Kenyatta Hill, lead singer of Culture, prowled the stage at Toad’s Place Wednesday night, perching at its edge to reach out to the audience. Harmony singers Albert Walker and Telford Nelson manned their microphones, dancing in front of them and stopping to blend their voices together. The band grooved behind them, deep and unhurried.
“What we are doing is very serious,” Hill said. “We are honoring my father, who is also one of reggae’s fallen soldiers, allowing us youngsters to continue.”
“Joseph!” someone yelled from the crowd.
Hill nodded. “When my father left me 11 years ago, my brothers,” he motioned to the band, “never gave up.”
Brian Slattery Photo
A small crowd of the faithful gathered at Toad’s on York Street to pay homage to Culture on the 40th anniversary of the release of the band’s seminal first album, Two Sevens Clash. Former lead singer Joseph Hill wrote the songs on the album based on the apocalyptic prophecies of Pan-Africanist leader Marcus Garvey, who predicted that a form of Armageddon would arrive on July 7, 1977, when “two sevens clashed.” The album created such a stir on its release in Jamaica that schools and businesses in Kingston closed that day. Propelled by strong material and a stellar backing band — including drummer Sly Dunbar and guitarist and bassist Robbie Shakespeare, who would become famous in their own right as a killer rhythm section and as a production team — Two Sevens Clash quickly became a classic after that, with some considering it the best reggae album ever made. It was enough to launch a decades-long career for Culture. For Hill, that career ended suddenly in 2006, when he collapsed and died after a performance in Berlin. His son Kenyatta, who was working as the band’s sound engineer, stepped into his father’s shoes and finished out the tour fronting the band. He has been there ever since, carrying on his father’s legacy and furthering the band’s and his own, 40 years and 28 albums later.
At Toad’s, that meant delivering a stadium-worthy show to a crowd that made up for its size with enthusiasm. As people danced and swayed, Hill led the tight yet enormous-sounding band through a selection of songs from Two Sevens Clash — which, Hill pointed out, the band had rarely performed until its members had the idea to celebrate the album’s anniversary — and plenty of others from Culture’s extensive back catalog. Funny asides leavened the solemnity, especially when the band got around to another of its hits, “International Herb.” Hill complained, mostly kidding, that the room wasn’t filled with smoke, before arguing for weed’s worldwide legalization, set a second later to an infectious beat.
But in the end, the night was really about the music, which hit harder as the night progressed. The band waited for its encore to unleash the opener from Two Sevens Clash, “Calling Rastafari,” a simple song that builds incantatory power through repetition, a train that won’t stop. It was a final reminder that the doomsday fury of that 1977 album was also shot through with ecstasy. “Many will be called,” the song goes. “A few shall be chosen.” Joseph Hill wrote that line with the faith that he would be among them. His son Kenyatta sang it with the same conviction. For the audience, it was a blessing to bear witness.
