The Fifth Desk · Evaluation
Act I · The Map
Bob Marley and the Wailers · produced by Bob Marley and the Wailers · Island · about 37 minutes
Mode
Roots reggae made for an international public, with rock lead guitar and a clean London finish
Mythos
The exodus of Israel taken as the pattern of a diaspora’s return to Zion; Babylon judged; the people gathered
Phase
Ten tracks on two sides of five; prophecy, history and judgement close on the long march of the title track, then love, play, rest and the gathering of the closing medley
Presentation
Album; ten tracks, about thirty-seven minutes, released by Island in June 1977, recorded in London in the early months of that year
Register
The one-drop at a single unhurried tempo band; bass and drums underneath, a female chorus answering, horns, keyboards, rock guitar, and a voice from hushed warning to sweetness
Scale
A people held in Babylon and moving out of it, and a couple at rest, joined in one theology
Governing Proposition
A band whose leader has been shot at in his own house records in London, in exile, an album in two halves: a side that judges Babylon and sets a people marching out of it over a vamp that will not resolve, and a side of love songs, play and rest that ends in a gathering, so that the plan of the record says what its songs mostly do not, that the life after the march is what the march was for.
Act II · The Essay
Movement I
The record begins already sounding. Natural Mystic fades in from silence, the slow pulse first and then the band, as though it had been playing before anyone was there to hear, and the voice that enters is hushed and warns of a thing “blowing through the air”. It is prophecy rendered as weather, and it is the summit of the record: the height of the whole is reached in its first minutes, by a song that does not arrive so much as become audible. A record about a people already in motion opens in motion.
Island released the album in June 1977: ten tracks, five on each side, about thirty-seven minutes, the production credited to Bob Marley and the Wailers. It was recorded in London in the early months of that year, after Marley left Jamaica following the shooting at his house in Kingston on 3 December 1976. The making is carried by the rhythm section, Carlton Barrett on drums and Aston Barrett on bass, with the I Threes as the answering chorus, Marley’s voice above, and Junior Marvin’s rock lead guitar.
The architecture is two sides of near-equal length, the first a little longer. Side one is prophecy, history, judgement and the march out, and it closes on its title track, over seven minutes, a fifth of the record and longer by more than three minutes than anything else on it. Side two is love, play and rest, five songs averaging well under four minutes, and it closes on a medley that sets Curtis Mayfield’s People Get Ready inside One Love. Every track keeps the same unhurried tempo band, the one-drop and its relatives. The plan, not any single song, is the record’s best formal idea.
Movement II
The second track puts the condition into history. So Much Things to Say sets the prophet betrayed by his own beside Christ crucified and Garvey sold “for rice”: history read as a sequence of betrayals, and the present as its latest term. Guiltiness follows, judgement on the powerful, whose guilt is not hidden but carried, “the big fish” who eat the small, and it is one of the two places where the record’s warmth turns to menace. The Heathen is a call to fallen fighters, driving rather than rising.
What the side discloses can be stated: a people held in Babylon, the system of the powerful, is a people already in motion, and its movement is at once political and sacred. The sound discloses as fully as the words, and is credited so. But the statement is made more often than it is deepened. The middle of side one states again what Guiltiness and the title track state better, and the condition it names had been named before, more sharply, on the band’s earlier records, Burnin’ and Natty Dread among them.
That is where the subtractive test bites first. So Much Things to Say and The Heathen could each go with little loss; their arrangements are routine for the band, and their energy is drive, not height. The record’s grandeur, where it might have been dreadful, stays menace. A side whose subject is judgement and the end of Babylon reaches terror only in a shadow across Natural Mystic and Guiltiness, and is held in its middle at the level of a strong band doing what it does well.
Movement III
The title track closes the first side, and here the record builds its myth rather than evoking it. The exodus of Israel is taken as the pattern of the African diaspora’s return to Zion, as Rastafari reads it, and the song makes it load-bearing: “Movement of Jah people” is a claim about a diaspora, not a mood. It calls on its hearers to “look within” before setting out, and invokes Moses as the precedent. The record was made in exile, in London, by a man shot at in his own house, and the title is its circumstance as well as its scripture.
The form is the knowledge. The bass figure does not move, and carries more than seven minutes without going slack; horns enter, the I Threes call and answer, the parts accumulate above an unchanging ground until the repetition becomes transport. The march is a vamp because a people’s movement does not resolve within a song, and the length enacts it. Held past any song form, the track is close in spirit to dub’s extension, the most open of the record’s departures from the band’s own Island records. In its later minutes it leans on repetition more than on build.
The departure is a refinement. The inheritance is roots reggae as the Wailers had remade it for an international public since Catch a Fire in 1973, Jamaican rhythm and Rastafarian speech built into albums for rock’s audience. This record turns along that path, not off it: one long track, a plan in two halves, and a softer address on the second side. The force it brought to the field is of the same kind. It did not reorganise what reggae could be built on; it showed that a militant theology and a pop sequence could share one album and reach the centre of the international market.
Movement IV
Turn the record over and the first thing done after leaving Babylon is to play. Jamming is pleasure, bouncing and unhurried, and Waiting in Vain follows, the record’s most beautiful melody and a guitar break by Junior Marvin that reaches the same warmth by another road. Then Turn Your Lights Down Low duplicates Waiting in Vain in a softer register, and Three Little Birds is a charm, rest after the march, its place in the argument real but thin. The voice moves from the warning of the first side to sweetness with full control.
The plan makes these songs mean more than they say. Reverse the sides or mix the songs and the record says only that its maker wrote political songs and love songs; in this order it says that love, play and rest are not escapes from the struggle but its fruit. That stake was in the moment. A record made weeks after an attempt on its maker’s life chose to end in love songs, and so risked the charge of softening. The risk is moral more than formal, and it is credited.
But the songs inside the plan are mostly in a common form, verse and chorus over the one-drop, and could be exchanged among the band’s records without loss to what they know. The myth of side one is left behind: the arrival in Zion is not built but implied by a change of subject, and side two builds a bedroom and a doorstep. Guiltiness and Turn Your Lights Down Low obey one law in sound entirely, and in meaning only through a theology the record assumes and leaves the listener to supply. The seam between the sides is visible.
Movement V
The record closes on a gathering. One Love lifts at the end, a hymn sung as a dance, and carries Curtis Mayfield’s train for Zion inside a Kingston song, so that the people who marched out on the first side are gathered on the second. It is one of two places on the record where more than one order is held in a single song: the sacred, the people and the couple’s love are one thing here, and the link side two has left unstated is stated once, at the last. The sermon of the first side has its answer in fellowship.
Forty-nine years have tested it. The album has stayed in print, whole, reissued and remastered, and its fabric dates little: a live band in a good room, with few sounds of its year beyond some keyboard tones. Its presence is of the widest kind. The title track, One Love, Three Little Birds, Jamming and Waiting in Vain are heard on every continent, by listeners born decades after it; One Love has become an anthem of a nation and of its tourist board, Three Little Birds a consolation sung to children and at funerals. Much of that presence travels through the singles and through Legend, the compilation of 1984, not through the album heard whole.
What it holds is wide for thirty-seven minutes: the sacred, Babylon and its powerful, slavery and Garvey and the diaspora, the couple at rest, the natural order in a mystic air and birds at a doorstep, and the people gathered at the close. Labour and the family are absent, and the orders are laid side by side more than joined. Within that, the record’s plan makes its argument, and its last word is the one its circumstance most made a risk: that the life after the march is what the march was for.
Act III · The Twelve
The subtractive test finds load-bearing parts and slack in about equal measure. Natural Mystic must open: it fades in from silence, the warning arrives before the band does, and the record begins as a thing already in motion. Exodus must close the first side, since its length is the march, and One Love must close the record, since the sermon of side one needs its answer in fellowship. Between these the test bites. So Much Things to Say and The Heathen state what Guiltiness and Exodus state better; either could go with little loss. Turn Your Lights Down Low duplicates Waiting in Vain in a softer register, and Three Little Birds is a charm whose place, rest after the march, is real but thin. The plan is required; several of the songs that fill it are not.
Score: 7.7 / 10
The disclosure can be stated: a people held in Babylon, the system of the powerful, is a people already in motion, and the movement is at once political and sacred; the oppressor’s guilt is carried, not hidden, by “the big fish” who eat the small; and love, play and rest are not escapes from the struggle but its fruit. Exodus states the first plainly, “Movement of Jah people”, a claim about a diaspora and not a mood. So Much Things to Say puts the condition into history: Garvey sold “for rice”, the prophet betrayed by his own. The sound discloses as fully. Held below the bar: the statement is made more often than deepened, side two discloses a feeling more than a meaning, and the condition had been stated more sharply on the band’s earlier records.
Score: 8.0 / 10
Height comes often and is of one kind: warmth with weight under it. Natural Mystic is the summit, the fade-in from nothing, the slow pulse, the voice warning of a thing “blowing through the air”, prophecy rendered as weather. Exodus rises by accumulation, horns, the answering chorus, a bass that never moves off its figure, until repetition becomes transport. Waiting in Vain reaches beauty in its melody and in Junior Marvin’s guitar break. One Love lifts at the close, a hymn sung as a dance. The frequency is held down by the middle of side one, which drives rather than rises, and by Jamming, Turn Your Lights Down Low and Three Little Birds, which are pleasure and charm. Grandeur and terror appear only as menace; the record is not dreadful where it could have been.
Score: 8.3 / 10
Here the record builds rather than evokes, in one place, and the place bears its name. The exodus of Israel is taken as the pattern of the African diaspora’s return to Zion, as Rastafari reads it, and the title track makes it load-bearing: the people of Jah leaving Babylon, the call to “look within” before setting out, Moses invoked as the precedent. The particular stays particular: the record was made in exile, in London, by a man shot at in his own house, and the title is its circumstance as well as its scripture. Around the frame Natural Mystic is prophecy, Guiltiness judgement, The Heathen a call to fallen fighters, One Love the gathered people. Held below the bar: one track builds the myth, side two leaves it, and the arrival in Zion is implied by a change of subject, not built.
Score: 8.3 / 10
The inheritance is roots reggae as the Wailers themselves had remade it for an international public since Catch a Fire (1973): Jamaican rhythm and Rastafarian speech in an album built for rock’s audience, with rock guitar and Island’s finish. The record turns along that path, not off it. The turns are real and modest: a title track held past any song form, close in spirit to dub’s extension; the open division into a militant side and a love side; a softer, rhythm and blues address on side two. The stake was in the moment, a record made in exile weeks after an attempt on its maker’s life that chose to end in love songs and so risked the charge of softening. That stake is moral more than formal, and the swerve is a refinement: that is what holds the axis lowest. It stands well below Low at 8.9 and Remain in Light at 8.6.
Score: 7.6 / 10
Would a different form change what the record knows? Partly. The sequence is counted here, once. The two-sided plan is the instrument of one thought: the march out of Babylon on side one, and on side two the life the march was for, love, play, rest and the gathering of One Love. Reverse the sides or mix the songs and the record says only that its maker wrote political songs and love songs. The title track’s form is its knowledge: the march is a vamp because a people’s movement does not resolve within a song, and the length enacts it. Natural Mystic fades in because the prophecy was already sounding. Held lower because most songs inside the plan are in a common form, verse and chorus over the one-drop, and could be exchanged among the band’s records without loss to what they know.
Score: 7.8 / 10
Evidence over forty-nine years. The record keeps yielding in use: its songs are sung where their maker never saw them, One Love as an anthem of a nation and of its tourist board, Three Little Birds as a consolation sung to children and at funerals, the word exodus carried into political speech. Each use returns to the song and finds it holding. Musicians keep returning to the Barretts’ rhythm section as a school of the one-drop. The semantic depth lies in the Rastafarian theology, which repays the listener who knows the scripture and Garvey behind it. What holds the axis: re-examination of the album as an album, rather than of its maker or of reggae, is thinner, formal return finds less than in records whose structure is the object of study, and much of the use returns to four songs rather than to the whole.
Score: 7.9 / 10
The field is popular music of 1977, and reggae’s place in it. The intrinsic force is moderate. The record did not reorganise what reggae could be built on; that had been done in Kingston, by the Wailers among others, and by dub. What it showed is that a Rastafarian roots record could hold a militant theology and a pop sequence in one album and reach the centre of the international market. Achieved reach is scored with intrinsic force: five of its ten songs are on Legend (1984), the compilation through which much of its presence travels; One Love has become an anthem of a nation; the rhythm section is studied as a school. Much of that reach is the career and the genre, not this record’s turn, and practice did not change on its account.
Score: 8.2 / 10
Survival is weighed over forty-nine years, on form, then presence, then fabric. The form is whole: the album survives as issued, in print throughout, reissued and remastered. Presence is of the widest kind: the title track, One Love, Three Little Birds, Jamming and Waiting in Vain are heard on every continent, in broadcast and in public use, by listeners born decades after it. Charged: much of that presence travels through the singles and through Legend, not through the album heard whole. The fabric dates little, a live band in a good room with few period timbres beyond some keyboard tones. It stands level with Let It Bleed at 8.8, and a tenth above Low and Remain in Light at 8.7, whose spans are the same or near it and whose presence is narrower.
Score: 8.8 / 10
Command of the recorded medium, with the words weighed elsewhere, and the making is load-bearing in the rhythm section. Carlton Barrett’s drums and Aston Barrett’s bass hold the one-drop with an economy that is the record’s ground: the bass figure of Exodus carries more than seven minutes without the repetition going slack. The I Threes are arranged as a chorus and a congregation, answering rather than decorating. Marley’s voice moves from the hushed warning of Natural Mystic to the sweetness of Waiting in Vain with full control, and the London production is clean and spacious, each part placed. The faults: several arrangements are routine for the band, the title track leans on repetition more than build in its later minutes, and the polish smooths edges the Kingston records kept. It stands below Low at 9.0 and Remain in Light at 8.7, above Zooropa at 8.2.
Score: 8.5 / 10
One law governs the sound: the one-drop at a single unhurried tempo band, the Barretts underneath, the I Threes answering, the voice above. The two most distant elements are Guiltiness, judgement on the powerful, and Turn Your Lights Down Low, a bedroom song. Do they obey one law? In sound, entirely: no track is fast, and none is a ballad without the beat. In meaning, only through the theology the record assumes, love as Jah’s and rest as the end of the march. The record states that link once, in One Love, and leaves the listener to supply it across side two. The seam between the sides is visible. The range is moderate, narrow in tempo and texture and wide in subject, and coherence across it is achieved by sound more than by law.
Score: 7.8 / 10
Judged on what the record holds, with no discount for the album form. The sacred is held, Jah and Zion, in the frame of the whole. The state and its powerful are held as Babylon, in Guiltiness and the title track. History is held: slavery and Garvey in So Much Things to Say, the diaspora in the title. The couple is held across side two, desire, waiting and rest; the natural order appears in Natural Mystic and in the birds at the doorstep; the people as a gathered body is the close. That is a wide span for thirty-seven minutes. What holds the figure lowest is integration: the orders are joined by the theology, but laid out side by side, judgement here and love there, and only One Love and the title track hold more than one order in one song. Labour and the family are absent.
Score: 7.6 / 10
Act IV · The Reckoning
8.0 / 10 · Final Average
Placement: Tier IV · Canonical
Strongest Dimensions
The Imperishable at 8.8, then The Made at 8.5, and The Sublime and The Archetypal Deep at 8.3. A record whole and in print for forty-nine years, its songs present on every continent; a rhythm section that is the record’s ground, a bass figure that carries seven minutes; elevation from the fade-in of the first track to the hymn of the last; and the exodus of Israel built into the title track as the pattern of a diaspora’s return.
Limiting Dimension
The Swerve and The Encompassed at 7.6: a turn along the band’s own path, one long track and a plan in two halves, its stake moral more than formal; and many orders held for the length of the record, the sacred, the state, history, the couple and the people, laid side by side rather than joined, with labour and the family absent. Then The Inevitable at 7.7: a required plan filled by several songs that could go.
The Necessity Cap clears at 7.7 against a threshold of 7.5. The Coherence Floor clears: The Living Form at 7.8, The Made at 8.5 and The Inner Law at 7.8, each against 7.0. The Epochal Gate is unmet on four axes: The Imperishable at 8.8 clears the bar of 8.5, but The Archetypal Deep at 8.3, Pressure on Tradition at 8.2, The Unconcealment at 8.0 and The Swerve at 7.6 fall short of it. The Universal Minimum is met: no axis but The Encompassed falls below 7.6, against 7.5, and The Swerve clears it by a tenth; The Encompassed, which is exempted, clears its own floor of 6.0 at 7.6. Four of the five summit conditions are met; the summit is withheld on the Epochal Gate, and the aggregate, at 8.0, stands below it as well.
Basis · the album as first released by Island in June 1977, the LP of ten tracks in their original sequence, five on each side, about thirty-seven minutes, production credited to Bob Marley and the Wailers; judged from knowledge of the recording, its words and its reception. No recording or lyric sheet was in hand, and running times are approximate. The deluxe editions, live recordings, the single Punky Reggae Party (not on the album), the compilation Legend (1984) and later covers are evidence for presence, reach and return, not the object. Songs are cited by title, and words are quoted only where certain and never beyond four words. Facts that could not be verified, among them the exact release date and the country of first release, the studio, the full credits and who played what on each track, the engineering credits, chart positions and sales, the order of the singles, the record’s standing among its maker’s sales in Britain and Europe, its reach in Africa, Latin America and the Pacific, whether the seam between the sides was heard as a break at the time of release, and an honour said to have named it album of the century, are not given.