National Geographic Music (National Geographic)

Jamaican reggae legend Burning Spear (a.k.a. Winston Rodney) is fond of telling the story of how he first broke into the music business. "I came up in St. Ann's Parish," he explains. "The same place as Bob Marley. I knew him some then, and after he had some success with music in Kingston, I saw him back home one day. It was at the end of the '60s. Bob was traveling with a donkey and all these various plants. We were there talking. Bob was young, dreadlocks just start to spring. I was asking Bob how I could get started and where could I go to get that start. He asked me if I know Studio One."

The aspiring young singer took Marley's advice soon after, traveling to the Island's capital to link up with the powerhouse Studio One label, where he recorded some of the most enduring tracks in reggae history. Rodney's collaboration with producer Jack Ruby produced such landmark albums as 1975's Marcus Garvey, 1976's Man In the Hills and 1977's Dry and Heavy - masterpieces that helped set the standard for conscious, uncompromising roots reggae.

Three decades later, Rodney is one of the last men standing from the fabled generation of reggae rootsmen that included Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, King Tubby and so many others. What's more, at the age of 63, Rodney is still going strong, performing, touring and recording new material – and is even the subject of an upcoming documentary film.

Earlier this year Rodney released Jah Is Real, his third album on his independent Burning Music label. Nat Geo Music took the opportunity to catch up with this true reggae legend and talk about his remarkable career, his Rastafarian faith, his recent travels in Africa and, inescapably, Barack Obama…

Nat Geo Music: The new album is called Jah Is Real - a reference to your Rastafarian faith. Can you explain that a little bit?

Burning Spear: Jah is real in so many ways. Not just to me, but to many people. When I say that, it's like how some people talk about Jesus or Buddha. Those kinds of names are just like a label, or a brand, you know? I say Jah, but what I'm really talking about is what's real behind those names, behind those labels that humans put on this idea to understand them. Part of my message is to explain this idea. So I believe that Jah is real. A real force. A real creator. A real power.

How did that influence the making of this album?

It influences everything I do. Not just making music or recording albums. It's about how I live my life everyday. What you hear on the album is no different than if I have conversations with you in my house or out on the street. Jah is real in all parts of life, equally, you know? But that's not all this album is about. I tried to create an album carrying a lot of different tastes and flavors. It's like a picnic with many different portions for everyone.

You had some help from Parliament-Funkadelic veterans Bootsy Collins and Bernie Worell on Jah Is Real…

It was good working with Bootsy and Bernie, I never did anything like that before. We got together just to greet and show respect to each other first, and then we started to play around and it felt very natural. Bootsy, he just understands reggae music very naturally. He understands that bass is the common root… Bernie is a very talented man. I would just say a thing and he could play it. He could do exactly what I want. He can do anything on the keyboard – this [reggae] music, classical music, funk – anything. I've worked with very few musicians who could do that.

All three of you came up in the '70s, were you fans of each other back then?

I used to listen to a lot of that music before I got started in music myself. We always had American music on the radio in Jamaica. We listened to a lot of soul, and r&b and funk back in the '60s and '70s... I knew about Parliament, and Mr. Brown and Curtis Mayfield and all of them. But you know we had a lot of country music, too, so we also heard Willie Nelson and Mr. Cash and all of them, too. That's what happens when you live next door to a giant. But we Jamaicans know how to make a little noise, too, you know? That's why every time I see Bernie he's in a Burning Spear t-shirt. Because music doesn't need a passport.

Speaking of passports, some of the material on this album was inspired by your recent trip to Kenya, can you talk about that a little?

This was my first time in Kenya. I've always wanted to go – back when I started in music I take unto myself the name "Burning Spear". I took the name from Jomo Kenyatta, who was a freedom fighter and the founder of independent Kenya. He helped free Kenya from colonialism and I took the name to honor him and respect his strength. So I always feel a strong connection to the place, you know?

When someone from the United Nations called Mrs. Rodney and asked me to help quell the ethnic clashes there, I knew it was the right thing to do. Things were very radical in Kenya at that time. You saw in the news after the election that Luo fight Kikuyu in the streets, churches were burning, massacres happening… But when Burning Spear played there, everyone lower their arms and leave that radical thing outside. Everything was peace. Everyone who came to see Burning Spear was hugging up and loving up in unity.

Do you think you helped make a difference?

That's a hard thing to say. I'll put it this way… music have a power that can make people forget hate and anger for a minute, and if you can let that go, you can cool down and speak reasonably. It can't solve all the problems, but it can give people a place to start. How can you want to hurt the man standing next to you singing the same song you are?

This wasn't your first trip to Africa, right?

[Laughs] Oh no… I've been in Africa many times. The first time was in the '80s, in Senegal. It was my first time playing for so many black people at one time. It felt like a homecoming… I've also played and traveled in Nigeria, Ivory Coast, Zaire, South Africa, Liberia… I'd really like to go to Ghana, since my ancestors come from there.

Traveling in Africa shows where I-man originally came from, it gives a full understanding of what people on that side went through in colonial times. We Africans in the Caribbean and in the new world had a different experience than the Africans who stayed behind. But it was two halves of the same people, you know? So for us Africans from the new world to be whole, we need to learn our African essence, our African roots, our African culture. You know I travel and tour in all parts of the world, Europe, Japan… but when I go to Africa it's like I'm going back home.

How do African audiences respond to reggae?

Very positively. Reggae is very, very popular in Africa. Part of this music is coming from Africa. If you listen back to the roots from the '60s and '70s you can hear the African rhythms coming through. So once Africans hear this music, they know it's part of them. It belongs to Africans. And the message of this music is even bigger than that. This is poor people's music. It's struggling people's music. It's music for the masses. It's music from the developing world, and that message matches up with the lifestyle of people in Africa, so they understand it immediately…

Economic empowerment and social justice have always been a big part of your message…

A lot of the ideas that are fashionable today, like microloans and microfinance, are ideas that came first from Marcus Garvey. Mr. Garvey was talking about economic empowerment for Africans over seventy years ago. A lot of things Mr. Garvey was talking about, some people listened, some turned their backs. I accommodate that message in my own life.

How?

To me, economic independence means freedom. You can say your own yes and your own no. Some artists end up owning nothing, and cannot live up to our own family obligations. I need to own something to be strong.

We established Burning Music over 15 years ago, and this is the third release on the label. It's important to control the business. I actually own everything now – all the original masters and the publishing to my old records. I am the true, full owner of all it except for two things from my back catalog. And we're working to get those, too.

It's a lot of work. It's a lot of struggle. It's not an easy thing, but you need to build a strong foundation to stay free. Once you give up the fight, you lose your freedom as an artist and a man. You can't ever let yourself be beaten down.

What's next?

I'm involved with a documentary. They're making a movie about me. But I'm still making music and spreading my message. I'm still talking to people in high places, telling them to embrace what's right. Who is right. Many times people in high places know the right thing and refuse to do it.

Speaking of people in high places, what do you think of Barack Obama?

I don't want to comment on politics, you know? I don't want to take one side or another. That's not my job as an artist. But I do like seeing an African man coming to that level in America. It says something to the rest of the world. It means that something new is here… something positive. I don't belong to political parties, but Mr. Obama is a symbol of progress for Africans all over the world. I think he's probably a good man, but power is very tempting. If he starts to forget the small people in this world, it's my job to correct him. That's what artists do.