The Importance Of Being Ranglin
"So long as the human spirit thrives on this planet, music in some living form will accompany and sustain it and give it expressive meaning."-Aaron Copland
A few weeks ago it was announced that Jamaican guitarist Ernest Ranglin would be the subject of a career-comprehensive box set, entitled: Ernest Ranglin: Legacy. While Ranglin is not the most famous name to come out of Jamaica during the first wave of Ska music and well into the Reggae era, he is one of the most pivotal artists in the movement, who almost single handedly created a uniquely Jamaican sound that still reigns as one of the most internationally beloved popular music styles. This release will tell the story of Ranglin’s journey and visions—his awesome legacy—through decades of recordings and copious notes, of a great artist that is due a celebration.
Ranglin started playing guitar as a young teenager, deeply inspired by American jazz artists like Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker. When Ranglin’s parents moved to Kingston, he started hanging out at the Alpha Boys' School, known for its music program, where he met among others trombonist Don Drummond. Ranglin started playing in orchestras and bands, getting known as one of the great guitar players in Jamaica, and found himself helping arrange and produce recordings for the legendary Studio One label at Federal Studios, owned by the equally legendary producer Coxsone Dodd.
As both Ranglin and longtime friend and Island Records founder Chris Blackwell explain1, in Jamaica at the time, Calypso Music and music from Cuba were both very much culturally embraced. But there was also a deep appreciation for American Doo-Wop and R&B. Fats Domino was a big artist on the island, and his signature New Orleans Dave Bartholomew produced recordings, featuring his stride piano shuffle style, could be heard coming out of many clubs along the Kingston strip.
Ranglin decided to incorporate the shuffle into his music, mixing it up with the jazz he loved and the island sounds around him. But instead of playing the Domino shuffle straight, he reassigned the musical accents to be on what was then Domino’s off-beat; to “shuffle” the rhythm around. It was an inspired, simple move…but something that birthed a new sound that would become known as Ska. As Ernest reflects: “I was working with Coxsone Dodd, and we were at Federal Studios late into the night. One night Coxsone and I went upstairs, and we just had a way of understanding he and I and after one night we had the rhythm and then the tune… Theophilius Beckford’s Easy Snappin’ with Theophilus Beckford on piano — good energy, very raw. I remember I started playing the guitar on the upbeat — chanking a bit differently than usual. Not the straight jazz comping I was used to. It was more like a bounce, a little skip. It had that Ska beat…and we knew it was different.”
Easy Snappin’ was a hit upon its release, and is considered the first Ska record. Ranglin worked with Dodd for over six years after, the two working together to define a revolutionary musical era. Ranglin put together an incredible session band that played on most of the recordings that were produced for Studio One, a band filled with musicians he had met at Alpha Boys School like Tommy McCook, Don Drummond, and Roland Alphonso. This session band eventually formed one of the first and greatest Ska groups, The Skatalites. And while Ranglin played with them, and recorded with them, instead of joining them he had another adventure to begin.
Chris Blackwell was born in England but raised in Jamaica. He was sent back to Britain to go to high school but returned to Jamaica instead of going to college to pursue initially a career in politics, and then a career in business, which included managing the jukeboxes that went into clubs. Blackwell was a huge music fan, and his new occupation presented him with the opportunity of learning about all the artists that were playing and recording in Jamaica…and he heard the exciting new Jamaican sounds, and heard about the the guitar player who started it, Ernest Ranglin. Blackwell befriended Ranglin and in 1964, took Ranglin to England, to introduce him to the music scene in London. Ranglin’s sound was immediately embraced after a faithful night when Blackwell forced an uninterested jazz band to have Ranglin him sit in on a session at a hipster club gig. The band might have been uninterested, but the crowd loved what they heard, and after the show Ranglin was well on his way to being woven into the London scene. When Blackwell decided to record and release a cover of the 1950s Cadillacs’ hit My Boy Lollipop with Jamaican singer Millie Small (Blackwell’s first attempt at “making a hit record”) he hired Ranglin to arrange the music. He wanted Ranglin to manifest his Ska groove on the track, which slightly mirrored, albeit evolved, the vibe from the original recording. The song was a huge hit in both England and the US and with it, unbeknownst to the listening public, Ska was introduced through all of the top 40 radio stations
Ranglin went on to continue to record and build on “the sound”, working with The Wailers on their first single, helping them put structure to their early song ideas. He became the teacher, arranger—a man behind the curtain—to Prince Buster, Toots and the Maytals, Jimmy Cliff and so many more during their formative years and he played on many of their most famous songs. Always in touch with Chris Blackwell, he released a set of more jazz-leaning solo records in the 90s, including the 1996 classic Below the Baseline while still recording and arranging for Jamaican musicians and beyond (check out the 1999 live record where he creates beautiful intergalactic sounds with Baaba Mall Live at the Royal Festival Hall). All and all, he has been on thousands of recordings over the years, hundreds of them being hit records. And yet his name and fame does not reflect his tremendous accomplishments; in many ways Ernest’s genius was more often than not reflected in the work of others, with the hits not baring his name, with very little footage of him playing live or in the studio.
Music producer and record collector Tony Mindel is a reggae enthusiast who has long understood the importance of Ernest Ranglin to the music he loves, and has been scheming about a comprehensive Ernest Ranglin boxset for years. After meeting and working with Ranglin, he started going down to Jamaica, talking to Ranglin about the concept behind the release, getting a commitment from Chris Blackwell to be involved to salute his friend and musical muse. He has already cleared the rights to some of Ranglin’s early releases and has dug up some unreleased recordings. Ranglin is now 93, still with sharp mind and wit, and all agree that it is imperative to tell his story through his music…now.
The Kickstarter for the boxset is up and alive (at least til the end of the week) for those who wish to support the project as it begins is long path to production (the site is worth checking out, just to see the included video with footage and music from the artist). As is much discussed in the annals of this newsletter, there are too many artists whose genius has not properly been recognized, those artists who deserve to have their legacy understood…celebrated. Ranglin might be loved by us geeked out problematic record collectors, but his name should be more universally known, in stars with all of the great musicians he worked with.
Here is a short interview with Tony Mindel about the boxset, which is best read while listening to a mix he made of some of Ranglin’s gems.
DK: How did you meet Ernest Ranglin?
TM: I first met Ernie through a project with another band on my label, Avila Street Records — a group called Hamsa Lila. They had put together a special musical event at the Craneway Pavilion and invited Ernest Ranglin to come out and play.
His backing band that night was a group of extraordinary musicians who happened to be part of our extended musical family here in the Bay Area including Yossi Fine, who’s worked with David Bowie, Lou Reed, Vieux Farka Touré. David Margulies from the High Sierra Music Festival was at that show and was blown away by Ernie. He asked me to put together an all-star band for Ernie to play at the festival. And that’s really where things began. I was just this guy running a small indie label, producing some world music with amazing musicians — and suddenly, I’m working with my idol, Ernest Ranglin. It felt surreal. He’s my absolute jam: jazz, reggae, ska — the music that shaped my life. Over the years, we’ve made records together, toured together, and I’ve been lucky enough to spend time with him in Jamaica — many times now. He’s not just a musical hero to me — he’s a dear friend.
DK: Let’s talk about your take on Ernest Ranglin’s legacy…
There is no doubt that he is one of the true architects of Jamaican music, the foundation. Quietly, consistently, and masterfully, he laid down the building blocks of ska and reggae. It was Ernie who first played the signature ska rhythm on guitar — a completely new way of approaching the instrument that shifted the direction of popular music. It was Ernie who helped a young Bob Marley. It was Ernie who arranged songs like Rivers of Babylon by The Melodians and Police and Thieves by Junior Murvin. His fingerprints are everywhere, often uncredited, but undeniably present.
Chris Blackwell has often said that Ernie helped launch his own career — and in many ways, Jamaican music’s international story. It was Chris who brought Ernie to England, booked him at Ronnie Scott’s, and had him arrange and produce My Boy Lollipop, which became the first ska song to break internationally. To see the two of them now, still close in their later years, is incredibly moving. There’s a quiet reverence between them — two men who helped shape music history, still sharing a deep bond.
Ernie’s legacy isn’t just in the hits or the innovations — though there are many. It’s in his humility, his integrity, and his lifelong devotion to the music. He never chased fame. He just did the work. And in doing so, he changed the world. That’s why we’re working so hard to bring this retrospective box set to life — to honor the full arc of Ernie’s career, from his early studio sessions to his later global collaborations. There are so many gems in the archives — unreleased recordings, handwritten charts, stories, and footage — and we want to present them in a way that does justice to the depth and breadth of his contribution. My hope is that this project becomes a way for new generations to discover not only the sound, but the soul of Ernest Ranglin.
DK: Do you have any insight into his artistic process or imagination?
TM: When Ernie asked me to help put together a band for him, I had the fortune of bringing in an incredible group of musicians who not only understood the mission but instantly connected with Ernie on a deep musical level. Watching him work with them was a revelation. He made everyone better — not through force, but through quiet mastery. He had this gentle but unwavering way of guiding players to bring out the best in themselves, always in service of the music.
When we went into the studio, he arrived with songs that were fully formed — meticulously handwritten charts, each one elegant and complete. They spanned styles: ska, jazz, reggae, global sounds, and something I’d call “Ernie’s world” — a unique blend of influences that only he could conjure. The songs were structured yet open, leaving space for improvisation and personal voice. That balance is part of his genius. Ernie composes entirely from his head. Truly. No computer, no software — just a lifetime of music living inside him. There are still many pieces in his archive, and my hope is that the next generation of musicians will have the chance to interpret and record them.
Working with him, I often found myself imagining what it must have been like in the studio with Coxsone Dodd or Lee “Scratch” Perry — and here I was, getting a glimpse of that same creative fire. Ernie is a Renaissance man in the truest sense: composer, arranger, bandleader, guitarist, and a musician’s musician. And to think he was still doing all this in his 80s, with grace, humor, and humility — it’s nothing short of extraordinary.
~fin~
Mary Lindsay Dickinson passed away this week on July 13th. She was the wife to Jim Dickinson, and mother to Luther and Cody, dear friends all. I will be talking about her more in the upcoming days, taking a peek in to her incredible life. We had some wonderful times together over the past decades, dancing in moonlight-glistening Mississippi fields, driving the dirt roads telling our stories, listening to wonderful music together, always figuring out ways to uplift the legacy of her husband Jim. She was one of the first people to welcome Barb, my then girlfriend, into our crazy world with her famous pimento and cheese sandwiches (I think those sandwiches sealed the deal). Thank you for everything Mary Lindsay.
The Arthur Magazine archive is Finally Complete
Jay Babcock did wondrous things with Arthur Magazine, combining his love and aesthetic around music, philosophy, general artistry and otherworldliness to create a subculture. I do not know any magazine that has achieved such a feet in the modern print era. To have access to the complete Arthur run, to have it be available for anyone is just incredible. It is a gift as is Jay’s current publishing concern, Landline.
Confronting & Celebrating the Limits of the Body: Black Sabbath Live at Villa Park
Love this article…taking the final Sabbath show and using it as a springboard into the history of metal and the wonders, and limitations, of the mortal being. Beautiful ponderings and a great read. Writer Keith Kahn-Harris is no stranger to the subject, writing the book Extreme Metal: Music and Culture on the Edge almost 20 years ago, and this is a great next chapter.
In my pursuit of watching as many horror films from 1975 as possible (for the Holloween edition of the newsletter), I came upon a curious, excellent abstract-horror short by Japanese artist Toshio Matsumoto called Ātman (you can watch it here). That led me to watch a full-length film of his from 1971, Demons/Shura (available here on youtube), which might be one of the darkest movies I have watched in a long long time…dark, very bloody while beautifully shot, and a novel take on the Shogun archetype. Matsumoto, it turns out, was an incredible artist spanning many mediums, maybe best known (maybe?) for his photography. I am just tipping the iceberg on the visionary artist…
ELLINGTON DENIED PULITZER CITATION
Ted Gioia refers to this article in a recent newsletter edition…it is a story that I did not know. The music committee of the Pulitzer voted unanimously to give the coveted prize to the Duke, but the final awards committee denied it….gave no prize to any musician. Duke was 66 at the time and his reaction is priceless: "Fate doesn't want me to be too famous too young."
The first article I read about Tacita Dean was in the New York Review of Books which was just excellent but behind a fire wall for all of you non-subscribers. So I found this one, which is good as well (if you can get the NYRB piece, I still recommend it). Tacita Dean deserves all the print: her art…the philosophy behind her art…is stunning. The above picture is huge…Cy Twombly huge, made on a blackboard with school chalk. Oh….there is also a great Cy Twombly article in the new ALTA magazine.
“Let Me Tell You What I Love.” Remembering Fanny Howe: On One of America’s Great Poets, Gone at 84
Howe’s poetry is a thing of beauty, and her voice like no other. RIP. “Howe wrote “I’d always been looking for a revelation that would open the whole universe for me and make it all have sense.” She’d “always felt sort of bereft in the world—like, Why be here?” The search had been unfolding on the page for years.”
Loneliness
By: Fanny Howe
Loneliness is not an accident or a choice.
It’s an uninvited and uncreated companion.
It slips in beside you when you are not aware that a
choice you are making will have consequences.
It does you no good even though it’s like one of the
elements in the world that you cannot exist without.
It takes your hand and walks with you. It lies down
with you. It sits beside you. It’s as dark as a shadow
but it has substance that is familiar.
It swims with you and swings around on stools.
It boards the ferry and leans on the motel desk.
Nothing great happens as a result of loneliness.
Your character flaws remain in place. You still stop in
with friends and have wonderful hours among them,
but you must run as soon as you hear it calling.
It does call. And you climb the stairs obediently,
pushing aside books and notes to let it know that you
have returned to it, all is well.
If you don’t answer its call, you sense that it will sink
towards a deep gravity and adopt a limp.
From loneliness you learn very little. It pulls you
back, it pulls you down.
It’s the manifestation of a vow never made but kept:
I will go home now and forever in solitude.
And after that loneliness will accompany you to
every airport, train station, bus depot, café, cinema,
and onto airplanes and into cars, strange rooms and
offices, classrooms and libraries, and it will hang near
your hand like a habit.
But it isn’t a habit and no one can see it.
It’s your obligation, and your companion warms itself
against you.
You are faithful to it because it was the only vow you
made finally, when it was unnecessary.
If you figured out why you chose it, years later, would
you ask it to go?
How would you replace it?
No, saying good-bye would be too embarrassing.
Why?
First you might cry.
Because shame and loneliness are almost one.
Shame at existing in the first place. Shame at being
visible, taking up space, breathing some of the sky,
sleeping in a whole bed, asking for a share.
Loneliness feels so much like shame, it always seems
to need a little more time on its own.
***HAPPY 325th Birthday Johann Christoph Richter!!!
“The world of the possible which poetry creates is more intelligible than the world of experience. The poet presents permanent and eternal facts, free from the elements of unreason, which disturb our comprehension of real events and of human conduct.”-Samuel Henry Butcher
Ernest Ranglin Documentary Roots of Reggae