Don Letts talks being black & british, bob marley’s influence & Diy culture [interview]

Don Letts is globally renowned as the DJ that turned an entire generation of punks onto reggae in the late 70s. However, Don’s legacy, artistic pursuits and cultural impact encompass so much more than that.

Don, grew up as a first generation Black and British child after his parents moved to the UK in the 1950s from Jamaica. Growing up in the sixties and seventies, he faced many systemic obstacles such as racism, classism and white supremacy. He struggled to find his place in a world that constantly wanted to tear him down, and made no space for him. Through his determination, unwavering vision and passion for music, his heritage and the arts, he built a long-standing, impactful career that has spanned more than four decades.

Don Letts has achieved monumental milestones in his career, such as winning a Grammy Award for his documentary Westway to the World in 2003, he filmed iconic documentaries for the likes of Gil Scot-Heron, Sun Ra and The Clash, while he also recorded the music video for the track ‘Pass The Dutchie’ by Musical Youth, which was the first ever Black music video allowed on MTV at the time. Don was also the inspiration behind Bob Marley’s track ‘Punky Reggae Party’ released in 1977. Today, Don is a highly acclaimed musician, DJ, Radio show host, filmmaker, documentarian, author, style icon and more.

In an exclusive interview with Don Letts, we chat to him about his connection with Bob Marley, cultural activism, the importance of empowering oneself, how his upbringing and heritage shaped his prolific career and more!

Hey Don Letts! Welcome to Afrotrax, we’re extremely honoured to have you 🙂

Music and art has always been a form of activism for the Black community all over the globe. Do you see your work as a form of activism?

I believe in music and art as a tool for personal and social change. I grew up on music that was about changing your mind, not just changing your sneakers. So whatever I do, I’d like to think that it’s somehow pushing things forward, although it might not seem to be overtly political. So, if you have a platform you need to justify the space you occupy and bring something to the table to help push things forward. Don’t get me wrong it’s okay to party sometimes, and escape sometimes but you know, you can’t spend your life on the dancefloor. Eventually, the music will stop and you have to go out and face reality. So, it’s in that spirit that I do my work, trying to push things forward and elevate the people, man.

At what point in your career did you realise this is what you wanted your work to push and represent?

I think growing up in the UK as a Black British person, which sounds easy to say now, but when I was growing up in the sixties and seventies, being Black and British was a very confusing concept. In a way, I was forced into being the person I am today because of the way I was treated by society. I had to become politicised, I had to educate myself to let them know that I had something to bring to the table that was probably equal to what they brought, but probably preceded what they brought. 

Growing up, what did your close friends and family think about your involvement in music and arts?

Listen, my parents are part of what they call the Wind Rush generation. They came over in the 50s to rebuild the country after the second world war. From their perspective, Black people weren’t meant to be artists, you had to get a trade. So they weren’t too happy when I quit school. At the age of 14 I got to see a band called The Who, it was the first live act I ever saw. Basically, it blew my mind and it made me realise that there was another way out there. Even though I didn’t want to be in a band or be a singer, I knew I wanted to express myself in a way that wasn’t being offered to me at school. So I see this band, and literally the next day I quit school, and I head to a place called the King’s Road Chelsea, which was probably the hippest place you could go to. Needless to say, my parents weren’t too happy. Not long after that, I see Bob Marley in 1975, started growing my dreadlocks and my parents kicked me out of the house.

How did you navigate this period of your life, did you have a plan?

Nope, I’m 69 years old and I still don’t have a plan. I think I just wanted to find out what other opportunities there were other opportunities there were besides driving a bus. Those doors were opened specifically through music and art. For working class people the music and clothes were the only means of expression, it was the only things we had access to.

So, let’s chat about your relationship with punk music?

Yeah, I owe those crazy white people big time. While I was turning them onto basslines, they were turning me onto DIY culture. Which I actually think is punk rock’s greatest gift. Oh yeah, it wasn’t just about fast guitars and mohawks. It was about empowerment, freedom, individuality. Obviously the tabloids tried to put it into this ridiculous box of guitars and mohawks. For some of the people it was just about that, but for most of us we understood it was about an attitude and spirit that could inform everything you do. I reinvented myself as Don Letts the Filmmaker with punk inspiration. 

I remember seeing Jamaica’s most famous film The Harder They Come in 1971. I remember daydreaming “aw man, I’d love to be a filmmaker, I wish I could express myself in some sort of visual medium”. But, in the early 70’s as a young black man this was a ridiculous idea. The film business was an old white boys network. Fast forward 5 years, and punk rock comes along with the idea of do it yourself, and Don Letts becomes a filmmaker. So, I owe the punk rock guys big time.

Tell us about your relationship with Bob Marley?

I think if you look on the internet it’s been blown out of proportion. I saw him in 1975, when he played the legendary Lyceum gig. And after that gig I was so hyped up, that I followed his coach back to his hotel, and basically hustled my way in with his musicians. I found myself in his living room watching him talk to the UK Rasta elders that had come to pay their respects. Then, it gets to about 3am in the morning and he’s out-talked and out-smoked everybody, and he looks around the room and he sees me with a little bag of weed and I get summoned to the table. He proceeds to finish my weed, it was good weed so we made a connection. 

Fast forward to 1977, Bob comes back to England, and he was effectively in exile. He was staying just off the King’s Road Chelsea, where I was running a shop, and because of the connection we had before Bob came to find me. I think the only reason our relationship has been blown out of proportion is that the last time I went to see him he said “Don Letts you look like one of them nasty punk rockers”. He was basically reading the tabloid press which painted a negative idea of what the whole movement was about. I said “Bob, you’re wrong, these are my friends, they’re not crazy, we’re like-minded rebels”, and Bob just said “get the hell out of here” and I left with my tail between my legs. But, three months later a better informed Bob Marley was moved to write the song ‘Punky Reggae Party’. It made me like Bob more because it made me realise he was open minded. 

Do you still feel like Bob Marley is one of your main musical influences today?

Absolutely, I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it wasn’t for Bob Marley. I mean, maybe I would’ve gotten there in the end, but it would’ve taken a lot longer. Bob Marley came to me when I needed him, because I was running around the UK as the first British born Black, trying to find where I fit in. So, there I am, late sixties, early seventies looking to America for clues, looking to Jamaica (the land of my parents) for clues as to where I fit in this story, and I have to say it took a long time for Black and British to finally mean something. 

What does being Black and British mean to you today?

It’s certainly changed from what it was back in the sixties and seventies, but the struggle continues. I think we’ve now found ourselves possibly in a new ‘ghetto’ of art and music. Because contrary to popular opinion, people of color weren’t put on this earth to entertain the planet. That’s just a small part of our contribution, given the opportunity we can do it all. So, don’t be fooled people. 

In a previous interview you mentioned that you never wanted to be in the spotlight, do you still feel this way?

It’s not something that I’ve chased, it’s a by-product of my work, not a means in itself. You know what’s funny, in the 21st century it’s really important that people know you exist, so it does play into the hand of brand recognition. 

I don’t have to go to people and explain who I am, they can very quickly work out who Don Letts is and what he brings to the table. That’s because of this spotlight, not because it’s something I’ve chased, but you know it’s a fringe benefit of my work.

Did you ever think you’d be able to make a career out of your passions? 

I didn’t ever think about a career. All I ever did was chase the buzz and I never wanted to be broke, cold or hungry. I made certain choices, pursued them and I can survive doing things I can enjoy. As far as I’m concerned that makes me a millionaire, and I’m not talking about money. I ain’t financially rich, but culturally, I am loaded. 

Do you have any pinch me moments when looking back at your life and career so far?

There’s a couple of things that I’m particularly pleased about. One of them is the ‘Pass the Dutchie’ video, it was actually the very first Black music video on MTV. When MTV started it didn’t show any Black videos as a matter of policy. My first feature film, Dancehall Queen, a movie I made in 1997. I guess getting a Grammy was not bad. My mum would’ve been proud, I’ve got three honorary doctorates and I’ve never been to university. 

So, what’s a typical day like for Don Letts?

There is no typical day for Don Letts. I like to find some time where I can just let my mind wander. I’m not talking about meditating, I’m not talking about emptying my mind, it’s almost the opposite. I like to find an hour a day to do that, but other than that some days are filled with music, film, radio or managing my family. 

How would you like your legacy to be remembered?

Put it this way, being remembered would be a good start. All I care about is the work, so I’ve done my work to be remembered. I’ve only documented things that I believe justify the space they occupy, so I’d like to be remembered through my work.

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