Carlton "Santa" Davis: I was born in Kingston on 21 November 1953. I started playing drums at the age of 11. My involvement came through the CYO [Catholic Youth Organization], which kept me out of trouble. The CYO was at a Catholic Church, on Waltham Park Rd. Coming home from school, I would hear the drum corps playing, and then one day I decided to go and see what's going on. I went inside, and it so happened they were having a recruiting drive that day, so I said, "Well, I'll just go sign up." They put me in the junior band. A few months later I was transferred over to the senior band. I guess I had a natural aptitude. First I was a flag bearer, then a rifle bearer, then the director started to teach me to play snare drums. That one I caught on to real quickly. From that day forward we started to do drill maneuvers . There were drum corps competitions, and we won almost every one. The only thing I didn't play was the wind instrument: I played snare, tenor, big old bass drums, cymbals, so I was an all-arounder in the drum department from 11 to 16. The first band I played with was the Graduates. Kofi Kali had that band, he played alto sax. That's how I met Ken Boothe, Joe Higgs, Delroy Wilson and Alton Ellis. We'd rehearse in his electronics and record shop on the corner of Maxfield Ave and Spanish Town Road. People like Ken would come by and we would back him in live shows. Kofi was a cultured type of person. Glen Dacosta and Vin Gordon would play in the same band with me, a bit older than me. [Drummer]Horsemouth [Wallace] used to play with them, on and off. After a while I was the only drummer in the group. I was there about a year. At the end of '69 I started playing with the Soul Syndicate under their original name the Rhythm Raiders. That's when they changed their name to Soul Syndicate. "Fully" Fullwood on bass, Tony Chin on rhythm Guitar, Cleon Douglas as singer and guitarist, and Scotty, our keyboardist, who has since passed away. At that time Keith Sterling was with Boris Gardner. When Cleon migrated to U.S., Earl "Chinna" Smith auditioned and became the guitarist. He was actually a singer before, but never with a group.

After that, we had Enroy "Tenor" Grant on sax, and a trumpet player called Dizzy, who has passed away too (not to be confused with "Dizzy" Johnny Moore). We used to do a lot of stage work in clubs on weekends, sometimes mid-week. The first time I ever did a recording session was with Bunny Lee. But he played a trick on us, 'cause we didn't know the business. He came to Fully's father, Lester Fullwood, (we used to call him "B") who was managing the band, and hired us to go into the studio, and the first group we ever recorded with was the Twinkle Brothers. From there we became known. Instead of a session fee, Bunny Lee came and hired the whole band, and that wasn't the way it was supposed to work. Each musician should be paid per song, but we didn't know that. We didn't really care because we were kids and it was a thrill, excitement. It was paying our dues! No regrets.
Delroy Wilson sang on one of our rhythms, singing "I Can't Explain," and it became a hit. Bunny Lee wasn't a musician, but he had vision. They came from an era of Vere Johns, variety shows, talent shows. So they had the experience of certain things, but they could hum something to you and you'd make sense out of it. They would come with an idea and you'd, as a musician, interpret it into music.

I worked for Lee Perry. These guys were musical scientists as far as ideas. He'd let us know exactly what he'd want by dancing. He'd dance, and he'd say, "Like, I want a certain kind of music so I could go over to my girl," making space in music so it have an interpretive value, "I can go over here and talk to my girl, and then come back over here." Like "John Crow Skank," that has an open feel. Music here, silence there. Creating the whole musical feel. I played the original "Sun Is Shining." On the day of that session, Perry said, "I don't want no high hat on this song, only kick and snare," and he took my high hat away.

These guys had ideas; engineers creating. Have to give them credit, they knew exactly what they wanted, and knew how to get it out of you. Watch the woman with the basket on her head, and watch the rhythm, make music like people walk or skank. Play a bass line to a certain movement, drop the drum licks to a certain movement. They were writing music mystically, and the musician just interpret that.

People like Niney the Observer, he hums things to you and he was like a comedian in the studio, bruk up bottle in the studio, some crazy stuff, but out of the craziness was a lot of creativity going on. Duke Reid was a next character. He had a studio and liquor store, so he was a business man. He had all these guns, but it didn't intimidate us. He would be doing sessions, and if for some reason it seemed like there was no energy, he'd fire the gun and say, 'Not my day today,' and stop the session. That was his way. He was the funniest cat. If he wanted me to play, he would say, "I want this kind of beat." He had these big-ass rings on his fingers, and he would give you all these out of time riddims, and he'd hit your leg and it would be up to you to figure out what this guy want. A happy type riddim. You'd play something on the drum and he would say, "Yes, that's it!" That was his way of saying whether he wanted the music happy or sad or whatever. All these people had their way, how they would interpret things to you. All the producers had their little thing, dance, hum, knock something, or just draw up any kind of vibe or idea from where ever. They would see something on a wall, or look out a window, or remember something that happen yesterday."'Remember that incident you hear pon the radio, the car crash' or whatever." That Mr. Brown coffin thing. That was the biggest joke ever play on Jamaica. Wailers and Lee Perry made that song. I think we did "Sun Is Shining" and "Mr. Brown" possibly on the same day, and the Wailers used the idea for "Mr. Brown" for "Duppy Conqueror" later. That type of rhythm was called the "John Crow Skank". It was one of the biggest hoaxes in Jamaica. One minute Mr. Brown is Downtown , then them say they just see Mr. Brown up a Halfway Tree, then the next thing you know, Crossroads. People was running like crazy trying to find this thing.

During this time we were known by many names: the Aggrovators for Bunny Lee; the Observers for Niney; and as the Soul Syndicate. We would work, some of us, for Rupie-Edwards as his All-Stars. Randy's All-Stars; Prince Tony; Phil Pratt; Joe Gibbs; Gregory Isaacs; Jo-Jo Hoo-Kim at Channel One. From this Golden Age we played with Gregory Issacs on 'Love Is Overdue,' 'All I Have Is Love." Dennis Brown 'Westbound Train.' Ken Boothe, 'Silver Words.' Slim Smith. Niney, we did the 'Blood and Fire.' Junior Byles' 'Fade Away' was actually written and produced by Chinna Smith. 'Stalag 17' for Winston Riley. And the original Taxi rhythm, we did the original one for Blacka Morwell on a Little Roy song.

I'm telling you, sometimes you go in the studio and you record so many songs, you just can't remember them all. Big Youth, we did a bunch of stuff for him including "S90 Skank." Lots of work for Junjo Lawes; Barrington Levy, when he was very young. Some early stuff for Yellowman, for Junjo. Linval Thompson. I did the first song that Johnny Clarke made, "None Shall Escape the Judgment," which was written by Earl Zero. Tony Tuff and Sugar Minott, the first time those guys were in the studio was with us. You wouldn't always know what the name of the song was while you were recording it. Names of songs change sometimes too, and you don't really know what they name it after you left the studio. I played on Jacob Miller's "Tenement yard."

With Bob Marley I played on "Africa Unite," "Coming in from the Cold," and "Chant Down Babylon." For Bunny Wailer I worked on the "Liberation" album. With Peter Tosh I did the "Mama Africa," "Live at the Greek Theater," and "No Nuclear War" albums. I worked with Yabby You. Freddie McGregor who was the lead singer of the Soul Syndicate in the late '70s. With U. Roy, Joe Higgs, Big Youth, and Cornell Campbell.

In 1980, we made a documentary film with an American named Jerry Stein called "Word Sound Power." At the time, it was a good thing, 'cause it exposed us to a lot of people, even in Japan. It helped. It was something that was good and it was bad, it made us what we are today. And then we did extensive touring with U. Roy in Europe and as the Arc Angels with Big Youth to England. But the first real big tour I did was in 1976 with Jimmy Cliff, when Joe Higgs was with him. I think the first live reggae was 1976 in Central Park with Jimmy Cliff, for Warner Brothers, when I was with him.

I also toured with Ini Kamoze in the early '80s. I even backed Burning Spear on one show, I think in Bermuda. But I recorded "Marcus Garvey" and "Tradition" with Spear but never got a credit on the album, because at the time Horsemouth was the main drummer for Jack Ruby. That happened often, where I played on something - didn't get a credit, and people thought others did it.

But the biggest exposure came from my recording and touring with Peter Tosh. We did the U.S. and Canada tours in support of Peter's "Wanted Dread and Alive" album. We had a week of rehearsals at the beginning of July, and went on the road for three months with him. They were the biggest audiences I had ever played for, on a constant level.

Peter was a real leader. He gave you the feeling that you could go anywhere with him, having him as the front man, any day. To me it was a privilege to work with a man like that. I've never had any experience like that since. It was so interesting, because he was true to what he was singing and dealing with as far as humanity was concerned. He was truly a voice for the people. And I think that is what made it more interesting for me working with him. What set him apart from everyone else was the honesty and the outspokenness of his whole being. There wasn't anything phony. It wasn't an act. He was really serious about his convictions - about the 'shitstem.' His was the voice for people who couldn't express themselves otherwise. That was a great thing. But he also had a great sense of humor. He wasn't all throwing spears and dropping bombs, he was a regular human being who cracked jokes and "draw card" and be a regular person. It was a lot of fun, and then it was time for serious business. He was always serious about his music, that was the way of expressing how he feel. Rather than taking up a gun, or making bombs, or any kind of destructive thing, his weapon was pen and paper, to draw attention to the shituation. He was one of those kinds of people like Martin Luther King and Malcolm X trying to build awareness of certain types of realities.

I was at Peter's side when he was shot, and I was shot too. The bullet, in fact, is still in me. It was a tragic end to a beautiful life for somebody who meant good for mankind. Such a waste and a tragedy. And a serious loss to all of us, including myself. This man has never done anything evil to anyone, so him never deserve to go out like that. And as him say, "sorry for maga dog, him turn round bite you." So is like him did kind of see these things coming, just the way of mankind. I miss his presence a lot, cuz no one really take up that mantle to do that kind of work. Everything kind of change. Since Peter left us it's like people have lost the vision, their sense of self. It's more like people are scared, people don't want to travel that road, they feel like if they're outspoken they'll suffer the same fate. It's too political or too harsh. For me, right now, Peter's inspiration is still within me, because I learn a lot from working with him. I learned how to be a strong human being and to be true to what I do. And be more spiritual. Peter was a source of strength and a building block to all of that vibration.

To this day, every time I play, I play music with him in mind. I think it helps me to play with that power. I remember when we used to play with him, and I remember that power when I play today. Each time I play, I remember him, spiritually he is still with me.

In 1988, I got a call from Fully that he had a tour to do with Mikey Dread. But then, there was a failure of communication between Mikey and the people who were arranging the thing, and Fully said to me that Mikey wasn't going to do the tour, but we could do the tour and carry anyone we wanted as vocalist. At the time, I said, well Peter had just died and I knew that Andrew could sing his songs, and we could do a tribute to his dad. So I mentioned that to Fully and that's the way it all started. The first show Andrew Tosh did was in Burbank at the Starlight Amphitheater, where Peter and Bob had made their last public appearance together. A lot of people didn't know that Peter had a son that big. And people said he sounded just like his dad. And he was even the image of his father. He even rode a unicycle like Peter did. All those shows were sold out, for months! I toured with him from '88 until '95. Since then, a few shows here and there, Brazil and other places. But I haven't worked with him on a regular basis since then.

In the '90s I started doing extensive work, touring and recording, with the Wailing Souls. Also did some tours with Michael Rose in North America. At the end of '95, I started working with Big Mountain for a couple of years, in Japan and other places. Then I hooked up with the comedian Eddie Griffin, doing some music things. I even did an episode of the "Malcolm and Eddie" tv show. I played many of the Bob Marley Days in Los Angeles throughout the decade. And recently, I played on recordings and toured a bit with Caribbean Pulse. Don Was, the producer, used me on an album of reggae songs with Willie Nelson, redoing some of his old songs Jamaican-style, riding the rhythms like he was born there! I even got to jam with Issac Hayes one time.

I toured for a month with the Wailing Souls, who were opening for Bob Dylan and Santana. Carlos often called me on stage to jam, and told me that he was a big fan. It was a pleasure having that opportunity, as Carlos was one of my idols. He reminded me of Peter and Bob, who liked to have people around him, a genuine person.

Lately, I've been working with Ziggy Marley for the past couple of years, and working on a new album of my own compositions. I live in Los Angeles, and find myself constantly in the studio doing a wide range of recording projects.

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Interview by Roger Steffens, founding editor of The Beat magazine, and co-author with Lee Jaffe of "One Love: Life with Bob Marley and the Wailers" (Norton 2003); with Bruce Talamon, "Bob Marley: Spirit Dancer" (Norton 2003); and with Leroy Jodie Pierson, "Bob Marley and the Wailers: The Definitive Discography" (Kingston Publishers, 2004). He lectures internationally on the lives of Bob Marley and Peter Tosh, and curates Roger Steffens' Reggae Archives in Los Angeles. He can be reached at >rasrojah@aol.com<.