MAXI PRIEST reflecting on the issues surrounding identity.(Pictures by Michelle Springer.)

by MICHELLE SPRINGER

The talk circulating the globe about Maxi Priest being the new lead singer of UB40 is just that. Talk.

Throwing back his phalanx of ink-black natties, he laughed generously, flashing his playful signature smile.

"I ain't in no UB40 band. Man, people say that and you know what, it suits me they're saying it because it keeps people chatting," the artiste born Max Elliot jokingly told SUNDAY SUN in an exclusive interview.

Priest, who has been dubbed by music critics, fans and the media since the 1980s as the "King of Lovers' Rock" was in Barbados last weekend to perform at a benefit for former deejay John Barry.

He unveiled much about his life, his childhood and his career as he sat on a bench overlooking a lush golf course.

He flung a waist-length lock over his shoulder, explaining, "We had a conference in England the other day to clarify that. I am not a member of UB40. My band and I were on tour earlier this year with them and their lead singer Ali Cambell decided he wanted to do his own thing.

"The UB40 band members were discussing the fact that I could do some tours with them and hold everything together until Ali's brother Duncan was ready to take over the role."

With Priest's more than 20 years' experience on the touring circuit, he saw it as an opportunity to reach another audience who otherwise might not have seen him perform.

That it was a group he enjoyed and followed over the years added to the appeal. But it was the social significance of the band – its representation of the British blue-collar working classes across all colour and ethnic lines and the subculture it created among them – that ultimately led Priest to accept their proposal to sing lead with them.

Nonetheless, he has not given up his own group. He continues to tour with them, alternating wherever necessary with UB40 to fulfil international gigs.

Priest spoke at length about growing up in the South-east London district of Lewisham, one of the areas with high concentrations of West Indians and ethnic minorities.

"I grew up in a big-time West Indian community and a big-time West Indian home with all my eight brothers and sisters," he beamed.

Priest, the seventh of nine children, remembered with mixed emotion growing up as an immigrant and in a minority in Britain.

On the one hand there was the fun and joy of being a member of a large family, who along with other West Indians in the community were responsible for shaping his consciousness as a black man and an artiste.

On the other, being first-generation black British, he encountered what so many born in the 1950s and 1960s did as products of both worlds: a battle with identity and belonging.

"A lot of people don't understand what it was like; you're growing up in London in a [society] with people telling you you don't belong and stuff like that. At school and on the streets you were always fighting for your place. You're always searching for an identity and feeling as though you didn't belong," he said with an expression that shadowed his smile.

Like so many of the West Indians who went to Britain in the 1940s and 1950s, his parents came to England with the intention of working and going back home to Jamaica.

"You were always brought up to know that home was Jamaica," he recalled.

Nonetheless, being socialised in the wider community and having close relations with British nationals invited questions on his identity and the harsh reality of racism.

"I went through all the riots and stuff like that against the National Front," he added.

" We wanted freedom of speech, of belonging – and identity, man," he said, passionately switching from cockney to his maternal Jamaican tongue.

After he started recording he renounced all claims to geographical ties. Defining himself as either British or Jamaican was no longer adequate for him. He found solace in constructing himself through his music where he had no such negotiations. The one constant that stayed with him was his music.

"My freedom was music. As a child, if I felt sad, I could sing. If I was happy, I could sing. If it was just a walk in the park, I could sing, and that made me feel good," he offered.

"We are human beings. We belong to the world. At that point it wasn't whether we belonged to Jamaica or England. We are all children of God."

Priest turned to reggae.

"Out of the music there was a message. One of freedom for black and oppressed people – regardless of race – which was what we were fighting for and what we were searching for. And so it was a natural progression to follow through with reggae.

"Reggae music was pumping out that kind of vibe, [which said] yes, this is us. I am also part of the freedom fighters," Priest said.