Move Just Like a Squirrel

My introduction to Reggae came in a rather unlikely place, the offices of the Boston University Daily Free Press. 

I had certainly heard Reggae prior to my freshman year of college, but not much beyond the occasional Bob Marley tune. I was heavy into Ska but hadn’t explored any further back than the Specials. I was a perpetually broke college student in 1993, so I didn’t have money to really fund the kind of music habit I have now. The internet existed, but downloading music and streaming were still years away. It was radio, MTV, and mix tapes in those days if you wanted to hear new stuff, which is exactly what happened. 

I went to Boston for school with the notion of getting into film and television production, and somewhere along the way, I fell in love with the idea of journalism. My grades in high school weren’t terrible, but they weren’t good either, so while I was accepted into BU, it was into their ‘College of General Studies.’ This meant I had a set curriculum, no major, and a bunch of classes I had absolutely no chance of passing (seriously, my math and science skills are…not good.) The other result was that I couldn’t take classes that I was interested in, so in order to scratch that itch, I began volunteering at the Daily Free Press. 

I signed up to work the sports desk and became one of the team pretty quickly. As a freshman, you don’t immediately get handed writing assignments, which was good because my writing was terrible at that point. It would get a bit better, but I was definitely raw. The main way I volunteered was helping with production. Again, this was 1993, so it wasn’t all digital. The articles were printed out and then we hand-sliced them, waxed them, and put them on the printing sheets. Once everything was done, they would be carried downtown to the printer. It was a painstaking process that took a good long time and could be pretty frustrating. I loved it. It made me feel useful and part of the team, and I was happy to stay as late as was necessary, which was often midnight and beyond. If you’ve ever tried to coat a half inch slice of printer paper in wax through bleary tired eyes, you’ll understand. 

Because of the tedious nature of the job, the staff occasionally needed to take a break and blow off some steam. The way this happened was one of the newsroom leaders would put a mix tape in the stereo and blast it. Everyone would stop, take a breath, and occasionally dance and sing along. 

I don’t remember the other songs on the mix, but I sure as hell remember ‘Oh Carolina’ by Shaggy. The slow groove would permeate a tired room and seep into everyone’s bloodstream, kicking up the energy level. There’s not a lot of natural rhythm in a room full of student journalists, but that song wrenched out every drop like wringing a damp cloth. Shaggy’s authoritative growl told everyone to lively up and they obeyed. It re-invigorated everyone in a way none of the other songs did. 

To me it sounded old. I had no idea who Shaggy was or that it was a recently released song. I remember being almost disappointed when I found out. Something in the music, the banging drums, the repeated ‘Peter Gunn” sample, the barroom piano,  it all sounded like an artifact mixed in with a lot of alt-rock in the newsroom mix. In my mind’s eye, the song called to mind visions of people dancing in sweaty dives in the deep south on hot summer nights. It sounded like sweat, sex, and speakeasies. 

It turns out I was half-right. I had no idea, until I looked up the song tonight to write this piece, that it’s a cover song. The original is an old Ska tune recorded by the Folkes Brothers in 1960 and produced by Prince Buster. I will not lie, I feel rather vindicated in my original estimation. Having now listened to the original a few times, it’s really good but doesn’t have the same raw energy as Shaggy’s. 

The song was contained for me in that newsroom for a while, but after weeks of having to wait till someone hit play before hearing it each night, I scraped together a little dough and bought a single of the song on tape. It went on a LOT of mixtapes of mine after that, eventually wearing the original completely out. 

Since then I have listened to a ton of amazing Reggae that I deeply love, but nothing has ever quite compared to that one tape that opened the door for me. 

At the end of each semester, there was always a party to celebrate. The editors would give out awards, and I received one for “Most Dedicated Staffer” for being there night in and night out, helping put the paper to bed. Wanting to share that moment of shared musical joy with everyone was no small part in what kept me going. 

Who would want to miss the chance to, as Shaggy would say, “jump an prance?”