Reflective songs

But there are some that you can't play just at any time during a party. They are for those intimate, reflective, meditative, rapturous moments. I am talking about songs like Give Love a Try, I Am the One Who Loves You, Who Cares (Mikey Barnett's favourite), I Never Hurt You, It Hurts, Gave You My Love, I Want to Love You, and It's Impossible.

Digest these lines from It's Impossible:

The sunshine outside my window

Ah, has lost its glow

The rose in my garden, oh no, don't bloom anymore ...

But I can't love another

No matter how I try

For it know

It's impossible.

Apart from his most regrettable alcoholism, which held him back considerably, Delroy was a role model also in his personal life; one of the most humble, modest and decent stars we have ever had. Delroy had a ubiquitous smile and was always good-natured. His alcoholism was, in part, because of his frustration that he never received the recognition and honour he deserved. Delroy used to complain to me about how he was not recognised; of how long he had been labouring in the musical vineyard without 'respect'.

One night after he had delivered a masterful performance at Baskin's outfit on Mannings Hill Road, Delroy pulled me aside downstairs and said, "Me love you like cook food. Man like you give me recognition." The entertainment journalists at the time were pushing the dancehall artistes, particularly the gun hawks and slackness kings. No one was paying attention to vintage artistes, and I decided to run cover stories in the very popular Sunday Magazine on vintage artistes - and to feature them on my television show Profile.

I big up Delroy not because of sentiment, though. He was always one of my tear-jerking artistes (Jerry Small has a photo of me at Delroy's funeral at the National Arena, sadly peering into his coffin). I big him up because of the raw facts. In 33 years of recorded music, he put out 350 songs, with numerous hits. He never acknowledged 'rude bwoys' in any of his songs, unlike even Bob who had his rude bwoy songs (to which Alton replied with Dance Crasher). Delroy's forte was love, and he was the king of Jamaican romance lyrics. And his signature consciousness piece, Better Must Come, impelled Michael Manley to draw for it as his campaign theme song for his successful 1972 elections.

There have been other greats - the Blues Busters (my absolute favourite duo), Slim Smith, Jackie Edwards, Owen Gray, Laurel Aiken, among others. They never crossed as many genres as Delroy. In terms of sound and sheer melody, it's hard to beat Slim Smith. Slim has given us some of the greatest love songs, the king of the falsetto. In terms of sheer smoothness, Delroy has etched himself indelibly in Jamaica's musical history.

His version of The Wailers' original I'm Still Waiting is among the most soulful of songs ever recorded in this country.

Delroy released Better Must Come 41 years ago. It has finally come for him. Happily, loyal fans are still here to celebrate for him. Gwaan, Delroy! Respect!

Ian Boyne is a veteran journalist. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and ianboyne1@yahoo.com.