Showing posts with label Reggae Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reggae Music. Show all posts

Wednesday, 18 March 2026

Mar 18: Guest blogger Carl Lee #9: From Goa to John Lewis

The latest in a series of blog posts from Carl Lee. I hope you are enjoying them as much as I am... this one starts on the coast of India back in the late 1980s, when I was just starting my teaching career. 

From Goa to John Lewis

In 1988 I found myself heading south from Mumbai on the night-train to Panaji, the state capital of Goa on the west coast of India. 

Goa had been a Portuguese enclave, once part of the ‘Estado da India’ that also covered trading ports from Gujarat (Diu) to Kerala (Cochin), with roots as far back as the early 16th century. On India gaining independence from the British Empire in 1947 Goa remained a part of Portugal until 1961 when the Indian army invaded and seized control. 

Yet it was not until 1987 that Goa became a full state within India.    

Since the late 1960s, Goa had been an integral part of the over-land hippie trail. 

To some it was the final destination after Kabul, Kashmir and Kathmandu. An under-ground culture of beach-based hedonism developed, fuelled by hashish from the 3Ks. 

I would be disingenuous if I did not admit at this point that such hedonism was part of the attraction of Goa as I headed south on the train, and the fact that it was one of the few places in India you could get a cheap cold beer. 

Christmas was coming and Goa was beckoning.

I stayed for 6 weeks; co-renting an old, falling down, Portuguese colonial house from a nun, with its own well and ‘pig toilet’ (don’t ask). It was under a palm grove on the edge of the village of Vagator, a couple miles north of the ‘legendary’ beach resort of Anjuna with its hippie market and full moon parties. I was looking forward to going to a full-moon party and getting down to some Bob Marley, maybe a bit of soul and funk. What I wasn’t expecting was what I initially disparagingly called Italian electro-disco but later found out was some of the very early roots of acid house music. When was anybody going to put some reggae on? 

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goa_trance#/media/File:Vagator,_Goa,_India,_Trance_party_in_Goa,_Psychedelic_art.jpg

In the quiet rural Goan nights, finding a party wasn’t difficult - just head towards the thumping beat. And it was that beat, a repetitive four on the floor 120 to 150BPM, which jarred my musical sensibilities. On the beach at Vagator parties kicked off at sunset and rolled on way past sunrise. In such matters I was seriously lightweight - I only knew that they went on post sunrise because they kept me awake, woke me up, or we’d bump into the spaced-out stragglers as we sauntered down to the beach for breakfast.    

The disparate nationalities that were drawn to the Goan beach-party scene at that time were primarily European, a fair number of Australians and a surprisingly large Israeli contingent. Plenty of life’s flotsam; its damaged, its wayward, its idealistic and hedonistic was washing up on those Goan beaches but what they were listening too had legs way beyond the sand. 

The mash-up of electro, house and trance sounds that were being explored by those pioneer Goa DJs proved to be influential on the birth of acid house and its multitude of sub-genres that blossomed in the UK from 1988 onwards. It even spawned its own sub-genre ‘Goa Trance’ which had a particularly strong following in Israel with acts such as Astral Projection, Infected Mushroom and Astrix to the fore. 

Geographer Arun Saldanha’s 2007 book ‘Psychedelic White: Goa Trance and the Viscosity of Race’ ethnographically deconstructs the Goa dance culture through the prism of a materialist theory of race, which Brown University academic Masha Hassan extended with her 2025 analysis entitled “India’s Right-Wing Raves: Hindutva, Zionism and Psychedelic Trance’. 

You can waste an hour or so looking back on these Goan beach parties on You Tube with this one of ‘Goa trance party at Vagator, Goa 1992’ being pretty much as I remember, albeit four years previously. 

Goa trance party at Vagator, Goa 1992

Wild abandon on the dance floor where nobody cared what shapes you were throwing, and tracks that went on and on until they changed and you had not really noticed. Look closely and you’ll see that this is broadly a ‘Western’ event with locals relegated to servicing events: chai, food and taxis.  

The burgeoning dance music scene that exploded across the UK in the late 1980s and early 1990s became a significant cultural game-changer as well as having significant social impacts. It was open, accepting and crossed ethnicities and classes. 

It was not long before dance music escaped its under-ground transgressive vibe; the illegal raves in fields, warehouses, Castlemorton Common, SMS messages and the wave of ecstasy. 

By the early 1990s dance music jumped up everywhere, the charts, in the high street clubs and was cemented in popular culture when Primal Scream’s 1991 album ‘Screamadelica’ won the inaugural 1992 Mercury Music Prize. 

Here's the track 'Movin' on up'.

In 2025 the much-anticipated John Lewis Christmas television ad referenced those heady days of dance music frenzy to a generation now much more grown-up.

A father and his son on Christmas Day, hesitant around each other, make a connection through the gift of Alison Limerick’s 1990 floor-filler of a groove ‘Where Love Lives (Come On In)'. 

A track artfully selected by John Lewis’s ad company for maximum emotional impact. The father drops the needle and is taken back to those hedonistic dance floors of the 1990s when optimism was still in the air. Limerick's track was so explosive at the time blowing up clubs all over the world that early acid house DJ Danny Rampling said of in 1992 ‘that it will still sound good in 20 years’, and he is not wrong. 

Hear it for yourself with the classic club mix. 

It’s a bit more melodic than the squelchy beats and bleeps of the early Goa raves but its connection with them is clear. 

From spaced-out raver to ‘centrist dad’. It’s a journey many have probably made. 

References and reading.

“India’s Right-Wing Raves: Hindutva, Zionism and Psychedelic Trance’.

‘Psychedelic White: Goa Trance and the Viscosity of Race’ 

Carl Lee is retired but was a lecturer at The University of Sheffield and Sheffield Hallam University, taught A level Geography for 20 years at Sheffield College, is the author of five books about geography and has a PhD in economic geography. He has been nuts about music since buying his first single in 1973: 10cc’s 'Rubber Bullets' if you were wondering.

Saturday, 7 February 2026

Feb 7: Guest blogger Carl Lee #4 - Greensleeves Record Sleeve

The latest of Carl Lee's guest blog posts - this one on an encounter with the Notting Hill Carnival.

'Greensleeves' Record Sleeve

Hanging above the toilet in my house is a framed copy of Errol Shorter’s ‘Wild inna eighty one style’. 

It is a little known 12-inch dub plate but it comes in the iconic record sleeve of Greensleeves Records which in itself is a brief history of reggae music from its roots in Jamaica to its burgeoning popularity in London where the Greensleeves label was launched in 1977.


Image copyright Carl Lee.

If you have never seen the generic cover used by Greensleeves for its 12-inch singles it is a cartoon drawn by the Mancunian illustrator Tony McDermott who is also responsible for the covers of many of the albums that have the Greensleeves imprint. A couple of books cover this body of work by McDermott but for me it is 12-inch sleeve, which has remained the same across nearly five decades, that is the true icon.

The cartoon depicts the historical journey of reggae music from its Jamaican roots to it adoption as an integral part of British music history. It commences in the top left-hand corner with Mento musicians playing on a beach watched over by a white colonial police office with a rural shack off in the distance. Mento was the sound of post-war Jamaica and heavily influenced by what American radio stations were playing. It was a rural sound played with simple instrumentation such as banjos, hand drums and guitars. However that US influence was soon enabling connections to ska and rocksteady with the introduction of electric guitars, electric pianos and amplification and this cover represents that phase with three smartly and identically attired singers who I imagine to be 60s rocksteady trio The Heptones, but on this I could be wrong. 

I probably need to buy a copy of the recently republished “Greensleeves: The First 100 Covers” to bottom that.

The musical journey then tumbles down the right side of the sleeve in panoply of the stars in the unfolding history of reggae. Just how many stoned folk have stared at it trying to work out who is who? 

Identifying Bob Marley is easy but then Doctor Alimantado, Big Youth, Desmond Dekker, I Roy and of course Lee Perry. 

There are many more and they are joined by two stern looking London policemen taking notes, oh and is that Joe Strummer at the back? 

The journey ends under London’s famous Westway flyover with Arno Goldfinger’s modernist masterwork Trellick Tower looming above it and a pop-up sound-system in the street in homage to Notting Hill Carnival. This is very much not the Notting Hill of the film 'Notting Hill'. 

This is a neighbourhood with staggering gradients of inequality. You can move from early Victorian millionaire luxury to social housing estates simply by crossing the road. Meanwhile Gardens could be the imagined location of the last scene on the record cover. It is a small municipal park squeezed up against the Grand Union Canal and the curvy, modernist social housing block of Holmefield House, with the Westway fly-over and Paddington railway line a block away. 

It was here amongst the swings and skate board ramps that on the Sunday night of 1983's Notting Hill Carnival that local reggae band Aswad performed. 

It was recorded for posterity and is the only live album I own where I was actually in attendance. It became the album "Live and Direct".

It was late afternoon, sunny and warm, a packed audience, and smoky from the grills of jerk-chicken and spliffs. It was on the surface very laid back but Aswad’s performance is full of righteous anger and power driven by a powerful horn section. 

It hadn't been that long since 1976 when a riot had marred the last day of Notting Hill Carnival and a watching (participating?) Joe Strummer penned The Clash’s ‘White Riot’. 

In 1983, no such tensions arose and a great reggae album was recorded. 

Special request to the Harlesden posse, Paddington posse, Brixton posse, Ladbroke Grove posse. 

Music as a geographical marker in the dense city.

Of course this Greensleeves Records sleeve is an artefact of a time as well as place. 

For me it is imbued with memories such as watching Aswad on that late summer day when I was a mere 20 years old. Today it has been moved onto another level with Brixton Brewery’s Original Rockers lager carrying this iconic record cover as its can label. This was a limited edition beer to celebrate the launch of Greensleeves: "The First 100 Covers Book" by Alexander Newman.

Who’d have thought back in the day?

When I turn around to wash my hands facing me over the sink is another 12 inch dub plate, Pablo Gad’s 1981 Poor Man versus Rich Man dub in its Dub Vendor original sleeve – a photo of their old Clapham Junction shop and in that is another story for maybe another time.

Carl Lee is retired but was a lecturer at The University of Sheffield and Sheffield Hallam University, taught A level Geography for 20 years at Sheffield College, is the author of five books about geography and has a PhD in economic geography. He has been nuts about music since buying his first single in 1973: 10cc’s 'Rubber Bullets' if you were wondering.

Greensleeves Records.