For about four years I’ve been listening to a dancehall reggae artist named Capleton. The first album I heard by this remarkable performer was entitled “More Fire”, and I was instantly a fan. This man has the most incredible voice in music today, which is all the more remarkable in that he sounds that good even on interview footage where he bursts into song. At first, Capleton’s single drawback, for me, was his thick dialect, which was very difficult for my western-USA ear to understand. After repeated listening, though, I got the idea. Luckily, the liner notes on VP records tend to be extensive, bringing out Capleton’s songwriting brilliance as well.

            To make a long story short, Capleton was one of the few artists on my “must see live” hit list: I HAD to know whether he sounded as good in the flesh as he did on his albums. On June 26, VP Records gave me my chance to see Capleton, live, at the Sunshine Theater in Albuquerque.

            Now is where I start my little travelogue, as the performance itself was preceded with pathetic antics a-go-go. According to the record company, I had been put on the guest list plus one for the concert. At a little after 8 p.m., myself and my companion arrived at the venue, prepared to go in, as this was after the show was supposed to begin. As things happened, the bands had to go through extensive sound checks and us poor timely folks had to wait in line until they were through. No big deal… except that the sound check took two hours.

            When we finally made it inside, it turned out that there was some problem with the guest list, and I basically got the idea from the promoter that he thought I was fishy. He told me that he did not know who I was, which was apparently sufficient evidence for him. I asked him if the tour manager was around, but she had apparently stepped out for a bit.

           Well, a bit turned out to be an hour, and it unfolded that the tour manager had not given the guest list to the promoter. The intermittent hour had consisted of two visits to the promoter  — who turned out to be the man running the Sunshine —  both occasions being at the same time absurd and insulting; this petty businessman at once claiming that he was “barely breaking even” on a packed theater and yet, miraculously, he was so well-established that he couldn’t be bothered with us press types. Regardless, it was good that my companion and I were to be getting in for free… except that the promoter demanded that my companion pay as soon as the tour manager turned her back. Oh well, we went in anyway… and it was already intermission.

            Now on to the good part of the experience. After intermission, we were treated to some surprise artists, including a young warbler named Moses I, a conscious dancehall youth, and a venerable Bongo Man. Then came Cocoa Tea, legendary old-school dancehall gent.

            It seemed to me that the crowd had blown its energy early on an admittedly excellent performance by Cocoa Tea, and I was fearful that the bulk of the crowd had come to see him, and that they might not give Capleton the reception he deserved. I have rarely been that far off the mark in my life.

            Capleton arrived onstage, his presence dazzling the crowd, immediately launching into “Jah Jah City”, a wailing entreaty to humanity. But then he stopped, his back to the crowd, and the band stopped playing. Turning around, a tremendous smile on his face, he then did a call-and-response bit with the crowd. He would sing “Jah Jah City, Jah Jah Town…” and the crowd murmered back with the rest of the lyrics.

            This continued for the remainder of the show, Capleton cavorting and prancing like a mad Pan, all the while singing and chanting with a studio-quality voice. He toyed with the crowd expertly, teasing them and chiding them, at the same time appearing so charismatic and kind that the effect was electrifying. He turned his songs into call-and-response games to be played, his very serious spiritual and political lyrics turned into something for everybody to take part in. It seemed almost like a “how to be Capleton” seminar, and we had all decided to be his students.

            At no point did Capleton seem to be concentrating: He was simply there to facilitate the audience’s show. But the second I felt he might not be taking up his share of the worst, he would burst into an amazing vocal piece that, frankly, blew my mind. This man was intense, candid and yet amazingly placid for a man leaping like a gazelle while shouting staccato bursts of vocal machine-gun fire into the microphone. And then… he would stop, waving at his band and shaking his head in disapproval. Turning to the audience with a grin on his mug while the band started the tune all over again, he would ask us to light our lighters while he explained to us what we were to do… all in song.

            Despite the setbacks of this trip, the Capleton concert was the best reggae show I have ever attended, and only solidified my already-massive adoration for this entertainer. There have been few concerts that I have attended where I have seen such a consummate performer as Capleton, and those were concerts by bands or individuals who had been around for a very long time. Capleton’s raw appeal as a performer convinced me that he could just as easily have been a Ukranian folk singer and captivated myself and the rest of the thundering audience that evening. Capleton is a true bard: A missionary troubadour with the charisma of a dear uncle. If I get the chance to see him perform again, I will leap at it… even at the Sunshine theater.