![]() ![]() There’s been a disquieting change in Marley’s demeanor. It’s 1980, and the Wailers – now playing Madison Square Garden – have taken over an entire floor of the hotel, muting the lights in the hall to perpetual twilight, filling their stuffy, carpeted precinct with the unaccustomed smells of ital cooking and, of course, ganja.ġ00 Greatest Artists of All Time: Bob Marley In the second picture, Marley is sitting on the couch in a posh midtown hotel suite, surrounded by protectively huddling bredren and sistren, looking pale, drawn, severe. No matter how much I squint and stare, his feet seem to be floating a few inches above the boards. It’s as if the thick clouds of smoke and the rapt concentration of the mostly Jamaican audience are somehow buoying him up he’s hovering. Marley is a blur of motion, bobbing, weaving, dreadlocks flying, never seeming to quite touch the stage. ![]() ![]() The music unwinds from the first note like an impossibly sinuous Slinky, the groove steady, one song shading into the next without pause or change of key. In the first, the Wailers are playing one of their mid-70s New York City concerts to a theater thick with ganja and dreads. Memory pictures coming in: two snapshots of Bob Marley. ![]()
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January 2023
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