The Larry McDonald Story Part 1
Jamaica, reggae and ska have long been inseparable in the musical lexicon. Those in the know have even longer recognized that the island's rich hand drumming tradition is a cornerstone of these revered musical styles. With that in mind, master percussionist Larry McDonald's pioneering new album, Drumquestra, enters the scene as a particularly important recording.
Drumquestra stands out because it continues a tradition beginning long ago on the African continent, from before the time when Africans were gathered and shipped to Jamaican plantations, where they labored as slaves but also came brandishing ancient rituals. It stands out because it is expansive: it expands on Black Jamaican ritual musical forms that include Burru, junkanoo, revivalist and Nyabinghi drumming, and gathers them up with the latest popular culture. This is where those centuries-old instincts cross paths with hip-hop and DJs, crossing generations and genres.
Remarkably, although McDonald is in his 72nd year, with a career spanning almost fifty of those years, only now has he emerged with his first full-length recording. But what a solo debut Drumquestra is: This may be the first commercially-oriented collection of Jamaican hand drumming-centered music made with the ears of the iPod generation firmly in mind. In fact, only Sly Dunbar's Wicked and Slick reflects a drummer's point of view of popular Jamaican music.
McDonald's relationship with drums started relatively late, at the not-so-tender age of 24. The percussive impulse was borne of tragedy and the sound not of ska but crushing metal - only minutes after exchanging seats with a friend, the car they occupied was wrecked in a violent crash. His companion was dead, but McDonald walked away. He was a changed man, newly dedicated to drums in an emotional quest for catharsis.
As so often happens, a young artist's tragic personal loss paved the way for the world's gain. Driven by his fierce personal mission and raw talent, McDonald began to make a name for himself across his island home. After honing his chops by sitting in with multiple acts, Cecil Lloyd asked him to become a member of his popular North Coast band, where McDonald's relationships with conga drummers Noel Seal and Jerome Walters brought his ideas and playing ability to the next level.
It wasn't long before Larry's style -- an adventurous blend of feels from his favorite drums and drummers consolidated into an energizing rhythmic flow - started attracting the attention of musicians and music fans alike. Then the first breakthrough came, in the form of a surprise offer to join Carlos Malcolm's Afro Jamaican Rhythms. Malcom's group was one of Jamaica's best bands at the time, with a sound that relied heavily on indigenous rhythms from around the Caribbean, designed to give people options beyond the ska repertoire that was being heard in every club and radio station from coast to coast.
Just as he gained unchallenged status as the island's premier hand drummer, it became time for a change of scenery. In 1965, McDonald spent a year in Nassau, Bahamas, where he befriended and learned from another leading hand drummer, Big Black. 1966 saw him back in Jamaica with none other than Cecil Lloyd at the famed Playboy club. But 1967 proved to be another traveling year, where a stint with Cedric "King" Bravo & the King Lee Dancers led to opportunity to work with the world renowned Ballet Folkloric de Mexico during the 1968 Olympics. The Summer of Love, 1969, heralded a turn back to Jamaica, where an intensive schedule of studio work and hotel/club dates led to jazz, late-night jams with Count Ossie, Boris Gardner, and everything in between.
Finally, as it has to so many intrepid explorers, the vast shores of America finally beckoned. The American saxophonist Bill Barnwell lived in Jamaica during the mid- 1970s, a residency that allowed him and McDonald to establish a musical association that would lead the percussionist - now a certified star player - to a year in South Carolina in 1973.
Not surprisingly, this first move stateside opened up doors of massive proportions. A hookup with Manu Dibango in 1974 ensured his reputation would spread. Entrenched in the soft hills of North Oakland, he formed his own group Ridd'm in 1978, and nearby in California and in distant New York, legends like Taj Mahal and Gil Scott Heron were laying in wait. Soon they would be introduced to someone that would become essential to their own landmark sounds: an emerging Jamaican percussionist named Larry McDonald.
STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO OF THE LARRY MCDONALD STORY.
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