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Following the recent UK premiere of the Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry documentary Vision Of Paradise at the East End Film Festival, the eccentric dub genius has being doing the media rounds once again. Not only has he been hosting radio shows on BBC 6 Music, but he also suffered the indignity of being interviewed by Krishnan Guru-Murthy on Channel 4.

The latter video reminded me of interviewing Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry for The Stool Pigeon three years ago. As the Pigeon’s website seems to have (at least temporarily) followed the much-missed music paper into the grave, I thought I’d re-post it here. Behold: the oddest interview I’ve ever conducted…

Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry is not a fan of reggae.

That might seem quite odd for a man who played a vital role in the careers of countless reggae legends from Bob Marley to Max Romeo, but it’s something he wants to make clear. In fact, in today’s interview, it’s about the only thing he makes clear.

I say ‘interview’ — it’s more like receiving a sermon from a passionate yet playful moon-preacher, with a predilection for suddenly breaking into rhyme. Originally, we were supposed to meet after his appearance at the Jamaica 50 festival, a celebration of Jamaican independence at London’s O2 Arena that he was supposed to open alongside Junior Murvin and Mad Professor, but he missed the gig. According to his manager, a grounded flight was to blame. However, asking Perry about his absence elicits a somewhat different response…

“God didn’t want me to make a change. My God is air — the breath of life. And my God also speaks water. Sea water, rain water, every water. And my God also is fire. So, Three God In One — do you want me to come? Three God In One did not want me to come to London for the Jamaican reggae independence… ting. Why? Because they want me to put on reggae, promote reggae. I call it black magic reggae.”

A more interesting excuse than simple flight cancellation, admittedly, but Perry’s not talking about the difference between reggae and the dub sound he helped originate, or the ska and rocksteady he made his name with. No, he’s talking about…something else.

“I refer to myself as a soul child, to make soul music my church. I have a living church and my God is a living God. And the evil eye call me in the reggae too much, and want me to promote the reggae. You should not promote the reggae, you should be promoting soul. Reggae soul rebel. Reggae soul devil. Reggae vampire, reggae bloodsucker, reggae pirate, reggae thief, reggae cook. Reggae Judas”.

He unleashes the first of many infectious cackles, before continuing:

“So they wouldn’t let me come, because I was not sure I should be promoting reggae, I should be promoting soul. Soul music. Soul dub. In a soul pub or in a soul club. And we’ll do soul rub. Rubbing soul, loving soul. AHEM! [belly laughs] Loving soul. Hugging soul, kissing soul. [Yelling] Hello, my holy soul! Hello, my righteous soul brother! Hello, my godly soul sister! Instead of reggae. Reggae is a curse.”

When asked why he considers reggae to be a curse, Perry replies as if the answer is obvious.

“Every single man who say he is a reggae star dead. Whereas you are living. If reggae isn’t a curse, why Bob Marley dead? Why Peter Tosh dead? Why all the Jamaican artists dead? Why are most of the Jamaican producers dead? If reggae was a blessing, they would not be dead. They would be happy, jumping around the place, singing, “Oh Lord thank you for saving my soul when reggae wanted my soul”, and they would dance out of here. They would have them a long life, smoke them cigarettes and get crazy and want to kill somebody, from cigarette curse. Or they shoot somebody from reggae gun curse. Or something like that.”

Warming to his theme, Perry then switches into full preacher-mode…

“Blessing is a blessing and curse is a curse. Who God curses he will die. Who will kill, God curse them and they die. Who shoot gun, God curse them and they die. And most say they love God, and want to use God name, love God, and then kill, so God kill them anyway. So you see, was not blessing was a curse. Do not be afraid, I wouldn’t shoot metal…”

“God,” insists Perry when summing up, “wants me to get everybody on the reggae ark to leave Jamaica.”

You wonder how all this would’ve gone down at Jamaica 50… Still, an initial question on why he missed the gig has unintentionally taken up a large chunk of the interview. As entertaining as his response is, it’s also frustrating — there’s no time to ask about Perry’s legendary Black Ark studio (and whether he really did burn it down in anger after someone stole his favourite rubber ball from the mixing desk), his memories of recording two of the finest dub records in history, Super Ape and The Congos’ Heart Of The Congos, or how he comes to collaborate with so many diverse musicians, from the Beastie Boys and George Clinton (probably the only person on earth who’s on the same page as Perry, style-wise), to this year’s record with The Orb. Yet getting Perry to talk about anything other than the evils of reggae is nigh-on impossible.

“The music was invented by God and the money empire use it for making money and not for the music. They didn’t keep to the originals. They throw the reggae into a toilet, a toilet pit. Obstinate. Throw the reggae into a toilet, shit pit and shit on it. God bless it [laughs].

“After I grow up, and had no special thing to do, I was looking for answers and thought maybe I’d try some music. But Coxsone [Dodd, legendary producer with whom Perry had a notoriously tempestuous relationship] didn’t want me to sing, tell me I had no voice to sing, Duke [Reid, late owner of the Trojan sound system] didn’t want me to sing, tell me I have no voice to sing. So I said to them to let me relieve them of production, and start to make my type of music. And all of them love it, they say “OK, it’s alright”. And my music kill them. My music kill Coxsone for liberty. Then my music kill Duke Reid for liberty. My music kill Coxsone and kill Skatalites and kill ska music. Through Duke Reid I kill rocksteady music. And my music is still alive, and they want to call it reggae [chuckles]. And it was my fault maybe, ’cos then I wrote a song for Bob Marley called ‘Punky Reggae Party’, so maybe I am to blame too.”

The “reggae devil” is a figure we can’t escape from, and after a confusing diversion concerning the “shit and piss” of ska, that can leave you with “no bread and butter, in the gutter”, Perry’s anti-reggae sermon comes to a close.

“Why reggae music shop them close? Why reggae not selling again? Why, if people love reggae so much, is it not selling? Well, God said to reggae, “be still” [laughs]. Be still until I kill all the reggae producers. Be still, while I kill all the reggae promoters. And then you know that I am God [howls with laughter]. If anybody call me reggae, God will show them.”

You have been warned.