Lyrics & rhyme

Fast-talkin’ dancehall doyen Tippa Irie on The Black Eyed Peas, how not to get tongue-tied and the awesome power of positivity

His star-studded mobile reggae disco brought the sounds of Jamaican dancehalls to London’s first Caribbean families; fast-talkin’ MC chatter paving the way for the premium rappers of today (think Busta Rhymes). Reggae toaster Paton Banton is a long-term friend and sparring partner; The Black Eyed Peas credit him for number one hit Hey Mama! Without further ado, The Advisor meets the much-coveted Tippa Irie, assuming front-and-centre stage at Ragamuffin Night 3 here on June 27.

Tippa, this is an honour. Can I say why?

[Laughs] Go on.
When I started reading up on you, the first song I came across was Hello, Darling – which, for me, is one of those sublimely joyous tunes that’s right up there with Bobby McFerrin’s Don’t Worry, Be Happy. It can and must live forever!

I know, I know – and it is! Thirty years later, I’m still living off that tune, man. I didn’t realise it at the time. I was outside a club in South London and I saw a girl walk by. I said: ‘Hello, darlin’!’ And she said: ‘Hello, good lookin’!’ That’s how the idea came about. I was doing a song, It’s Good To Have The Feeling You’re The Best, and while I was recording that I started to mess about, singing ‘Hello, darlin’’ in the break. My producer heard it and said: ‘What’s that? That sounds like something, Tip! Go away and write the lyrics.’ So I did and when it came out, it just blew up! It was a popular thing people used to say and I try to write songs out of that, things that are often said. We used to work at a studio called Mark Angelo’s. Do you remember [British model] Linda Lusardi? Her brother ran that studio. I wrote some of it there and some of it at home. The rest is history, kind of.

Speaking of history, I was born in the East End of London in the 1970s, but got shipped out almost immediately. Tell me about these sound systems in Brixton that I missed. There’s a documentary on YouTube about you where this terribly posh-sounding presenter describes them as ‘giant mobile discos seen during carnival times’, with MCs as ‘non-stop speaking DJs’ who talked in a mixture of Jamaican patois and Cockney rhyming slang.

Oh, yeah! [Laughs] At that time, being of Jamaican parentage… My dad had a sound system. We used to have a corner shop with a basement, and every Friday and Saturday he used to string up his little sound and people used to come down there, dance, play dominos. Have you heard of a shubean? It’s a blues dance; a Jamaican term for ‘house party’. The sound is set up inside the house or a warehouse. You play your music, thieve the electricity from next door or sometimes we used to just take over abandoned houses. We would charge people to come in; have a little bar. There might have been the odd one or two white people that would come, but mainly it was people who were from the Caribbean but now living in England. They’d had kids, so we were the first generation. We were learning from our parents how they were raised in Jamaica. The sounds were like our radio station: the new tunes used to come from Jamaica, or, if you were making new music, the first place you would promote it would be on the sound system.

We would be listening to people like Big Youth, Dillinger, Trinity, obviously Dennis Brown, Gregory Isaac, Bob Marley, Culture, The Abyssinians. All these groups from the Caribbean, then you had the British generation, like Aswad, Steel Pulse, a very good group called Reggae Regular, which was the first band on Greensleeves Records. Growing up I listened to all these people, but U-Roy was the first person I really imitated at the age of about 15, 16. I used to listen to a tune called Wake The Town And Tell The People. After hearing him, I just wanted to be an MC. I used to practice in the basement of my dad’s house.

I was just going ask were there secret practice sessions and, famed for your fast-chat style, do you ever get tongue-tied?       

You do sometimes! But now it’s like autopilot, I guess. I don’t have to think about it now. I just read the situation, whether it’s a festival or, like, last night was kind of a pub vibe with about 400 people. You suss out your audience. There was a lot of people there and I just know how to make them laugh; know how to involve them in what I’m doing. Anyway, back to the sound system: it’s a mobile disco, but on a larger scale. You have your bass box, mid-range and then your tops. Your amps. Your box boys, who are like roadies and come in to set things up. As an artist, you have to go through that process first. I know that feeling! Even if you become successful, you must stay grounded. It’s the key.

Perfect segue. Reggae is really taking hold here in Cambodia. To me, it’s always been one of the more deep-and-meaningful genres. Do you think reggae music can still convey a higher message to struggling populations?  

Yeah! For me, if you listen to my last album, Stick To My Roots, the whole album is saying something positive. It’s about keeping true to where you come from. You’ve got tunes like Truth And Rights, which is talking about negative issues to do with the system. You’ve got tunes like I’m Having One Of Those Days, which is about promoters that want you to perform, but don’t want to pay you. Then there’s Just My Lady, which is talking about a relationship, you know what I mean? For me, in my 30-year career, there are maybe two songs where I’ve been negative.

Only two?! Which and why?
[Chuckles] I don’t really want to talk about them because they were negative! But in the majority of my albums I think I’ve been pretty positive: educational, uplifting, motivating. Sometimes you make music to pay the bills. If I had the budget to do a lot of the songs the way I really want to do them, then… You know, you make a lot of songs and some of them are great; some of them are OK. And then you might have made a couple that are whack, or ‘not very good’. But most of the time, a lot of people like to work with me and when they’re happy with what I’ve done, I leave them to get on with the mixing. I’m not very… um…

You don’t micromanage?
No!
You’ve worked with some epic names: The Black Eyed Peas, on Hey Mama! And the lovely Pato Banton. Oooh, SIR!

[Laughs] Let’s start with Pato. He was an admirer of my music from back in the day on Saxon Sounds. He was on a sound system too. Me and Pato, we ended up having the same manager so we linked up a lot and done a lot of touring together in America. It was mutual admiration: I respected him as an MC from the Midlands. We started to write some songs together and Greensleeves Records liked them so they put them out there. He’s a nice guy; very humble dude.

The Black Eyed Peas: Fergie’s nice, man! I got on with her. She’s a nice girl, man. I was in LA, doing a little West Coast tour and I was playing at this venue called the Belly Up in San Diego. It’s like a famous concert venue there; everybody plays at the Belly Up if they’re in San Diego. I was playing there and got this phone call from a girl called Shelley Roots. She runs a company called Roots Media. She said: ‘Tip, the Peas have heard you’re in town and they’ve got a track they might want you to go on.’ I said: ‘OK.’ At the time, they weren’t that famous – famous, like, underground hip hop but it wasn’t really main, mainstream. ‘OK, let’s go have a listen.’

I was staying at this place called La Verne, east of LA on Route 66. I drove down to their studio with a friend, Dave Monaco from the band Better Chemistry. I listened to the track and they wanted me to do it then and there but I said: ‘Let me live with it for a day.’ I took it, fell asleep with the track, just practised and then I came up with the ‘Cutie, cutie; make sure you move your booty.’ [Laughs] I went back the next day, did that and they loved it.

I just do stuff and then I forget about it, but I got a call to say they wanted me to go to Hollywood. I was just hoping it was going to be a single, but Where Is The Love came out and blew up; it was number one. When that came out, I went: ‘OK! Looks like something’s gonna happen for this group.’ Know what I mean? Then the [Hey Mama!] single came out; top ten all over the place, so my bank manager was my friend again. So yeah, that’s how that happened. I was working with this guy called Motivate, he used to be a DJ with Will I Am and had a studio in the same building the Peas had their studio.

I have a little crush on Will I Am.
[Laughs uproariously] I shall leave you to deal with that! I was in the studio one day with Motivate and Will I Am walked by. He said to Motivate: ‘Who the fuck is THAT dude?’

Those were his exact words?
Yeah, those were his words. Then he said: ‘One day I’m going to have something for you, dude.’ I’m like: ‘OK. No problem, man. Just give me a shout.’ And he did! So I landed on my feet, you know? [Laughs]

Massive understatement. So what’s been the most awesome thing about being Tippa Irie so far?
I think it was playing at Reggae Sunsplash in Jamaica, because, um, my dad had never seen me play before because he left to go back to Jamaica when I was 16. When I was 21, Hello Darling was out and me and Pato got invited to play at Reggae Sunsplash in Jamaica. It was nice for me to go back, because when he left me I was just leaving school, so he didn’t really know I was a successful entertainer. He knew I could MC, of course, because I was messing about, but he’d never seen me on the stage. It was special for him to come and see his son perform at Reggae Sunsplash; it was a big thing in Jamaica. My first time there, so that was a blessing.

I’m one of the first reggae artists ever to go to China. It’s funny; there’s a saying: ‘Do good and good will follow you.’ I was playing at The Jam in Brixton. I went to see Dennis Alcapone, one of my teachers, and Winston Francis. Have you heard of Prince Fatty? I went to a Prince Fatty gig and basically he dragged me up on stage. ‘Tip! Pleeaaase do one song for us.’ So I did. I did it! I think I did one of those ‘All the time, the lyrics I rhyme’ speed-rapping songs. Anyway, I brought the house down and when I was leaving I saw this little Oriental guy running towards me. [Adopts Chinese accent] ‘Mister Tippa! You amazing! I want bring you to China!’ So I says: ‘OK.’ He emailed me and we did eight shows in Shanghai, Hong Kong, six other cities. They were very receptive. In some of the places, it was like: ‘Woah! Let me see what this is all about,’ you know? So I did a performance for an hour then we would organise an hour of reggae music through history: we’d start with ska, obviously Bob Marley, then bring them up to the present day. The audience, I think they were receptive because they were pretty mixed: everyone was following what the expats were doing.

To reggae? Dancing badly, knowing expats. Our hips simply don’t work the same way yours do. 

[Laughs] No, no.
So what’s the secret to your radiant positivity?
You experience things in life and, as you get older, you learn to not stress about things so much. Just try to do unto others what you would do to yourself. I’ve got four kids as well and they’re like big people. I want to see them have kids and grow up and do special things, too. I try to live good, do good with people and when I say I’m gonna do something I try my best to do it.

If you ever decide to run for office, you’ve got The Advisor’s vote. Can I ask one final thing before we sign off?

Yes, darlin’!

Could I possibly trouble you for a little tiny speed-rap, please?
[Laughs and erupts in perfect flow] AllthetimethelyricsIrhyme…

WHO: Brixton dancehall legend Tippa Irie, with Dub Addiction and Wat A Gwaan
WHAT: Raggamuffin Night 3
WHERE: Slur Bar, #29 Street 172
WHEN: 9pm June 27
WHY: It’s Tippa Bloody Irie!