WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BRIXTON’S REGGAE REVOLUTION?

My impression of Brixton in those post-uprising days was of a tense, defiant community inoculating itself with the catechism of roots reggae. Basslines bled out of nearly every window.

KWESI JOHNSON IN BRIXTON.

Three decades and more later I sat with Linton Kwesi Johnson in the Black and White cafe in Atlantic Road, not far from the epicentre of the events of ’81.

The great poet and Jamaican-born chronicler of black British life since the ‘70s was not so keen to be interviewed and wanted to get his shopping done.

He rarely talks to the media nowadays but he’s sharply articulate on the parallels between 1981 and 2011 when riots again broke out around Britain.

‘Both [events] took place in a time of austerity when working-class people were being made to pay for the greed which resulted in the capitalist crisis,’ he said.

‘Social injustice was a matter of policy as a way of getting out of that economic crisis. Police harassment and oppression of black youth were the biggest issues within our communities.’

LKJ also notes that in the late ’80s a lot of black people moved out of Brixton and like Harlem ‘the community underwent a process of gentrification, the demographics changed. House prices are ridiculous’.

Although I was back in Brixton for just three weeks I sensed the processes of rapid change everywhere—few Caribbean stores left in the covered market, a surfeit of restaurants catering to visiting yuppies, new luxury apartment blocks going up opposite social housing.

Only rarely a burst of reggae from a street stall or car stereo.

Known for rebellion and resilience, the South London suburb of Brixton—the symbolic frontline of Black Britain—faces a rapidly gentrifying present

I searched for music and found long-time reggae artists holding on—just. But also I discovered blues, jazz, Latin and hip hop musicians working hard at their forms.

Residents’ opinions vary, but behind the increasingly glossy surface a sense of the old, resilient Brixton remains. My one sound system dance was co-sponsored by the black community in association with newer Spanish-speaking migrants.

The vibe felt like it did thirty years ago and tourists were nowhere to be seen.

As Linton Kwesi Johnson says: ‘Not only have we changed Britain… in changing Britain we have changed ourselves.’

‘But a lot of things haven’t changed at all. I find it really depressing my grandson has lost count of the number of times he’s been stopped and searched by the police,’ he said.

‘I guess for a lot of people who live outside of the area [Brixton] has this kind of exotic charm about it… or whatever.’

With that the poet adjusted his hat, bid me farewell and headed off to the market for fresh fruit and veggies.