by ERIN MACLEOD

Intermittently praised and derided by so-called reggae connoisseurs, the U.K.’s UB40 has nonetheless been adored by pop fans for over a quarter century. The age-old Jamaican tradition of covering any song with a half-decent melody was taken worldwide with tracks like “I Can’t Help (Falling in Love)” and of course “Red, Red Wine.”

The group’s name comes from the title of the form one must fill out to get on the dole, so it’s unsurprising that politics have been a big part of what’s kept UB40 going—that, and a deep appreciation of just plain old good music. The Mirror spoke to saxophonist Brian Travers as UB40 makes their way across North America, promoting their 23rd album, Who You Fighting For?

Mirror: UB40 has embraced different kinds of Jamaican music, from roots to dancehall. Do you see a divide between these genres?

Brian Travers: It’s all part of West Indian musical expression. It’s just a natural extension for it. It’s kind of like rock ’n’ roll. You still call rock n’ roll rock n’ roll, even if it’s nothing like Bill Haley and Little Richard used to make. In Jamaica, kids are like kids anywhere—they’ll move on to the newest version. There’re computers and drum machines and samplers. It certainly means you don’t have to put a band together, which is a great shame.

M: People can have home studios, so now there’s a larger number of people who are making music.

BT: Exactly. It’s incredible. It’s the punk revolution in reggae, really. Any kid can make music as long as he’s got a good idea. But there is a drawback in it—everybody’s keyboards sound the same, drums sound exactly the same. The only difference is their vocals. A lot of them have been influenced, trying to emulate their heroes. Just like UB40 tried to emulate our heroes, but ours were players. It’s taking some individuality out of the music. But my kids love it, you know? I’m not supposed to dance to it now. I’m 47. If I go out, I look like your uncle dancing at a wedding. That’s wrong. It should be illegal.

M: Does the trend towards electronic music in Jamaica worry you at all, or do you think that instrumentalists will always be there?

BT: Well, like Sly and Robbie. They’re like the Beethoven and Chopin. It doesn’t worry me because I don’t make dancehall music. Naturally, age excludes you from some things in life. But here’s the thing—people are using horn samples. There’re records out with bits of my playing on them, which I didn’t play. I’m too old to worry about it. I’m more worried about lasting the two hours on stage.

Keep up the fight

M: But if you think of what UB40 was doing in the beginning, and your politics, the most recent album contains pretty forward political commentary.

BT: Okay, now here’s the truth. We’re really bad at writing love songs. They’re the hardest songs to write. Try and write one that doesn’t sound like somebody else’s. There must be some love songs out there that touch you—I mean, admit it, you don’t always listen to hardcore reggae and dancehall.

M: Of course.

BT: When a love song touches you, it’s wonderful. But political songs, you get your ire out to the world. That’s not quite so difficult. We cover great love longs. Sometimes you can also write them and get great hits from them, but it’s a bit naff, isn’t it? It sounds like you’ve heard it all before. We’ve always written political songs—even the ones that look like love songs are political songs. We haven’t changed that much, the line-up of the band hasn’t changed. We’re just fatter, older, wiser versions of ourselves. And if ever there was a time to write political material, it is now. That’s what happened with us for Who You Fighting For?

M: People have written that you guys are the most multicultural reggae band ever. Right now, a lot of critics in North America are talking about how Matisyahu is appropriating Jamaican culture.

BT: People always find some way of being negative. This has absolutely nothing to do with music. It’s people directing their racial prejudices through somebody else. It’s like an inverted racism in a way. It really is offensive. Why shouldn’t this Jewish man celebrate Jamaican culture if he wishes? I think it is refreshing and new. He’s celebrating West Indian culture, which is an offshoot of African culture. And that’s all we’re doing too.

With Elan at Metropolis on Monday, April 10, 8 p.m., $35, all ages

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