Iconic filmmaker, musician and raconteur Don Letts has directed over 300 music videos for a diverse range of artists from The Clash to Bob Marley. Now, the camera is turned on himself in a documentary exploring his career and his relationship with the UK’s punk scene in the seventies. We hear all about the upcoming film, Rebel Dread, ahead of its run at Broadway Cinema...
As a lifelong filmmaker, how has it been suddenly having the camera on yourself? Has it been a powerful experience to look back at your life through video and images?
It’s been bloody horrible! Like you just said, I’m used to doing projects where people are talking about work that I’ve done. I don’t like all the spotlight on me. I think I’ve spent my whole life trying to avoid me, hence me doing so many different things where I don’t have to deal with myself. And between my book, There and Black Again, which came out last year, and the film, the whole thing became quite overwhelming.
They weren’t supposed to be so close together. But because of COVID, the book was put on the backburner, and the film is almost two years old now. In fact, the world has changed so much since it was made, between COVID, the world apparently waking up, Black Lives Matter, and even me - I don’t even look like that guy on the screen anymore. It’s kind of weird.
One aspect of the documentary I found particularly interesting was a sense of the exploration of heritage, for example meeting your grandparents when you were filming in Jamaica. Would you say finding a sense of self is a key theme of the documentary?
Well, that might have been the director’s intention, but like I say, I’ve spent my whole life running from myself. I might not be a well-adjusted human being, but that’s the way I operate. And I guess I turn what would be perceived as negatives into positives by being creative. So, it works for me.
As a product of the Windrush generation, the documentary seems to give a sense, from your own words and other people’s words, of a generation that was fighting for an equal footing in a society that they were born into. Now, generations later, movements like Black Lives Matter continue to show a struggle along racial lines in this country. Do you have any observations on how it has changed to be black and British in the UK?
I could say disappointed, hence the title of my book, There and Black Again. Because my whole life I’ve tried to be just Don Letts, but it’s like society won’t let you. I mean, I was in a cab a few months back and the cab driver said, “Why are you always so angry?” I said, “Dude, I don’t wake up in the morning angry at white people. It’s a reaction to how we’re treated.” While everyone’s arguing about black and white, I’ve been trying to enjoy life’s colour.
I don’t think counterculture’s died, it just doesn’t look as good
I know amongst people my age, that have come after the hay day of many countercultures, there are assumptions that they were quite tribal and opposing. Your documentary offered an alternative picture of mutual interests and support. For example, a lot of people you associated with in the punk scene would come back to Forest Hill after gigs at the Roxy. Do you think there is anything to be said for these connections often going under acknowledged in music history?
Absolutely. I believe that music can act as a tool for social and personal change. I grew up listening to music that helped you be all you could be. It was about changing your mind, not your sneakers. Being as old as rock and roll - I was born in 1956 - when I was growing up music was the only form of alternative information and inspiration. So, it was absolutely vital to my life.
Fast-forward to the 21st century, I think young people have a lot of different ways to express themselves and maybe music isn’t the be all or end all that it used to be. And it doesn’t help when you see tracks from my day being used to sell you stuff in bloody adverts. It kills me every time because, call me naïve, but I cared. I believe in this stuff, music made me what I am today.
We have to be careful with generalisation, but a lot of it today has become a soundtrack for passive consumerism. And the music that I grew up with helped me engage with my fellow man and the planet. There were party tunes, too, don’t get me wrong! But you can’t spend your life on the dancefloor. Eventually the music’s going to stop, and you have to go out and face reality. And guess what? There are some great tunes for that too.
Check out my radio show! Sunday night, 10pm until midnight on BBC 6 Music. I highly recommend it, it’s where I can just be myself.
Nearing the beginning, you mention boroughs full of counterculture in the seventies. Are there any places today in the UK that still carry this flame?
Well, you’re asking an old man a question that you should really be asking someone young. But I don’t think counterculture’s died, it just doesn’t look as good. In the 21st century the economic climate is such that young people are probably better off getting their heads together, rather than their hairdos. But I think facilitators like technology, there are communities that are finding like-minded people and getting their voice out there. The internet isn’t just people showing you pictures of their lovely kids and what they had for dinner. Some people are making the most of it.
Was the collaboration of punk and reggae immediately clear to you? Or did it occur over many years?~
It wasn’t immediately clear. When I first got turned on to the whole punk attitude and spirit, becoming friendly with punk rockers made me understand that it has a lineage, a heritage and a tradition. Because that’s what it is; it’s not about mohawks and safety pins. And, in fact, it didn’t begin and end in the late seventies. It’s really important people understand that because in the 21st century people look back at punk rock - but if you understand what it is, you don’t see it as something to look back on, it is something to look forward to.
All you need is a good idea and the motivation. And what happened in the mid to late seventies, the English came along. People like Malcolm McLaren (promoter and manager of the New York Dolls and the Sex Pistols) tuned into this attitude and this spirit and gave it a look and a style. They almost colonised this time on a tradition. So people think that the British created it. That’s bullshit. It isn’t even about just music. This is a spirit and an attitude that can form whatever you do. And maybe people really need to see the art in all aspects of life. I mean the stage is full up. We could do with some punk-rock politicians and nurses and doctors. They can’t all be on telly.
Independent voices are tremendously important, especially with the current social and political climate
You mention towards the end of the film that "Music is the elixir of life. It is a great way to communicate to people through culture." In the current world of social media and streaming, what is the future for counterculture movements like those your film so vibrantly portrays?
Well, the future for the ones my film portrays is over. They’re in the past. And I think the whole idea of subcultures has morphed into something else, going back to what I just said about communities finding themselves through the internet. But, being 66 years old, I’m not too up on all that stuff. I just know it exists. I’m an optimist. There’s that spirit and that force that I was talking about, that’s like Star Wars – you can’t stop it, but you might have to look in new places. I will say that. To move forward in the future, it’s all about new values. If you want what the man is offering, you’re kind of screwed, your hands are tied. But the minute you say, "You know what? Keep the red carpet, I’m not interested," the world becomes a really exciting place.
It's to do with aspiration. When I got into this, in the sixties, seventies and eighties, there was an anti-establishment thing. But nowadays a lot of people get into music and the business to be part of the establishment. And if that’s your goal, how radical can you be?
What did you go into this project hoping to achieve? What is the importance of independent films?
Independent voices are tremendously important, especially with the current social and political climate. I didn’t want to get anything out of the film, I didn’t want to make it! In fact, when they came and proposed the idea to me, I thought they were bloody mad. I said, "I might be an interesting dinner guest, but do I really justify that space that I’m about to occupy?" Because that’s how I operate. I think that in the modern day you have to justify the space you occupy: space is valuable in the 21st century. You can pollute it with bad ideas, just like you can pollute it with chemicals.
So, I hope that the film doesn’t go against my brief of justifying the space it occupies. But I can’t tell you that, only you and others can. I’m just trying to pass on the stuff that made me who I am. Nothing comes out of a void. I’m just trying to pass on that energy and keep this thing moving. Moving forward, painfully slowly. But that’s the direction I’d like to travel in.
You are coming to Nottingham for the screening of your documentary and an in-person Q&A on Monday 7th March. Have you been to Nottingham before?
Yes! I DJ up there quite a bit. Nottingham rocks!
See Don Letts’ new documentary Rebel Dread, and Don in person at the Q&A afterwards, at Broadway Cinema on Monday 7 March. You can buy tickets on their website
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