It was a dark and stormy night. Rastafarian tams were soaked through. Even the nattiest dreads hung limp, and pocketed lumps of ganja grew soggier by the moment. Sub-tropic shades of red, green and gold seemed improbable and foreign, replaced by various tints of shabby gray. And still, the cold Irish rain continued to fall.
Which is to say, conditions were less than ideal for a reggae concert. But for Joseph Hill, charismatic front man of legendary reggae group Culture, it might as well have been a sunny mid-summer day in beachside Jamaica.
Puddles of doubt evaporated instantly beneath the ultra-violent rays of Hill’s fiery stage presence. Furnace-caliber warmth emanated from the brightly lit stage. For those who braved the weather to attend Culture’s set at The Village, bone-chilling precipitation faded into distant memory. From sunshine to world peace, anything seemed possible.
Although Culture was formed in 1976, its music retains as much relevance today as it ever has — arguably more. The group’s philosophy transcends happy-go-lucky Rasta stereotypes, committed instead to intense political messages and direct confrontation. Coupled with an emphasis on melody and relentless rhythm, it’s easy to see why the late ‘70s U.K. punk scene embraced Culture’s musical protest.
For the show, the group spooned deep into its 25-year repertoire, drawing up a set list of spiritual and social reminders of why Culture’s name is cemented into the archives of reggae music and culture. Selections from its most recent album, 2003’s World Peace, also made an appearance, and it was clear that Culture is making a stronger showing now than it has in a decade.
A visible thread of intuition strung the backing band together, but Hill himself was the show’s centerpiece. The aging Rasta man exhibited a surplus of youthful energy, wildly eyeing up the crowd and inciting them to make noise. Drenched but oblivious, they were all too happy to respond.