There was a backlash this week from Jamaica at Donald Trump’s video which depicted Barack and Michelle Obama as apes.
Jamaican Reggae artistes are quick to react to anything as they have recording studios on stand-by
A quick response to an AI generated song referring to Donald Trump’s video came about.
It goes like this;
Can you believe that in 2026 the president of the United States
Would make a social media boast
Depicting former president and first lady as apes.
Donald Trump is a chimp and Melania is a whore
You were quick to depict the Obamas as apes
At least they are not on those Epstein tapes
How low can you go? etc.
The history of instant music coming from Jamaica is well known.
If one dreamt of a song in his sleep, he would rush to Coxone’s Studio 1 the next morning with the hope of recording it and making a hit.
It was March 1962 and Studio 1 on Brentford Road, Kingston, was the heartbeat of Jamaican music.
Every artist who wanted to make it in Kingston knew that if Coxone Dodd didn't believe in you, your career was over before it started.
For three teenagers from Trenchtown, Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, and Bunny Wailer, this was their shot at escaping the poverty and violence that surrounded them every single day.
But there was a problem. The Wailers weren't equals. Not even close. Peter Tosh was 6 feet tall, commanding, and confident.
When he walked into a room, people noticed. When he sang, people listened. He had the kind of presence that made you believe he was destined for greatness and Peter knew it.
Bob Marley at 16 was the quiet one dealing with trauma from being called white boy in Trenchtown because of his mixed heritage.
His white father had abandoned the family when Bob was just a child and his light skin made him an outsider in his own community.
While Peter commanded attention, Bob faded into the background. The dynamic was clear from day one. Peter Tosh was the leader. Bob Marley was just along for the ride. "Listen, Bob," Peter told him weeks earlier during rehearsal in Joe Higgs's backyard.
"You're good at writing little songs, but performing that's not your thing. Stick to backup vocals and let me handle the front."
Bob had nodded quietly, quatching the notebook where he wrote his songs. He never argued with Peter. He never argued with anyone. Growing up, as the white boy in a black neighborhood had taught him to keep his head down and his mouth shut.
But inside that notebook was something nobody had seen. Songs Bob had been writing late at night by candlelight in his mother's tiny shack.
Songs about unity, love, and freedom. songs that felt too personal, too vulnerable to share with anyone, especially Peter, who probably would laugh.
On March 14th, 1962, the Wailers got the call they'd been waiting for.
Cox's own Dodd wanted them at Studio 1 the next morning at 9:00 a.m. sharp. The boys could barely sleep that night. This was everything they dreamed of. a real recording session at a real studio with a real producer. If this went well, they could actually become musicians.
Peter spent the night practising in front of a mirror, perfecting his performance. Bunny went over harmonies.
Bob sat alone with his notebook, writing one more song he'd never show anyone, One Love. March 15th started out to be the most important day of their lives. Then everything went wrong. At 7:00 a.m., Peter woke up drenched in sweat. His head was pounding. His throat felt like sandpaper.
He tried to stand and immediately collapsed back onto his bed.
His mother checked his temperature, 103°. Peter Tosh, the voice of the Whalers, was burning up with fever. "You can't go to the studio," his mother said firmly. "You're too sick”. “I have to go,” Peter croaked out. But by 8:00 a.m., it was clear Peter couldn't even stand up, let alone sing.
It was at this juncture that Bob Marley decided to sing his songs and he never looked back despite being mocked by Peter Tosh as a singer of little songs.
Peter Tosh never made it to the same level as Bob Marley.
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